Ironing Out Inevitable Wrinkles - HEAVY post

The machine wizzed and whirred beneath my feet. I held my shoulders back, core solid and swung my legs hard, pelvis as open as I could with toes pointing forward. ONE. TWO. ONE. TWO. The treadmill absorbed the punishment I slammed out the bottoms of my feet. If only I could pound my haunting depression out so easily! I willed it with EVERY. SINGLE. STOMP!

This derailment of my family's serene, humble little path seems to have nudged me toward the edge of the precipice. I am ANGRY. I am confused. I am lost. My self as I know how to be fixes things. She carves her dreams out of life and celebrates every tiny victory of every tiny being. She stands at the top of her mountain and reaches down for anyone scrambling to share the view. She laughs into the wind and dances in the rain.

Oh man, am I angry. I detest being this pathetic, ineffective, ungracious little gnat. I am confused. I am so fortunate to have such an amazing life... more than I even knew what or how to dream of. I worked hard to effect what I wanted and when life picked me up into a whirlwind of amazing journeys, I hung on tight and drank it all in like a starved dog. Then I got cocky. I was convinced that if a person just opened themselves up and threw every ounce of their positive energy out there, it would all come back. Sure, I did appreciate and cherish every little thing gifted to me, but I pitied those who could not find their own Utopia. Who am I to pity anyone? What gave me the right to shake my head for any reason?

I am surrounded by crumbling health and tumbling hearts. There is just nothing like watching a child's health be battered before helpless parents' eyes.

I hide, as best I can, myself from my husband. I know that it is not functioning as a true team, as we promised to be to each other through this. All the man ever wanted out of life was a solid little family. The least I can do for one who lays his entire self in my hands, is give him that. I've always felt that my hands were just too small to hold him all, and yet, I find myself impossibly more ill-equipped, of late. He's had so, so much to carry, himself. There should be a quota... "Any one person on this Earth is entitled to only so many life trials". Only, I haven't had to suffer very many, myself. Maybe I'm the one throwing the curve...

Clearly, I've got a mere fingertip on this edge of my sanity. I dance a little dosie-doe with my solid logic and emotional turmoil all day long. I know, for instance, that there are just as many happy stories on our floor as there are not. We are one such story and I feel some guilt but more relief about that. I also know that it's the constant pressure of our situation, combined with a stalled professional pursuit that's dipping me down into this black pool. I have been working, in some fashion, toward my goals since I was 13 and had no goals, other than climbing up onto the back of the nearest horse. Additionally, I know that I have endless love and support from a massive and formidable network of family and friends. Most of all, I know (I HOPE) that I will return to myself when this all blows over and life settles into a mundane routine. I will NEVER again wish for the tiniest second for something exciting to shake things up. Now that "I" is no longer just me, this kind of happenstance has massive reverberating effects.

Part of me still wonders if all that positive self I was tossing about willy-nilly earned us some points... we're definitely going to get through this - in some respects better off than we went in. What exactly is the "Power of the Universe"? I am way too small for questions so massive.

Our man is doing well, by the way. Tackling a little digestive bug and losing some weight, but is in fiesty good spirits and continuing to hold his own. He is our rock.

Another Surgery

One of his Central Lines blocked up on us this week. Repeated attempts to get it flowing again failed and the call was made to pull it. He's due to go under for his routine Spinal and Biopsy in another two weeks, but they feared infection before then. He sailed through the 20 minute procedure, as usual. Dealing with only one line is almost as much a relief as having the opportunity to watch one site heal... I can't help but latch on to and treasure the false feeling of being that much closer to the end.

My stomach churns when I think of all that his little body is going through to eradicate this monster. Before he is one year old, he will be older than I am. There are those who rage that traditional medicine is an unnecessarily toxic method of battling cancer, that a better way to go about it is to build the body up nutritionally. While every fibre of my being screams at what's being done to him, my rational wizard knows there's nothing we could have done better to avoid this situation to begin with. I can't, from our experiance, lend credence to the whole "build from within" approach. Additionally, this type of Leukemia doesn't give us time for such a laid-back action plan. It hits hard and fast, and so must we.

I often have the sensation of jumping off a cliff without my eyes.

Yet Another Amazing Performance

I was worried that this stronger round of chemo would slow him down, but there's just no doing it! The doctors keep shrugging their shoulders and shaking their heads.

Almost as soon as he hit that crib mattress, he was practicing his crawling. I just love watching him wabble back & forth on all fours like a cheap card table! It's his new favourite ride. He even managed to push himself back up into a sitting position at one point, though we've yet to see the fluke again.

A shot of his practice work:

A typical sequence of Kaleb faces:

Some snapshots of our stay at home this round...

This is my toy bin.
My favourite dance. I'm a little tea pot...

These are my toys!

Necessary Evils

There’s something so emptying about watching your child submit to anaesthetic, as though your own life force drains right out the bottom of your being while you watch his vivacious consciousness fade. Eyes droop, chubby legs reluctantly give up their feisty activity and drop to the mattress, busy fingers still, as though someone pressed pause. Though I’ve watched many an animal go through this, I could not stay in the room for Kaleb’s little operation. He was in and out in less than 30 minutes, letting the world know at top volume that he did not appreciate the sneak-attack. Even while he was trying to re-establish his equilibrium, I could not relax. He downed an entire bottle and had a 10 minute power snooze only to burst awake, look around and let loose his signature screech, in three short bursts to say Hullo to all who were there. Not until then could I let loose the breath my entire body had been holding.

These bone marrow tests and spinal taps will occur every round and are performed there every day. My brain knows the logic of this situation, and yet I cannot force my emotions to reason it out.

Back in on Friday. I'm eager to pass the mid-point. This round will be shorter, but stronger. I'm hopeful that our little man can continue to hold up so well.