from the diary of a mom
I had to skip over certain parts. Reading this while in the hospital was a bit surreal ... kind of like on a tv show, when everything goes hazy and the person goes back in time. The description of the ward, and the children ... it's very vivid. I had to blink a few times to get back to the present.
I won't say that Little Warrior is lucky to have been born at the time she was. Lucky would have been never to get cancer in the first place.
But definitely less unlucky.
I was touched by how universal and timeless certain feelings are. She writes about how soon after the initial diagnosis, she thinks that perhaps it would be better for her child to die in surgery than to go through the long process of cancer.
I vaguely remember a similar thought immediately after LW was diagnosed. By the time she got surgery, though, that thought had completely disappeared. I was greedy for each day I could get.
And when she was rediagnosed this spring, just after the two year anniversary of her surgery, even in my pain, I thought, well, at least I got two more years.
Must stop now. I am beginning to sink beneath the waves and this isn't the time nor place. And truly, at this moment, a bit ridiculous, as Little Warrior is munching bacon, watching Hannah Montana, and intending on holding me to the promise of a trip to the playroom. Chemo is at noon, so I need to get moving.
Reading other's journeys in book or blog form is always risky but some how compelling. It lets us know that we are not alone in those thoughts that moms have deep in the dark of night when the best and most couragous are visited by the fear that never disapates. Hopefully this will be the last time that you have to deal with chemo and surgery and radition but as you and I both know. The fear sits on our shoulders and seeks attention on a daily basis.
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