Scared to death

We got the call to confirm this afternoon.  Ty's MRI is scheduled for 8:30AM tomorrow, which means we will leave the house around 6:00 so we can get there an hour early for anesthesia clearance.  I feel so, so sick.  I can't wait for tomorrow to be over, and I don't want it to ever come. 

In the meantime, we have been passing time by playing with our new treasures. It isn't Christmas without a new Hess Truck (this one has a jet plane attached!), and Gavin loves this crazy bouncy reindeer toy that Aunt Lynda and Uncle Rudy found for him.  He's obsessed, it's really cute.  In fact, tonight he tried to pull him up onto his high chair so they could eat fish sticks together. 

This picture was taken before Ty's weakness set in on his left side



Gavin, his crazy hair, and his Reindeer

We had a really nice day today doing ordinary things under the most extraordinary circumstances.  Cleaning the house, playing games, opening new toys, building race tracks for our new Hot Wheels...  but I can't help my mind from wandering into a whirlwind of worry and darkness.  When I see how limp Ty's left arm is.  When I watch him scoot over to his toys with less than half the strength and stability he had two weeks ago.  Aargh!  My skin is just crawling!!! I am scared to death. LEAVE HIM ALONE!  Please don't let this be cancer.  Anything but cancer.  My poor baby boy.  He should be walking by now.  He should be building up his strength so he can play on a playground this Spring.  He should be getting stronger every day, not weaker.  It's just so f*#&ing unfair.  Why is this happening to him?  But, you would all be so proud if you could see him.  He has an unbreakable spirit and he remains happy and giggly despite this setback.  I aspire to show even a small percentage of the same strength, confidence and courage that he has.  He is my superhero and he won't let this get him down. 

 

Two of our friends drove up from the city to spend the evening with us and that was a tremendous help.  It forced us to stay positive and to try and allow our minds to forget about tomorrow for a while.  We stepped out for a quick dinner and I was relieved to talk about things other than pediatric cancer and MRIs over a delicious meal.  Unfortunately, I want to throw up every last bite right now.  Every time I stand up I feel disgustingly nauseous.  I have a headache from involuntarily clenching my teeth all day.  My stomach is cramping. I am such a wreck, I can't stand it, but I am staying strong for Ty.  I share only smiles and laughter with Ty and Gavin because that is what they need to be surrounded by.  Not my fears and my worries.  I hold onto all of that until I have a chance to spill my guts here.     

Colleen has upped the ante from 500,000 to one million angels.  That's how many she tells me will fill the room tomorrow.  One million plus one... two... three... That is what I envision as we leave our sleeping baby in the "cold room".  That more and more angels are squeezing in as the door closes.  That they fill every bit of air in the room and lay over my baby in a blanket of light.  It gives me so much comfort, that vision.  As Father Jordan said last Wednesday, "he is going to be okay." 

We have received a few new gifts in advance of this MRI that I will be bringing with me tomorrow (along with the dozens of other items I bring to the hospital when I am most worried).  A "miracle" star, a lucky ladybug from a little girl that has a great story behind it, and the most beautiful bracelet I have ever owned.  My neighbor made it just for me and it is so special.  It's a charm bracelet filled with saint medals and spiritual charms - some old, some new.  It makes a lot of jingly noise, which I love, and I will add some of my own charms to it soon (including the "keep fighting" charm that I wear every day and the Saint Peregrine medal that I pin to Ty's clothing sometimes).  All of these things help to bring me peace while we sit and wait for the results. 

Ty and Gavin are so lucky and so loved.  They have gotten some very, very special care packages this holiday season, and I want to take a second to thank everyone.  I can't tell you how special it is to see Ty's face light up when a package arrives.  He is always so excited and so grateful.  One fun thing that was included in a great big package from friends in Texas - because everything is big in Texas ;) - was a package of wish paper.  We had never seen this before.  In the note, our friend suggested we use the wish paper on New Year's Eve, but I felt tonight was even more appropriate.  We wrote several wishes down for a clean MRI tomorrow and always, we wished for a cure for cancer, Ty wished for "no more cancer" and, of course, candy.  Then we rolled up the paper, lit it on fire, and "POOF" watched it float into the sky and disappear.  Our wishes went up to heaven :)  I truly believe they did!!  Here's Ty participating in the fun.  You can see a floating, burning wish up in the corner on the last photo.  Ty was watching it float away in awe.  It was really a lot of fun. 

Isn't he looking like such a big boy!?!  I am amazed at these pictures and I see him every second of every day!  Before I sign off for the night, I want to leave you with these positive truths.  I believe that Ty remains cancer free and that the MRI will prove just that.  I believe that he is suffering because the daily chemotherapy is making him weak and that's all. 

I believe in our love, and the power behind it.  I believe that we can move mountains together.  I believe that our souls are intertwined.  I believe that he is a miracle and I am so happy he is mine. 

I am off to go snuggle up to my sleeping boy, hold his warm hand in mine, run my fingers across his head and stare at his soft, peaceful face for the next five hours until we leave for the hospital.  Love him so much.   Thank you for all of your love and support.