I went to Abby's Parents' Night at school yesterday and had a chance to fill her teacher in on the pathology report and potential repercussions for my daughter. I saw friends, got lots of hugs. It was good that I went, but at the same time, it was utterly exhausting. I sat in the sunlight outside of her classroom for a little while and it was intensely painful to be sitting there *in* the sunshine while cognizant that *my* sunshine was miles away, lying in a hospital bed, coping with aggressive brain cancer and recovering from neurosurgery. To call it unfair is such a gross and grievous understatement that there's almost no point in calling it anything at all.
I chattered at Adam's dad almost endlessly as we drove back to Oakland last night. I was so tired and emotionally drained that it was more like drunk-speak than anything else and I have almost no idea what I said. I stayed in Logan's room overnight and he was up almost constantly. He was crying and saying nonsensical things until he finally threw up at 12:30. Thereafter he was up about every 30 minutes. At one point he claimed that he'd pooped in his diaper and needed a change, but it was empty when his nurse checked. He's not been drinking enough so he was placed back on IV fluids overnight. We were initially told we would likely be released today, but now it's not certain: The doctors want him to have a bowel movement since it's now been 9 or 10 days *and* figure out the nausea/vomiting issue first. We just really want to take him home and try to have a few 'normal' days before his life - all of our lives - are turned completely inside out and upside down.
I worry right now that I'll never be happy again. Like I'll never feel sunlight without also feeling pain. It's so hard to be hopeful in the face of something like this. It's every parent's nightmare to hear 'your child has cancer', but that nightmare is so much worse when 'and it's extremely aggressive' is tacked on. There really are no words, but I'm sure I'll come up with some anyway.