Saturday, June 4, 2011
Just hearing the words made me realize how much I was worried that the lesion might still be active - and Tanner's granny and dad (who went back to see him first after surgery) said that he started crying when they told him that the biopsy showed no active cancer... so he too must have also been more worried than I realized... than he let anyone see.
He was hurting quite a bit so he and I both were concerned about how much it was going to hurt the first time he got out of bed, but it went much better than either one of us expected. In fact, he tells me that it helps with the pain when he moves around fairly regularly.
We got to the hospital Thursday morning about 6:45 a.m. and then arrived back home Friday around 4:30 in the evening and I have to admit, I can't remember the last time I felt that tired. There's something about sitting in the hospital that's just exhausting - and those pull out chairs aren't the most comfortable beds in the world (much less the fact that someone was in the room at least every two hours).
I think Tanner and I both slept the sleep of exhaustion last night.
Baylor Dallas was a new environment for Tanner and I both. They haven't had the last year and a half history of treating his Multiple Myeloma and I watched them all when they would ask him what was wrong... The looks that would cross their faces... The questions and concern that appeared in the resident's eyes after he asked if Tanner had been checked to see if he had lesions in the skull and was told that yes he does have some there - and all over his body; that in fact he had innumerable lesions throughout his whole body.
I know there are so many people, so may children, dealing with cancer (and other horrendous diseases) throughout the world - but this is my child and I absolutely abhor that this has happened to him. On the other hand, I've come to admire him so much over the last two years. I've watched him deal with the shock, sickness, and worry and I've watched him push it all aside and go on with his life. I've watched him learn how to laugh, love and live with cancer ever present in his world every single day...
Sitting alone, again, in a hospital room with my son lead to some more soul searching on my part. I need to find the joy in my days... that joy that I've lost... I need to do it now because, really, none of us know what tomorrow's going to bring.
Many of us spend our whole lives running from feeling with the mistaken belief that you cannot bear the pain. But you have already borne the pain. What you have not done is feel all you are beyond the pain.