When you have been battling an illness so long that hospital visits have been routine since childhood, it becomes a lot simpler to identify the good days when they come.
On a not-too-hot Monday afternoon, 38-year-old mother Amanda “Mandi” Furness had a good day.
She looked on as her 10-year-old son, Hudson, played a game of baseball with his friends on the field of Blue Wahoos stadium as her father, Herb, secured the pitching mound. Her wheelchair was pulled up to the fence in the dugout, her family laughing and cheering beside her. With tears welled underneath her sunglasses, she was acutely aware and grateful for every second.
Furness spent many days and nights in the hospital throughout her childhood, but it wasn’t until 2009 that doctors diagnosed her illness as lupus. She received a multiple sclerosis diagnosis in 2020.
Her mobility is now limited and her vision comes and goes. But she still decks herself out in pink, from her bright, painted toenails up to a chunky, pastel necklace. With each new round of treatment, she has been taken in and cared for by her sister,
Christin Keeney, and her sister’s husband, Thomas, who is more like a brother than a brother-in-law. Her mom and dad have continued to be her support system since she was a little girl. Her mother still only leaves the hospital to shower, a routine dating back to the days before Furness ever received a diagnosis.
“(Dad) is my hero, my mother is my best friend,” she said. “I struck the lottery.”
When she decided she had had enough of hospital admissions two months ago, Furness was told by doctors it was time to prepare to say goodbye to her family.
It was a task she felt prepared for, even writing letters to her son to be delivered at life milestones she may not be around to witness. When Furness was given a wish by the Covenant Care Foundation, she decided to do something not for herself, but for her son, and wished for him and his friends to be able to play baseball at Blue Wahoos Stadium.
For people surprised by her decision to spend the once in a lifetime wish on a child’s baseball game, she simply replied, “That’s just because you’ve never seen my son play baseball.” Aaron West, vice president of the Covenant Care Foundation, said the nonprofit health care organization has granted 2,600 wishes for seriously or terminally ill people like Furness since they launched the My Wish program in 2018.
With the help of community donors and partners, they have helped veterans into planes for their final flight, sent patients out on fishing expeditions and have even organized baptisms and weddings.
“We add life to days when days are limited in life,” West said. With her son Hudson’s help, lately Furness has been feeling a renewed zest for life, even training to walk across the Pensacola Bay Bridge. Though she is not ready yet, each day she gets a little stronger.
With each step she practices at home, Hudson will chime in and say, “That’s one step closer to walking that bridge,” she said.
Despite her looming diagnosis she continues to make progress “The doctors cannot explain it, but I’m getting better,” Furness said. “Science only goes so far. Then comes God.”
She watched with each fielded ball or run that Hudson scored as all his fears disappeared for a moment and he could focus on having fun. “That is a really cool wish for a mama, because she could have wished for just about anything,”
Angela Bottesini, senior director for My Wish said. “She wanted to create an environment as if they were one of the real-deal players.”
Furness’ father, Herb Westphal, thought back on the days when he would watch his daughter play softball in Germany as he coached.
“She was a tough little girl,” he recalled. Now he warms up with his grandson out on the baseball diamond, who has been following in his mother’s footsteps for as long as he can remember. Watching the two worlds collide hit home. “My daughter has been sick for a very long time,” he said. “For some reason, she’s here now. … It means the world.”
West said each wish averages out to have an impact on 13 people when it is granted. Hudson’s baseball team looked on as he was presented with a baseball autographed from every Blue Wahoos player, and every eye turned as the boy folded into his mother, one hand gripping the signed baseball and other looped around his mom’s neck.
“Nothing. You know what’s better than this? Nothing,” he told his mom