51 Hours

I’m not a writer.   I don’t pretend to be.  Sometimes I can express how I feel with words.  Other times I look back and think how I could have written things so much differently.  This is one of those posts.  I’ll never get it right.  I can and have re-written my thoughts and emotions a multitude of times.  I know what I mean to say, yet it just isn’t there.  I did my best.  And with that, here’s my story.

 

Brady is my delicate child.  He is often sick.  And believe me when I say I do not take healthy weeks with him for granted.  Since his procedure on October 5^th; he has been sick.  He has had hand-foot-mouth, strep throat, at least two UTIs, and viruses here and there.  Somehow though, this last illness was different for me.  Thanksgiving, even though it was wonderful, was challenging with Brady.  He didn’t sleep well.  In fact, I was up with him nearly an entire night (until I convinced myself that 5:00am wasn’t too early to ask grandma for help so I could sneak in a couple hours of sleep).  And his behavior during those restless nights weren’t typical either.  We made it through the weekend and Monday morning an appointment was made to see the pediatrician.

The appointment time came and all four of us were in the doctor’s office.  I explained my concerns, our pediatrician did his “doctor-like” checks, and then we sat there to discuss what could be ailing our little boy.

And that’s when it happened.  That’s when the words came out.  That’s when my heart stopped, my chest got tight, and it took all I had not to vomit as I held Tessa on my lap and David held Brady.

"I need to test your son for Luekemia/Lymphoma.”

It seems like we all know someone who has heard these words before.  I would never be too naïve to imagine that I wouldn’t hear them myself.  But I guess, in my mind, I assumed that if and when I ever did hear those words, that they would be in regards to me…not my child.

Right then, on November 30^th at 2:50pm, my life changed forever.

I left the room with Tess, so they could take the blood they needed to run tests on my son.  I cried as I heard him screaming five rooms away.  I cried because I knew he was hurting.  I cried because I wasn’t there to hold him.  I cried because I knew I needed God’s strength.  And I cried because of the unknown.

We left. 
We left with stickers, with suckers, and in silence.

We prayed.  All night I cried and I prayed.  Life doesn’t stop with news like this; no matter how much you want to hold on to moments or rush through the hours. 

We did what we had to do.  We made dinner, we went to work, the kids went to school, we lived life as “normal” as we could.

We cried, a lot.  And we prayed, a lot.

There were some other concerns the doctor had and because of them, Brady was scheduled for a CT on Wednesday, December 2^nd.  David and I made arrangements with our jobs and we took Brady for his test.  It wasn’t easy or painless for any of us but the images they needed were achieved.  We took our tired boy home and the four of us made the best of our evening.  We, as the adults, pretended that life was normal for the kids.  They’re too young; they don’t understand.  It’s the Christmas season, they’re excited.  They want to watch Christmas movies.  They want to make cookies.  They want to eat candy canes and talk about Santa.  So we do.

The phone would ring, and our hearts would stop.  No news is good news they say…

And around 6:00pm…we got our call.

 

“First of all, there are NO tumors.  Brady does not have cancer…  …  …  …”

 

By the grace of God, Brady does not have Luekemia/Lymphoma or the other form of cancer that they were suspicious for.  He does have his issues, all which we can deal with. 

I screamed, I cried, and we all hugged each other so tight. 

Tess wouldn’t let go of me and kept asking “mommy, are you alright.”  I had to explain to her that sometimes you cry really hard when you are happy.  And so, that’s what we did.

We cried happy tears.  We called our families and shared the good news.  We made dinner together, we prayed and thanked God for blessing us, we watched Christmas shows, we named our silly Elf and started our Christmas traditions a few days late, and then all four of us slept in one bed. 

And it was the best night of my life.

I will never forget those 51 hours.  I will never forget how much I prayed and who to thank for blessing our little boy.