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Sand Castle on Windy Beach Offers Shelter From Waves of Chaos

Posted on: Tuesday, 21 June 2005, 12:00 CDT

The Pacific Coast tsunami warning frightened away most of the tourists, and the chilly breeze blew the roller skaters off the sidewalk.

It was a good day to head for higher ground, but our little beach girl Amelia was undaunted. She wanted to splash in the ocean and dig in the sand, and that was good enough for us.

Thanks to our 9-year-old's insistence, we had a small patch of Venice Beach nearly to ourselves.

There were joggers and surfers, a smattering of sunbathers and a flock of panhandling gulls, but it wasn't nearly the sea of humanity normally seen this time of the year. Amelia was relieved to have a few hours of freedom before we returned to chemotherapy after the recent relapse of her cancer.

Following brain surgery in October at Barrow Neurological Institute in Phoenix and seven months of treatment, by early April she appeared cured of her mixed-cell germinoma. We returned to Southern Nevada to resume our lives. Amelia had missed much of third grade, but couldn't wait to return to school.

Twenty-four hours after we came home, it was as if nothing traumatic had ever happened to her. She was amazing. She hasn't lost a step. In the first few days, she managed to appear in a school variety show and play second base for the neighborhood baseball team. We looked forward to an uncomplicated summer.

It didn't last.

A scheduled follow-up MRI revealed a new tumor, this one in her spine. A second emergency surgery was ordered, and the tumor was successfully removed.

The rapid relapse meant the first chemotherapy hadn't been strong enough to stop the cancer. We faced a much harder road the second time, one that included high-dose chemotherapy, a stem cell transplant and more radiation.

Tricia, my wife, was staggered. I was angry. As usual, Amelia took the bad news better than her parents. We would trade places with her if we could, but that's not the way life works. All we can do is keep fighting.

After several chaotic days and difficult decisions, we're at Children's Hospital Los Angeles.

As we scrambled to prepare for the trip, I realized we hadn't even fully unpacked from the previous journey. I felt as bewildered as Willy Loman.

Amelia made sure we didn't forget our bathing suits.

When we arrived at the beach, she yanked off her sandals and ran laughing toward the tide.

Her hair is beginning to curl again and covers her surgical scar. That first operation seems like 10 years ago now, but it's been only eight months.

On that afternoon in Venice, Amelia forgot about everything but the beach.

Each family has its favorite seaside activity. For some, it's lotions and books. Others like to nest beneath umbrellas and sip cool drinks. Some love volleyball, others fly kites. Many are the body surfing and boogie board types.

The Smiths dabble in several media, but our favorites are jumping waves and building sand castles.

Since she was in diapers, Amelia has accompanied me into the shallow surf to laugh at the little breakers and run like scaredy cats from the big ones. Those might be our best father-daughter moments.

The castle building is a team effort. Mom, an expert cake decorator, does the sculpting. Amelia makes battlements and spectacular mountains. I mostly haul water and scoop sand.

The chaos of our trip was such that we were poorly prepared for construction on our day at the beach, but Amelia improvised. Paper cups sufficed for sand scoops, and she marched down near the water line and began creating a handsome fortress decorated with smooth stones and seashells.

Her mom and dad didn't feel much like celebrating on such a windy, forbidding afternoon, but she was living in the moment. And at that moment, Amelia was happy and a million miles from the hospital, the chemotherapy, and more pain than most can imagine.

Oh, how I wanted to freeze the afternoon, to stop the day like a snapshot we could live in. But that's not possible, and before long it was time to go.

We needed a good night's sleep before resuming the fight of our lives.

I made sure to drive away before the rising tide erased our castle in the sand.

John L. Smith's column appears Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. E-mail him at Smith@reviewjournal.com or call 383-0295.

Source: Las Vegas Review - Journal

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