At one point, Charlie Brown sees the new kid come into the class and instantly falls in love with the little red headed girl. She happens to look at him, and he gets all anxiety-filled and runs from the classroom to the nurse's office. While sitting and waiting, the kid next to him asks him what's the matter. He explains the common symptoms of love and then says, "It seems I have come down with an extreme case of inadequacy!" His statement struck me deep. An extreme case of inadequacy. I have come down with it too.
Caden's appointment on Thursday went well. He's gained weight, which was almost cause for cartwheels down the hallway! He still has to gain about 10 pounds before we will approach the subject of ending TPN, but any weight gain after the last two months is cause for celebration! He also has had zero pain for a while, so it was nice to say that the only medication from the list of 18 (no, I'm not kidding. Caden has had 18 medications prescribed since January- not including the chemo) was a regularly scheduled anti-nausea med, Zofran. Even that was kind of taken down from every 8 hours to ever 12. Things have been going well. Not great when you compare it to the last year of his life, but not as hard and awful as the last two months. Things have kind of settled into a chaotic "normal."
She was super happy to see that he wasn't puking up his toenails, although he has thrown up at least once every day. She helped me remember perspective, since I was kind of downtrodden thinking that he had to throw up at all! Without Chemo and a massive tumor, shouldn't he be done with throwing up? That was my mind set. She quickly helped me remember that it could be worse. I needed someone to help me remember, it seems, because I set myself up to fail when I got it into my head that things would go back to our old "normal" once chemo and surgery happened. I knew he would be weak and more than a bit frail, I just didn't expect nausea and vomitting to follow us from Seattle. It is hard when the mind is set and reality doesn't follow the script.
Thursday night started the first day of our new cancer chapter. We were promised that he shouldn't feel all of the same side effects of this drug, since it is not normally one that makes people puke up their toenails. However, since this is Caden, I don't think we should be promised anything. We were promised that Vincristine was the easiest of any of the chemo's they give, yet it was still quite hard every single day. Nothing should ever be promised with cancer. Nothing is ever sure enough for a promise. I guess all cancer promises are like Mary Poppins's Pie Crust Promises: Easily made, easily broken. I think the only thing that can be promised about cancer is that it is going to feel like the seventh circle of Hades.
I didn't expect the side effects to hit him on the first dose. Again, my mind... The diarrhea hit him less than 12 hours after taking the three pills. And the vomitting was never far behind. As I watched him heave and wretch for like the sixth time yesterday, I was struck just as violently as his vomitting with my own extreme case of inadequacy. I think it has finally hit me how serious this is. We have moved from an intense stand to one where we are looking for more time. We are simply trying to stunt the aggressive monster that threatens the very life of The Boy In the Bed. I was seized with worry that I wouldn't be enough for this boy anymore. That it may come to a point where there is truly nothing left for his mother to do. That I will have to watch him violently vomit every single day for the next stage of this cancer fight. That I will slowly lose my mind to his suffering. Can I be enough? Will I be asked to endure this heartache while my son endures this suffering? How can I possibly be strong enough?
And then {this} article was brought to my memory. I had read it a few weeks ago, and once again was struck by the truthfulness of it. My favorite part of the whole thing, and I love it all, was this statement...
Just when we thought we couldn’t, just when we were sure that there was no way we ever could, we discover that we had it in us all along. Because we have Him.
I don’t know what can’t you’re facing, but whatever it is, remember this with me. Each can’t you overcome becomes a sentence in your heart that tells the story, “She did.” And just when you are sure that you can’t handle it… that it’s too big for you… that it’s too impossible or you’re not strong enough or equipped to face it… Remember that you were never designed to do it alone.
And once again, another mother helped me realize that things could be worse. This has not been easy. It will never be easy. My son has cancer, and it breaks my heart. But I have help from my Heavenly Father. So I will renew my courage, grab a green vomit bag and some tissues, and draw near to Caden's side while he ventures through the unknown journey of this new chapter of our fight. We both, he and I, are not alone.
Caden's appointment on Thursday went well. He's gained weight, which was almost cause for cartwheels down the hallway! He still has to gain about 10 pounds before we will approach the subject of ending TPN, but any weight gain after the last two months is cause for celebration! He also has had zero pain for a while, so it was nice to say that the only medication from the list of 18 (no, I'm not kidding. Caden has had 18 medications prescribed since January- not including the chemo) was a regularly scheduled anti-nausea med, Zofran. Even that was kind of taken down from every 8 hours to ever 12. Things have been going well. Not great when you compare it to the last year of his life, but not as hard and awful as the last two months. Things have kind of settled into a chaotic "normal."
She was super happy to see that he wasn't puking up his toenails, although he has thrown up at least once every day. She helped me remember perspective, since I was kind of downtrodden thinking that he had to throw up at all! Without Chemo and a massive tumor, shouldn't he be done with throwing up? That was my mind set. She quickly helped me remember that it could be worse. I needed someone to help me remember, it seems, because I set myself up to fail when I got it into my head that things would go back to our old "normal" once chemo and surgery happened. I knew he would be weak and more than a bit frail, I just didn't expect nausea and vomitting to follow us from Seattle. It is hard when the mind is set and reality doesn't follow the script.
Thursday night started the first day of our new cancer chapter. We were promised that he shouldn't feel all of the same side effects of this drug, since it is not normally one that makes people puke up their toenails. However, since this is Caden, I don't think we should be promised anything. We were promised that Vincristine was the easiest of any of the chemo's they give, yet it was still quite hard every single day. Nothing should ever be promised with cancer. Nothing is ever sure enough for a promise. I guess all cancer promises are like Mary Poppins's Pie Crust Promises: Easily made, easily broken. I think the only thing that can be promised about cancer is that it is going to feel like the seventh circle of Hades.
I didn't expect the side effects to hit him on the first dose. Again, my mind... The diarrhea hit him less than 12 hours after taking the three pills. And the vomitting was never far behind. As I watched him heave and wretch for like the sixth time yesterday, I was struck just as violently as his vomitting with my own extreme case of inadequacy. I think it has finally hit me how serious this is. We have moved from an intense stand to one where we are looking for more time. We are simply trying to stunt the aggressive monster that threatens the very life of The Boy In the Bed. I was seized with worry that I wouldn't be enough for this boy anymore. That it may come to a point where there is truly nothing left for his mother to do. That I will have to watch him violently vomit every single day for the next stage of this cancer fight. That I will slowly lose my mind to his suffering. Can I be enough? Will I be asked to endure this heartache while my son endures this suffering? How can I possibly be strong enough?
And then {this} article was brought to my memory. I had read it a few weeks ago, and once again was struck by the truthfulness of it. My favorite part of the whole thing, and I love it all, was this statement...
Just when we thought we couldn’t, just when we were sure that there was no way we ever could, we discover that we had it in us all along. Because we have Him.
I don’t know what can’t you’re facing, but whatever it is, remember this with me. Each can’t you overcome becomes a sentence in your heart that tells the story, “She did.” And just when you are sure that you can’t handle it… that it’s too big for you… that it’s too impossible or you’re not strong enough or equipped to face it… Remember that you were never designed to do it alone.
And once again, another mother helped me realize that things could be worse. This has not been easy. It will never be easy. My son has cancer, and it breaks my heart. But I have help from my Heavenly Father. So I will renew my courage, grab a green vomit bag and some tissues, and draw near to Caden's side while he ventures through the unknown journey of this new chapter of our fight. We both, he and I, are not alone.
❤️❤️❤️❤️
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