Today (actually two days ago…) marks three months since that crazy Friday, our into to AML.
We knew something was up and so I guess the good news is that we weren’t completely blind-sided. In hind-sight and after chatting with numerous families, it did make it easier. At least a little.
We’ve made it through the initial “Cancer” terror, the initial treatment, the life change.
People say “I don’t know how you’re doing it.” Well… the alternatives aren’t real appealing.
You just do, because you can’t not. But… you don’t know that unless you’re living it.
You do what you have to do. The sun rises and sets each day.
It’s still hard to tell people. And although it feels like we’ve been living this forever, there are people who don’t know. But it’s still hard. I take comfort that it’s hard for family members at Club Roswell to share – so I’m not alone. Comfort is good – I still feel like an out-of-control idiot sometimes. Sorry not my favorite word, but it completely fits.
Each day is different. Most are hopeful, uplifting. A few quite honestly suck.
Just like for everyone else – the difference is that we have the perspective that many don’t. The perspective that lets us instantly separate the wheat from the chaff. At least in our minds. No time or energy for the negative.
We’ve met so many wonderful people… experiencing so many different life experiences. We have been so very blessed and lucky with Youngest’s treatment – he is responding positively (listen for the knock on my desk). Not everyone does. It is heart breaking to hear the stories of some families and some patients. There are times that I feel so sad and scared and mad and so hopeful and focused and loved. Usually all of that mixed up in 10 minutes or so. It’s more emotion than I ever wanted to feel.
We’re living each day. Prepping for the next big thing – a peripheral stem cell transplant. Building up and staying healthy to get us to that point. At three months, our life is still very much focused on treatment and Club Roswell and prayers. Running is something we’re making more time for.
We are thankful to the people who have reached out – even those we may not have gotten back to yet. We will. There are things we’re not yet ready to do. Things that maybe we can’t do yet. Maybe counts won’t let us, maybe wellness won’t let us, maybe my heart isn’t up to it. We’ll get to it. It takes time to settle out from the insanity. I say it will be easier after the transplant, and that is (in part) my prayers.
A quarter, three months… can seem like forever. Yet it feels like only yesterday was that crazy February Friday the 13th. We’re so lucky and blessed to be where we are at this Q1 mark… and we know it!