The Impending Doom

As some of you know, Ellie's tumor has grown significantly since her last surgery.  She is scheduled for a more aggressive resection on February 16th, followed by chemotherapy.  I was not terribly shocked by this news.  After watching Ellie slowly slowly deteriorate this last fall, it seemed like something had to give.  But the bummer is having to be the one to spread this news.  My sister wants me to believe that this news has no impact on others, as a way of protecting me from this additional stress.  I know that it does impact others, just as I have been impacted when I hear stories of people I love not feeling well or undergoing surgery or whatever. 

The thing that strikes me is how so incredibly complex the emotions that I swing through throughout the day from despair, to relief at being able to do something, to gratitude for having another day with my family, to worry about what will happen, what will our lives look like for the rest of the year?  How will we cope?  How will we not wear everyone else out around us who are trying to support us?  And I think about how being in the hospital is all of these things too.  Complicated.  Yes I have moments when I laugh.  When I cry.  When I don't smell so sweet (oh, yeah, that's Thom).  I want to go into this experience being fully authentic and experiencing each experience as they present themselves.  During our last hospital stay, we naturally, ran into some hospital personnel that we had not seen in quite some time.  When they asked how we were doing, I said in a fake perkily way, "GREAT!"  Then I thought, "No, not GREAT!"  It was weird because the people asking me were wheeling a boy who was sedated and intubated to an MRI or from an MRI and another child with numerous broken bones had also just been wheeled into an MRI while sedated.  I don't know exactly why but seeing these children in this condition just struck me as so incredibly odd.  How can we do that?  It seemed both amazing and dreadful all that same time.  Complicated.  Like I said, that's why all the soap operas are set in hospitals.  The Drama. 

For me sometimes the anticipation of an upcoming surgery trying to figure it all out beforehand (impossible). Those moments when all is quiet and I am left with all the swirling twirling thoughts of what if, what will be, how can it be, what I want to get done...then suddenly sleep seems like a looong time coming.  I guess, once again, it is practice in appreciating and enjoying today, even if that means allowing some of that fear and anxiety to just be with me.  I keep reminding myself, "There is no surgery today.  There is no chemo today."  I'll just have to take it step by step and trust that we will figure it out along the way.