Radiation And The Bat Cave Wall

They put on the mask and clip it to the table. 

He lies there so still. 

I touch his leg and pray. 

Red beams emit from the wall as they align the marks. 

The radiation is very specific. 

I swallow as they get everything prepared. 

We leave the room and a door closes; almost like the bat cave wall. 

Thick; protecting us all.

But what about him?

We are able to see him on the monitor.

And I choke back the sobs that threaten to come. 

How can this be?

Why do parents have to watch their kids endure this? 

Why do I have endure this? 

I have already lost a part of me. 

There is a child advocate with us. 

I breathe steady breaths. 

The kids are with us today. 

I need to be strong. 

But really there is nothing strong in me. Because I am weak. I am tired and frankly; I am worn. 

We head over to the infusion center. 

Now that he has had radiation that needed a thick wall to separate us, we're going to have toxic cocktails leeched into his system. 

And I ponder the alternative. 

The child advocate stays with us for awhile. 

She lets us sit in a room and it's nice to be together as a family.

The kids laugh and play with play dough. 

And I think it could be so much worse. 

We could have to be in Boston, like a friend of mine. 

How would we survive? 

I thank God right there for the blessing of having us all together. 

And I march down to get myself a Latte; 

because a friend has made sure we have access to food at the hospital. 

(is coffee considered a food?)

The 2 little girls spend all day with us. 

They are so good. 

I tell them so; repeatedly. 

They want to go home. 

I tell them, sometimes we have to do hard things. 

Right now, it's just about being here for dad. 

Just being present. 

Ana gets it. She looks at me with those big blue eyes and smiles. 

She understands. 

Sometimes it's not about us. 

We head home to a messy house, laundry, dirty dishes and family. 

To a wonderful step daughter and her husband. 

Her husband that puts up with so much and brings such encouragement. 

To the sweetest of babies;

and to extended family who bring food and laughter.

Psalm 119:25

I am laid low in the dust; preserve my life according to your word.

Instead Of Drinking My Coffee In Front Of The Fire, I Will Drink It At The Hospital

I don't want to leave. I want curl up by the fire with my coffee and read. I want to hold that sweet Lilah and listen to her coo. I want to bake or do anything than deal with cancer and living without our son. I pack the bag to have ready. Snacks, water. The bag a dear friends thought about to

meet our needs. It will be a long day.

 Radiation and chemo. . .every Friday.

The kids are coming. They will see the radiation and infusion areas. I prepare for their questions and the impending side effects. The nurses assure us, this will be the week. He is far enough in. 

I have already seen the effects. I see it in his eyes. He's tired. One of our helpers showed up very late for work this morning. Work. The farm. Our only source of income. I step into fear. It blinds me. How will we survive? How will Gary be able to rest if the farm is not cared for. . .But this is not the journey I need to take. I have grace for the moment. Not for the moment that comes after. Just for the here and now. 

Matthew 6:25-27 Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?  Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them.Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?

One day while exploring gifts to give to Lilah, I came across these plush rocking animals. One just happened to be Elijah the Elephant. I am serious. Crystal, Elijah's girl friend, loves elephants. Ok, she is obsessed, in a very healthy way, with elephants. So, when I saw this rocking horse, I thought it was a fitting gift. 

I look at Lilah and I think, she will never know Uncle Elijah. She will never feel  his hugs, or climb on him like a jungle gym. She will never crawl in his lap and hear his deep voice read a story - so animated. But she will know him. Because we will not forget. She will rock on Elijah the Elephant until she is too big. Then she will hear the stories of his life. She will hear about the grace extended to this hurting family over and over; and she will know. 

Isn't it that the way of our Faith. We want to share. We want this hurting world to know the Peace that is offered so freely. The peace that came as a child. The peace that passes all understanding. The gift so overlooked and passed by. 

We will spend the day at the hospital. I will have my coffee and I will read. It just won't be in front of the fire. We will spend time together as a family, making the best of the situation. And the house will not get cleaned and I will still be wrapping presents in the wee morning hours to celebrate Christmas with my dad and brothers family.

 Because that's just the way it goes. 

So, I will step into the grace for the moment. 

And not worry about any other. 

How do you deal with worry and the unknown? 

Would you share with us your experience? 

Sometimes We Just Need A Time Out

I have only been home for about an hour and I can start to feel it. 

The counters are a mess.
There is laundry everywhere.

Food needs to be put away; the dish drainer emptied.
The kids have left their backpacks on the bench and violins and costumes
for the upcoming performance.

 I have been at the hospital all day and coming home to a mess and
uncooperative kids is. . .well, it's just normal.
They are kids.
They've been in school all day and then came home; and they are on vacation and the last thing they are thinking about are the messes.
And that's good. 
They should be thinking about endless days of fun; vacation.
They are not fighting. They are safe.
Elijah's pictures stare back at me and the weight of everything presses down.
I pull off my gloves; I have been washing dishes.
I head into the parlor for a time out.
I need a few moments.
I head right to the only place that sets my heart right.
The only place that will give me peace and turn my wayward thinking around;
to the Christmas Tree. 

No, I head to the Word.
The life giving Word.
But staring at the tree brings me great peace.
I love to sit and stare at things.
My husband used to worry.
Not so much anymore.
He's happy when I am quiet.

Matthew 11:28
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, 
and I will give you rest.

So much of this journey in life involves surrendering. 

It is an act of the will to lay down your burdens and give them over to the 

One who longs to carry them for us; and fill us with His Peace. 

 He may not take them away;

but he has promised to walk with us, every step of the weary way. 

Deutoronomy 31:6-8

Be strong and courageous. 

Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, 

for the Lord your God goes with you;

 he will never leave you nor forsake you.”

We have finished Day #2 of radiation and Day #1 of chemo.
He has had his Christmas cocktail and his Christmas glow.

For the time the nausea is at bay.
So much of this reminds me of my mom.
The reminding to drink water; seeking if there is a need.
It leaves you feeling helpless while they pump in toxic cocktails
that somehow prolong your life.
My farmer heads to the barn with Cedric.
 It is icy out and the cows are the first priority.

They need a safe place. We do not want any owies this evening.
So he shreds a bale in the pack barn to make the area more palatable.
It is imperative that we continue to ship quality milk and keep the cows healthy and safe.
There is much to be done.Yet it is a good distraction.
It is a focus.
And my farmer warms my heart. He is such a trooper.

Gary joins me on the couch when he comes in. I am watching "It's A Wonderful Life."
But I can't stay awake. The length of the day catches up with me. I head into bed.
Day #1 of Chemo is over.
Only 5 more to go.
I close my eyes and thank God for all the blessings of this day.
I just wish it was snowing instead of being icy. 
So I'll dream about Dean Martin and Jimmy Stewart.