One of Nick’s shoes went missing while we were in the hospital so I’m shopping for another pair, but it’s not going so well because I can’t take him with me. The first pair I bought was too big because he’s lost so much weight even his feet are smaller. I’ve always been crazy about my kid’s feet. When they were little it made them giggle hysterically when I would say, “I’m going to paint your toes green like peas, and then eat them!” The thing is, I’m so crazy in love with my kids I feel like I could bite them.
I haven’t been able to wrap Nick up in a big hug since he got here. He’s been uncomfortably sick, and now with the CVC in his chest it hurts him to hug him. God I miss squeezing him! So, I sit at the end of his bed, put lotion on his feet and legs and relish my whole hand against his skin and flesh as I gently massage.
Nicholas has developed a goofy way of walking. His torso seems to be lagging behind his legs, if you can imagine what that looks like. It’s one those things that makes you want to laugh and cry at the same time. He’s unsteady and slow and it just adds to the vulnerable image of a kid with cancer. We’ve been told it’s partly due to shortened hamstrings, and partly due to the effects of chemo. The chemo delays the development of crawling in babies and walking in toddlers.
It’s supper time and the activity gears up at the House as families begin to cook. Just off the kitchen a couple of not-sick children (siblings) tear around the playroom. Tagging along behind and doing his best to keep up, a little boy about five years old with a huge grin, bops along with the most peculiar but endearing gait. I’m going to call it the “chemo lurch.”