"Crabby little kid" was first sign
by Maureen Spencer
Vernal Express Writer

Matthew Harris is six years old and has spent over half of his life on chemotherapy for cancer.

Cuddling on his mother's lap he tells you candidly that "Chemo is bad." He also says that flushing his central line makes him dizzy.

Through the eyes of a child, he and his older brother Lane giggle about the effects of chemotherapy that universally tickle boys' funny bones.

Although his parents don't share their sons' humor on these youthful points, they do recall their reaction to the dark humor of adults that caught them off guard when they were exposed to a collection of on-line thoughts from other parents of children with cancer. It was entitled, "You know you are a parent of a child with cancer when..."

The Harrises thought it was NOT funny and actually awful.

Katrina Harris admits honestly that within a month they could see the humor and added a few observations of their own.

They agree, the humor did help.

Matthew Harris was one of those beautiful, perfectly formed babies that warm parents' hearts just to be with him. In 1997 Kirk and Katrina Harris had two wonderful and energetic sons, and their family-centered life was peacefully satisfying.

Although both Katrina and Kirk are not originally from the Uintah Basin, their warm personalities and the welcoming strength of their rural Maeser community had provided a comforting sense of "home."

Added to their happiness with eastern Utah was the fact that Katrina's father, David Grigsby, had moved to Roosevelt with his practice. He was a surgeon.

A crack in the "normal family routine" came when happy, active, healthy 2-year-old Matthew turned into a grumpy, crabby little kid who had become pale and lethargic within a week and a half.

"He didn't want to play and just wanted to watch TV all the time," Katrina recalls. "We went to the Ward Christmas party and he didn't want to see Santa. He just cried."

Early in December they had started noticing "spots" that looked like a rash but were "teeny tiny--like freckles but red."

These spots are signs of minute hemorrhages under the skin, she later learned. An injury during this time could have proved fatal as his blood responded to the disease.

She was counseled that since there was no fever that she should just watch the situation for a few days.

"I felt in my gut that we should make an appointment," the alert mother says, and she took Matthew to her physician father to "take a look."

From Dr. Grigsby's exam they learned that Matthew's spleen was enlarged and with quiet dread in his heart little Matthew's grandfather urged immediate blood work to be drawn.

Now December, the weather had turned bad and when it was decided that the fragile little boy had to be taken by ambulance to Primary Children's hospital immediately, Mother Nature provided a blizzard.

Grandpa Grigsby knew that under these conditions his daughter and the rest of her family could travel as fast and as safely in their 4-wheel drive vehicle as they could in the ambulance with Matthew, and so the anxious caravan made its way to Salt Lake City.

Signing their son into Primary Children's Hospital Kirk saw for the first time the word the would become part of this family's vocabulary--leukemia. Matthew's grandfather had withheld his preliminary diagnosis from the little boy's parents out of concern for their reaction.

As we became comfortable in the Harris living room preparing to talk of Matthew's cancer, Katrina's voice had faltered and she admitted that perhaps she would not be able to bring back these memories without emotion. But her voice had become firm and strong as we spoke.

Recalling this moment at the hospital's check-in desk I see her jaw flex, and it takes a moment for her to find the right words. Carefully she continues, "I thought it was a mistake. The doctors are going to roll their eyes at us, give him a couple of transfusions, some iron pills and everything is going to be OK."

But it was no mistake.

By 1 a.m. the diagnosis returned, "Your son has leukemia." In Matthew's case it was acute lymphocytic leukemia.

Kirk takes a deep breath and says, "That's when there are thousands of instant questions."

Within 24 hours the chemo had begun and a bone marrow aspiration was taken the next morning.

The family agrees that the first nine months to a year were the hardest with the chemotherapy and dealing with the diagnosis. Life with a child requiring constant medical attention became routine. As time went on the chemo levels lowered and some treatments were administered in Vernal.

In the middle of long-term maintenance, March 2002, Matthew took his family on a "Make a Wish" sponsored trip to Disney World in Florida.

Lane, now 8 and a half, and Matthew sit with eyes wide open excitedly explaining the "all you can eat ice cream, whenever you wanted it, swimming whenever you wanted to" and private bungalow the family stayed in while in Florida.

Kirk laughs that the boys enjoyed the Give Kids the World facilities actually better than Disney World, and with unlimited ice cream upon demand 24-hours a day, who could blame them!

Lane takes a long time to think about what it has been like having a brother be so sick. He has had the experience of being taken in by close friends when medical travel for Matthew was necessary and has been closely involved with this beloved little brother's treatments.

Lane is a tall, intelligent child, with handsome features. Finally he says simply, "It was hard."

In February, 2003, after three years and three months on chemotherapy, Matthew Harris and his family had a ceremony around their family toilet. They flushed all of his remaining chemotherapy pills away forever.

It was a milestone day.

Five and a half months later, Katrina noticed some unexplained swelling and Matthew was taken directly to Primary Children's where, within a couple of days, he was diagnosed with the same type of leukemia. Because it was caught early, it had not spread.

This time chemo is more intensive and radiation has been added.

Katrina has been taught to administer chemo through Matthew's portacath at home.

She admits that it was tough to learn to do it for her own child. Lane helps distract Matthew by letting him squeeze his fingers during the injection. There are far fewer pills this time, but there are many more trips to Salt Lake for chemo. The final treatments will come in August of 2005.

Because chemotherapy destroys the immune system, the Harris family doesn't go out in public as they would like. Protecting Matthew from illness is vital.

"We've learned to do a lot of hand-washing!" Kirk smiles. Kirk says he feels that his life is great. "I take life day by day and look for the good things." The family enjoys camping, fishing and their church affiliations.

Katrina has found strength in a Swedish proverb, "Shared joy is double joy. Shared sorrow is half sorrow." She has joined support groups and befriended other parents with the same concerns in their lives. She is deeply involved in the Relay for Life Cancer fund-raising efforts.

Relay for Life will be held in Vernal this year June 4 and 5. Among other important goals, the event raises funds for cancer treatment research such as was used with her son Matthew.


Katrina Harris holds son Matthew as big brother Lane and Kirk join to talk about Matthew's experiences with childhood cancer.