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There are times that I worry about the raw truth of the words I write.  Yesterday, my mind was not in a good place.  It was the hardest day, to date.  It didn't matter what we did, what we gave him, or how he was positioned, Caden was in pain.  Mega pain.  He was moaning and fidgeting all day, at times crying silent tears in the bathroom to hide it from me.  By the end of the night, after he threw up at the apex of his pain (getting us closer day-by-day to his feeding tube cut-off weight), I pulled out the hardcore medications to knock him out.  I could care less about calories at this point of the day.  I could take his pain no more.

Randy made it to the RMH in time to see the end of it, only seeing Caden awake for about an hour.  It was a hopeless day that felt like we could never win against the demon that is leaving no room for his vital organs, eating, or even breath sometimes.  Randy asked if I had blogged, to which I responded that no one should hear about a day that I had just endured in any sort of truthful detail.  Randy said we should just write, "Today sucked!" and leave it at that.  I was tempted, but couldn't muster up enough energy to even type.  I had the arms of my Mister around me, while my son snored in a drug-induced stupor- I was content, if but for a moment.

Today was a better day.  A much better day.  We got the results of his Platelet count, which were unsurprisingly perfect, and cruised home for two days.  Caden said, "The only way that it will be worth the nausea is if we get to go to church."  So we did, making it only a couple minutes late.  He stayed for the remainder 2 1/2 hours.  On the way home, full of pain, Caden said, "It was worth the pain I feel."

His testimony strengthens my own.  I love him so much.

(By: Eliza Terry Roylance, Ensign 1/2016)

For now, we are home, we are happy, and we are together.  Two days of Heaven on Earth.