We're in the clinic right now. Counts are good, so we're just waiting for a room. This can take hours. It has already taken hours, and will take more.
Wet eyes today. First, early this morning, when we stopped at the counter downstairs to get a pink-doughnut-with-sprinkles for Little Warrior. All of a sudden, her hair didn't just look thin -- it looked "cancer thin." Wispy and almost bald. And I could tell from the sweet and solicitous looks of the adults around me, they saw it too.
And just a little bit ago ... we were on the elevator. There was a big boy of probably about 10, wailing. As his parents carried him off the elevator, LW said, "Poor boy. Poor boy."
Choke.
A friend of ours, whose daughter is in remission from relapsed Wilms', had her scans yesterday. She gets results today. We're in a different section of the oncology floor. I figure, if I see her (which means she walked back to our section), it's good news. If I don't ... it wasn't.
Whisper up a little prayer, wouldja?
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2 comments:
sure will but I wish I could do more
I've been following your journey with cancer now for many moons and feel a certain kinship with you these days, as we both wait for beloved ones to get better, get well, return to us whole forever, if possible.
Your journey is harder than mine which makes it all the more poignant to know what you face. My love to you all. And Happy Birthday!
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