Brouwer had a very special birthday, evidenced by his first words the following morning, “I had a great day yesterday, can we do it again?” There were many highlights to Brouwer’s birthday and many folks to thank for helping us to make that day special. The identity of most of those generous people are known, with the notable exception of the one who caused a gift we received in the mail on Brouwer’s birthday. As I’ve noted in past posts, we bookend our weekly chemotherapy treatments with another much sweeter sort of therapy – Andy’s Frozen Custard.
There certainly seems to be healing properties to Andy’s chocolate custard (we order a “jumbo” cone which the three of us split) which we enjoy Tuesday nights on our way to the Ronald McDonald House and on Wednesday afternoons on the way home from chemotherapy at Lurie’s Children’s Hospital.
I do however, in addition to the custard, have a secondary motive for visiting Andy’s. The Andy’s locations we visit (Westchester and Oak Lawn, see previous post for a photo of the Oak Lawn location) have a large 3D cone on display outside of the building. Without fail, when Brouwer sees the big cone he asks, “And Daddy, you can put me on your shoulders and lift me up to the big cone so I can lick it?” Something about that question makes a dad feel good.
So yes, we love Andy’s, perhaps particularly so as our discovery of Andy’s delicious custard intersected almost exactly with the discovery of Brouwer’s tumor and, as evidenced by previous posts, we certainly needed (and still need) something happy in the face of that great darkness.
So you can imagine our delight when, on Brouwer’s birthday we received the following note in the mail:
Yes, you read that correctly – Andy HIMSELF, along with his mom Carol, sent Brouwer a card on his birthday! Thank you Andy and Carol for helping to make Brouwer’s third birthday special. An even bigger thanks to the whomever reached out to Andy’s on our behalf.
More posts to follow in an attempt to thank those who helped to make Brouwer’s birthday special . . .
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