It’s been a minute or a week and a half. Not sure which. We have been working on carving some sort of routine and normalcy out of the raw marble of chaos that has attempted to define us.
A rock of hope out of the mountain of despair.
Leo has been through two more rounds of chemo. There’s not really been anything I would qualify as normal any time. The nursing staff are all crazy awesome. That’s a big plus. They loved the shirts, too, which Leo, Peter, and I all rocked on our last journey.
Peter is now pretty well known there. When possible, I bring him in too. He’s excellent ballast for Leo. Peter also adores the attention he gets there and the movies he gets to watch.
He and I got to go out on a run together. Well, I ran, he biked. Nothing complicated. No deep conversations. But it was everything he needed. Just a little time. Leo’s heart is beginning to lighten and he’s acting more like a boy again. One thing is still the same. He and I are much closer than we’ve ever been. There’s a bond there now that I would never have imagined. I miss him more when he’s not planted right by my side. He seeks me out at random points in the day if we haven’t been hanging out just to “boop” my nose.
Johanna is experiencing pure bliss with Nana here. All the imagination time needed and all of the girly exclamations available fall on adoring ears.
Judah is not a pacifier kid. He IS a fall asleep to worship music kid. There’s something so beautiful and wonderful to that. Worship music is so much a part of his story.
Last Thursday, everything was fine. That night, Leo drove up a small fever. We weren’t sure if it was a bigger thing to be concerned about. His meds also mask fevers. So a small fever might be indicative of more potent sickness. He was paler. He was sluggish. We were worried and brought him in.
The doc said we did right even though he was totally ok. You know, minus the cancer. She also said that based on his numbers he might actually be experiencing an early remission.
I don’t know why but that panicked me a little. I realized I had been preparing for everything but a miracle. And then an odd thought… do doctors know how to treat someone who’s experienced a miracle? What do we do after?
Just another experience of learning to let God be actually in charge.
But I had a cool thought. Years down the road when he’s living the fullness of his life to the fullest, we will look back at this time when we gathered closely with one another and with our extended family. Even with family across the globe. We are so ridiculous in blessing.
And he will just have had cancer.
That’s what it means to walk through The Valley of the Shadow. You have to walk it. And if you’re walking it with God, you will walk through.