Leading up to Christmas always seems like just a double edged sword. As November rounds the corner, I struggle with finding my footing between the pending holidays, and Brinley's cancerverary. As the days tick down to November 19th, I try to take them 5 minutes at a time. I wish the date in itself didn't have such a huge impact on me, I wish I didn't give a 24 hour period so much power. I can only hope that in years from now, I can look back and realize that November 19th has passed by without my knowledge.
I can sit here and type the same thing I have written over and over again, but I can't stress enough how one hour has such an impact on my life. Two years ago, when I sat next to my husband on a tan leather couch, I was taking our hour conversation with the Children's Hospital Oncology team, 5 minutes at a time. Allowing the basic facts sink in, my child has leukemia, my baby has cancer, my baby girl might die. I can look back, two years later and recall most of that conversation, I know how I felt, I can recall the sad sympathetic faces of well practiced doctors and counselors. I often wonder how many times they have had to sit down unsuspecting parents and give them this devastating news, did they all respond the way I had? Did they blink back the tears and nod quietly, stone faced, trying to tame the screaming parental voice in their head?
November is tough.
 |
| Day of diagnosis, 6 months into chemo, 1 year after diagnosis, and 2 years after diagnosis. |
 |
| Getting her IV |
 |
Her resilience leaves me speechless
|
 |
Having a rough time with chemo and steroids.
|
 |
Sleeping the day away.
|
