My blog was based on the Journal I wrote sitting beside Nick’s hospital bed 1999 – 2000. The first blog post for HIMH was November 2011. I’ve regularly posted blog entries from the Journal but I’m struggling now, skirting the edges of a wall.
My friend Lorelie’s six year old daughter Kendra relapsed three years after a regime of chemo for leukemia. Lorelie said it was so much harder, so much more sad, and horrifying having a history and education in the terrors of cancer treatment – knowing what was to come and how much her child would suffer. A bone marrow donor was found and Kendra got her transplant. She survived the grueling transplant protocol. It was the longest year. The most unforgiving year. Kendra relapsed again, and died. It was 1999.
It took a long time and boxes of tissue after Nick’s death for me to be able to go back and read the Journal at the beginning (of the end). I began the blog in November 2011. Faithfully I post each month. My stats show thousands of people have visited my blog and were introduced to my little boy, his plight and his family.
The Journal marches toward the day he took his last breath. It isn’t long now. But my fingers have stiffened, and I’ve become afraid to write. I read the Journal as I prepare each post. It is so hard, and so sad. I’m a wet, wringing mess when it’s done. At the time, 1999, we didn’t have a clue. We were told he was dying, but we just couldn’t comprehend losing this amazing and beautiful child.
But you see, now I know how it ends.
I’m still posting, just not so much about the Journal. You’re still reading. Thank you for that. I will finish what I set out to do in 2011 and put up the whole Journal. I’m just going to give my tender heart as much time as it needs.
Nicholas 11 years old and me 1998
Do take your time with your journey. We will be here to care, to support, and read.
Thanks Carol.
I still say, “Don’t forget a single thing….” I periodically go over what I’ve written as well. The more I do, the more I can “own” my story and learn to live with it. It gets a teensy-bit easier each time. And it helps to read what others have gone through. Yes, a lot of tissues get ratted in the process, but it helps to hear of someone else stumbling through a similar journey. Thank you for including Lorelie and Kendra’s story, so much like my own. And thank you for quoting me on the side. It is sad, yes. But I feel like I’ve found home here tonight. And remembering the sadness makes finding the joy so much sweeter. Cheers, Susan.
Robin, your comments are balm. I wish to God neither of us knew this path we stumble along but having you beside me sure does help.