Wednesday, September 4, 2013

September is EVERYwhere.

It's September.  It's back to (home)school.  It's back to cool night and crisp mornings.  It's back to childhood cancer awareness month.  I am seeing gold everywhere, and I love it, and I ...hate it.  It's hard to not going around in my brain it sounds like this:
"wonder how Matteo is doing, must wash the apples, wonder if Abby is okay, why is the baby crying..dear Lord, let Nicco be alright, time to switch the laundry, thank God Cameron is done, hope Luke is not going to relapse, lunch time now? What about Sam, is he doing okay..."
And it goes on and on.  I check in on these children constantly, because that's where my heart is at.  I care. I think of the children fighting since they were born, those finishing, and dealing with anxieties, those beginning, those in the middle, those re-starting...those who have passed...I think a lot, all day, about these kids.  About my kid. About CANCER.   I think that September, and the awareness month is brilliant.  Hopefully people will realize how little funding kids cancers receive.  Hopefully people will make a change.  Donate, spread awareness, help fund research, help cure these kids, without the constant torture they are made to endure.

It's hard to keep telling my child, nearly two years into, no dear, not done yet.  He will be as many years on treatment as he had lived off treatment, when he's done.  It's ludicrous.  Yet, it's hopeful.  I try and  remember always that we are lucky, he has a great chance of a great life.  I know we are lucky. So lucky.  Yet, some how it seems like someone missed the mark on it being easy.

I am embracing the fall harvest season, planning for a good and healthy winter, with frozen foods from our garden.  I am planning on a winter and a fall, and a spring. I wouldn't let myself think that far ahead before, but I am planning on a good year.  I don't see anything the way I once did.  I don't see it simple, or mundane.  I see it all as privileges.  Borrowed time. I see it all as brand new.  I see it all as small miracles....

My boy is now in Grade one.  He is not complaining.  He is eager to learn, to sit, to try.  He is eager to be a big boy, to know how to read.  He is eager, and I am thankful.  He sheds a new light on all our lives here at home.  We begin school, knowing..we have two days before chemos and steroids.  We begin fresh and know we do our best, on the days that we can, because some days, we wont be able to do this..those days, we just try and get by.  We look back as we post pictures, pictures to remind us, and others of what a cancer kid looks like.  They look like every parent's worst nightmare, they look afraid, tired, sick, frail, steroid puffy, they look weak, they look angry.  A lot of the photos also show Luke happy. Happy enough to give the camera a smile.  Happy enough, because there is no choice.  I do feel that the profound sadness and stress experienced through this life threatening illness, is not all bad.  It has lead our family closer together, it has strengthened our faith, even when we could not attend church. It has shown us that people can not save us, no one can save us, but God himself.  It has made us humbled, it has reduced us to nothing but whispered prayers, and hope.  From the ashes, we will rise, and hopefully we will be able to help and love others in similar situations.

I talk to Luke, those tender talks at night, when he should be asleep.  He talks about such wise things.  He talks of heaven. He prays diligently for others. His voice, and his words touch me deeply, and I hold onto these quiet moments as treasures that can not be contained in any place, but my heart, and head. I am very very pleased with my son.  He has endured more than any child should, or could, and he has issues, yet, he is a beautiful soul.  I see September. I see gold. I see pictures and post of children, sick and some healed.  I see families going through horrible times. I see smiles, and hope, I see a lot of people acknowledging the battles these warriors face, and honouring them. I see Luke, and I see a future that is bright!
Tomorrow we are back again, at the hospital for IV chemo, then his 2 oral chemos tomorrow night, then his steroids and tummy meds for steroids.  It will be yet another day, where I will feel deeply saddened, yet deeply thankful that 'it's only this.'  Please continue to pray for Luke and our family, as the constant meds are taking a toll.  Steroid pulses are difficult on Luke and his siblings.

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