Up

It's not that I want to be awake right now. Maybe it's the coffee I decided I just had to have at 5 PM, or maybe it's the fluid that's drained from my head and settled into my chest. Maybe it's the light from our backyard neighbor's front porch glaring into my window, piercing what would otherwise be still, quiet, restful darkness. Maybe it's the knowledge that in some ways, all I want to do is cry right now but I know I can't because doing so would make the head congestion so much worse. I guess I can't put my finger on a singular reason because there are many. So, late this Sunday night, I'm just up.

I'm not as unsettled by the notion of being alone with my thoughts as I once was. I can sit in silence and appreciate the peace inherent in the experience. I don't know if that's because my days are so hectic that part of me treasures the quiet times more than I ever thought I would, or because the past eight months have inexorably changed who I am. I guess it doesn't matter. Like I'm just up, it just is.

Today was a challenging one. It was a tough one for Logan, who is clearly engaged in a battle with not only his headcold, but his medications. I've found myself breathing I hate Decadron many, many times over the past months, and my dislike of the steroid continued today as he raged and ranted at everyone, everything. He cried at Target when there were no new Pixar die-cast Cars available. He cried again when Adam took him to the section where books are housed and there weren't any new Cars books to be had. He ranted about stopping to have lunch on the way home and raged when, after he told Adam he wanted lemonade, he wasn't given milk. He raged even harder when we refused to dump the lemonade and buy milk instead. It's painful for me to look back on the sweet, happy go lucky, easy child he was, and to realize what he's become thanks to the drugs and the evil, evil disease. He's almost like an animal at times, thrashing and angry. And it breaks my heart into a million pieces because that crazed beast is nothing like my sweet-tempered, generous, loving son.

Of course, at this point, my heart has been broken so many times that the sensation is different. Now heartbreak feels more like numbness, like hopelessness. I watch him suffer through the side effects of his treatment and think to myself, I can't imagine him ever being my Logan ever again. It's like he's gone. I believe that he could be himself again; granted a wiser, older, changed version of himself, but still Logan. My Logan. We just need God to intercede. To touch him.

I ache for that touch so fervently that the very thought of it makes my eyes well over with tears. So please, keep asking for it. Health, healing, faith and hope.

A good night to you. **** I'm back, a few hours later, with an upgraded request especially for our serious prayer warriors. I feel as if I'm under attack right now. This illness I'm battling is increasingly uncomfortable and increasingly frustrating. I call out to Jesus and acknowledge that He is still upon His throne despite our issues. In the past hours, I've felt another painful lump develop, this one in my throat, and I know from experience that it will become very, very painful before going away. A similar sort of condition plagued me two years ago, and persisted for six months, yet no one was ever able to diagnose it and I was tested for every condition and disease possible. With important days to come in the near future, please pray that evil will get behind me, in the name of Jesus, and that I'll be made well. It's clear to me that the other side doesn't want me well, clear-minded and actively praying for my little love, so I'm asking for your help to fend it off. Thank you for taking up armor on my --our-- behalf.