Sometimes when I start to feel the quicksand coaxing my spirit down into that dark place, I walk the halls of the hospital.
I am reminded that I can talk with my son, I can touch him, I can hold him, I can hear his "I love you's", and I can have hope that we will beat this disease. We get to leave this place in a few days, even if we do have to return regularly for the next 18 months.
As I watched a Life Flight Helicopter land on the roof of the hospital, I was struck with a deep feeling of gratitude that my son, daughter, husband, or other family member was not on that flight. While our battle is long, we have time to build up our endurance for the long haul ahead.
The suddenness of the diagnosis, while still stinging, has become more of a dull ache in my heart. I count the days we have had our wonderful son since cancer first tried to rob Alex of his life. Each of those days is a precious gift that I would not trade for the world.
Since his diagnosis, we have celebrated another birthday, I have watched him learn to write his name, I have seen his imagination hard at work, and witnessed him catching his first fish.
Perspective is hard when your child is facing cancer. Walking the halls, and witnessing the strength of the other patients and their parents reminds me that we do not suffer alone, and that heartache comes in many different forms. It also reminds me to hug my children, and tell them I love them as often as I can . I hope this post reminds you to hug those you love too.
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