Another New Phase

I had blog on the brain when I was driving Abby home from school this afternoon. I had so many things I wanted to share, so many sentences pre-constructed in mind. But naturally, I didn't get the chance to update until now, and even more naturally, a lot of my thoughts have already dissipated, scattered like leaves in the wind. Instead of sitting here and trying to catch them as they skitter-skatter by, I'll just write from my heart for a few minutes.

Tomorrow at roughly 7:15 AM, Logan will begin his six-week course of radiation. As I reflected to Adam earlier, it's really make or break time. If the radiation does what we hope and pray it will do, we'll be moving on to the consolidation cycle in a few months, and prayerfully, on the road to a cure. I can't let myself think in the other direction; My heart is already so mangled and broken that I can't bear the idea.

As I asked before, please pray that the radiation will be extremely successful. Just as God obliterated the once-ugly primary mass in his brain, pray that He will do the same to the spots of evil in his spine: Grasp them, crush them into nothingness and then blow away the residuals in the wind. I pray for that every day. I pray for mercy, for grace, for healing. Because if I don't, if I let my mind wander too far, my heart cracks anew and it's much too challenging to get up when the sun rises.

Today brought with it an unwanted new development in the form of some facial paralysis. Yes, because my poor little sunshine hasn't suffered enough, the muscles in the left side of his face are lagging; his smile is crooked and he's unable to completely close his eye without holding it shut. I went into a silent, desperate panic when I first noticed the symptoms; after all, the inwardly turned eye was our initial indicator that something was amiss in the first place, so my heart absolutely sank when I saw a change in his sweet face. Adam called Philippa to report our observation and she in turn called Dr. T before phoning back to say that there'd been nothing at all on his MRI to suggest that it would be a tumor-related issue. She suggested that instead it was likely the result of some post-op swelling, and instructed us to double his dose of decadron, the steroid he's been taking to keep his spinal tumors at bay after radiation starts. Of course, if he still looks the same or worse in the morning, Adam will call back again and see if a clinic visit is in order. Please pray that whatever is causing the paralysis will just go away already; we have enough to deal with without this kind of item added to the list.

Otherwise, he's been very normal of late. He came with me to pick Abby up from school today, and enjoyed running around the school yard (real, actual running, too). He laughed with his siblings over silly jokes. He ate solid meals and wanted candy for dessert after dinner. He was upset when he went to bed tonight, afraid of yet another trip to the hospital; after all, the last time he got up early in the morning to go to the hospital he had surgery and then spent several days in the PICU. So his fears are more than justified, but still they pain me. And I cry out in agony all over again: Why, Lord? Why? So I ask you to pray for him to feel peace entering his new routine tomorrow morning. And again, please pray against horrible side effects, and for healing via this method of 'seek and destroy' treatment.

To answer the oft-asked question 'how am I?' I'll say not great. Not even really good, to be truthful. The needle's on empty and I'm in desperate need of reassurances, of signs. There haven't been many -- any, really -- since we got the less-than-good news last Friday, and my spiritual, emotional mouth is parched and in need of something to quench its thrist. We went to Arby's at lunchtime today -- Logan's pick, of course -- and as we sat eating, Another Old Lang Syne started playing on the radio and I nearly lost it. Even if you think you don't know it, you probably do; it's a Dan Fogelberg tune from a number of years ago that relays a vignette from the life of a man who misses the past. I so acutely miss the simpler days of my life, when everything seemed so complicated but in reality, it was all quite simple, neat, compact, predictable, not frightening. To be able to go back and live those days again, fully cognizant of how blessed I was, even in my awkward, unpopular teenaged-ness, would be such an incredible thing. But I know I can't. I can merely sit in an Arby's and cry when I hear a certain song. It's surreal. My entire life is... surreal.

To close, I just wanted to share that we will indeed be going to Disneyland this weekend. Adam's parents took care of the whole thing for us and will be coming along, so a tremendous thank you to them for their support. And a tremendous thank you to all of you for your support and prayers as we continue forward on this path. We're blessed to have you on Logan's team.