The side effects of the treatment are becoming increasingly obvious as the days pass. His hair, the stubbly prickles that I'd quietly treasured seeing once again after their long absence, has mostly fallen out. His hearing is no longer perfect; he now yells much of the time and repeats 'what? what?' multiple times a day. His numbers are low but okay; his platelets this morning were only 40, so Philippa called and advised that we not give him his oral chemo med until they stabilize, which they should theoretically do now that the full craniospinal radiation is complete.
And I continue to feel sad. Sad over the hair loss, trivial as it is; sad over the hearing loss; sad over the loss of normalcy and the loss of Logan's innocence at such a tender age. Sad over the painful fact that my life is like this, and that although everyone else can simply pop in and out as they please, I'm stuck dealing with this pain indefinitely. Sad that I can't motivate myself to find ways to add more warriors to Logan's team. Sad that I can't seem to feel hopeful about any of this anymore. So yeah. Just sad.
As I sit here typing, our computer is playing a mix of old photos, which also make me sad. They're photos of happier times; photos of Logan looking as he used to look -- healthy and vibrant -- and of me looking as I used to look, probably 10 years younger and lightyears happier. All of this weighs so heavily on me that it's hard to get up, but I do because there isn't an alternative. I get up, I do what I need to do, and I try to pretend that I'm fine when I'm not. I try to pretend that it doesn't break my heart when I see one of Logan's little friends running and playing, healthy and happy. Not because I don't want them to be healthy, but because I don't understand why my son can't be healthy too. I try to pretend that it's fine that I pour my heart into these entries when it seems like they go largely unread. And I really do know: I do know that it's hard to know what to say, that everyone else has a life to attend to. But it's hard to feel sad and left behind and stuck.
I keep waiting for the day when I'll wake up and feel better, because I know it'll come. I know this is a very negative entry, but I promised to be real from the beginning of this journey, and this is simply my reality right now.
Thank you for your prayers. I don't know what to ask you to pray for anymore aside from Logan's healing, but hope that you'll find the words anyway.