Ty was running a fever late Tuesday night, so we ended up in urgent care - which is required any time a chemo patient has a temperature. He was so adorable through it all. In fact, when we left the house at 3:30 in the morning on Wednesday, he was wide awake and in a surprisingly good mood. He didn't put up a fight about going to the hospital, which shocked me. And, thank God, too. Because if he screamed the entire way after I only got 3 hours of sleep I would have gone completely insane.
We stopped for gas and a buttered roll at "On the Go" which reminded him of our routine when I used to take him to preschool. He asked me to put on a CD and he sang his abc's and "wheels on the bus" all the way to the hospital. Yes, I have become THAT mom who drives around town in a family car with "wheels on the bus" blasting. Lou and I tried to resist, but somewhere along the lines the children's CD collection in the car began to build up.
During the car ride in, I started to get sad watching him eat his buttered roll because I thought about how much normal, fun kid stuff he is missing out on. Whenever that happens, I have to remember that none of this will matter, as long as one day he is graduating college/walking down the aisle/living life, who cares if he falls behind on his abc's or gets left back a year at school. What difference does it make, really.
I wasn't able to post yesterday because I spent the last 24 hours laying nose to nose with Ty. I stare at him while he sleeps for hours. I caress his head and I curse the cancer under my breath while silently praying/begging for him to get better. Today I was reminded of something my mom told me when I was in high school. She used to work at a doctor's office and I remember vividly this one day she shared with me. She had to change the dressing on a young man with very serious melanoma. She said he was so young (early 20s) and she was so moved by his situation that she began to cry while she was working on him and that, as silly as it sounds, she was silently praying with all of her strength for God to allow her hands to heal him while she changed his dressing. I don't think she knows whatever happened to that patient, and I like to think that maybe she did have healing hands. Maybe I do, too.