Because 'Peace' is an Elusive Thing...

Logan's pic line refused to draw this morning, so I had to pack up all three boys and head northward so Philippa could check it out. She tried it herself and it didn't work, so she sent us off to x-ray so the line could be imaged. And that's when my whole morning changed and my peace was, once again, shot down, just as it's been month after month after month (after month).

Logan went into the room to have the x-ray done, but when he emerged, he tearfully told me that he needed to change his pants. A bolt of sheer terror pierced my heart: He'd had an accident. A pee-accident.

For the mom of a normal 5-year old boy, this kind of thing will typically elicit one of two responses: Either a 'darn it, why did you do that?' form of consternation, or an 'okay, well, that's no big deal, let's get you cleaned up' nonchalance. But not for me. For me, I have to wonder why it happened. Did the decrease in decadron allow the spinal inflammation to kick itself up a notch, thus affecting his ability to sense the urge to go? Or was something more sinister behind the accident? There's no way to know, and it's maddening. Heart-rending. Just so unbelievably hard.

I told Philippa, and her first response was that perhaps we'd have to go back up on the steroids to reduce inflammation from the radiation damage. I told her that was fine, if it's what's needed; I also told her that we weren't terribly concerned about the radiation damage. She cut in and responded in like kind, noting that it's treatable, whereas the other possibility... well, there's not a lot more that can be done.

As I drove home, I tried to quell my sense of panic by repeatedly begging Jesus to cloak Logan in His healing power. The entire way home, from Oakland to our driveway, I begged and pleaded for that touch, just as I've done every hour of every day for the past 15 months.

Right now, a few hours removed, I feel uneasy. Not overwhelmed by thick panic as I was earlier, but uncomfortable. Displeased. Frustrated. Scared. I don't like not knowing what's going on inside his precious little body. And honestly --and please don't be offended by this-- I also don't like being reminded that God is in control, that He has such an awesome plan for us, yadda yadda. We've been jerked around a lot lately. I'm not saying I don't believe that it's true; I'm just saying that what I need from you are prayers for healing and not reminders and notes suggesting that I should just lie back and acquiesce to whatever happens. I'm fighting for Logan's life here on this earth and I plan to keep right on doing so, petitioning and begging and trying my very best to believe.

Oh, and the pic line? Philippa pulled it out. It was kinked and no longer usable. Go figure.