Wednesday, June 24, 2015
Monday, June 15, 2015
"Write hard and clear about what hurts."
First of all, sorry about the ridiculously long absence from the blog. May and June so far have been crazy busy, which I realize is my go-to excuse, but it's true.
I kept thinking over the weekend I would post some pictures to do a catch-up of what we've been up to. Then, tonite, I got a phone call. I was pulled to write. Compelled to write. Just knew if I write it will make me feel better.
Let me start at the beginning. A couple of weeks ago I interviewed the mom of a two and a half year old little boy who was fighting a rare form of leukemia. Chris, the gal I work with, sent me a message and said, story for next week? She didn't have to say it, but I got the feeling this story was going to be mine.
I met with Christina, the mom, at her apartment and interviewed her and talked for about an hour. All the while, little Jaycob laid on the couch and would get uncomfortable briefly and go back to sleep.
He has some of the same things Blake has - a port. A G-tube. Special formula. Lab draws. The whole works. After giving her a brief background about Blake, Christina said to me, "It is so refreshing to talk to somebody who actually knows what I'm talking about."
On a mom of a critically ill child level, I could totally relate to her and feel her pain and frustrations about the situation.
Jaycob was diagnosed 12 days before Blake had his transplant. Just a day or two after our interview Jaycob went septic and almost didn't make it. Sound familiar? Since last weekend, he has been treated with antibiotics and has been at Blank Children's Hospital in Des Moines.
Tonight, my phone rang and I say Christina's name pop up. She was calling to tell me that they found out that Jaycob had a very bad fungal infection. When she saw her doctor walking out of the room crying, she knew it was a bad sign. The doctor told her they didn't think Jaycob would be able to get through this because his immune system is shot right now.
What do you say? I cried. I kept saying, "I don't know what to say. I am so sorry."
Christina assured me that she wasn't giving up on her little Superman just yet, but they were going to try to bring him home and keep him comfortable.
Do you know what she said to me? She said, "I never thought an infection would take him. I thought it would be the leukemia. I guess I'm talking to you because you know what it's like when your child has an infection and the doctor tells you that they just don't know if they will make it."
Yep. Even more tears. My heart just hurts. I was instantly back in that hospital room at UIHC and I could hear Aaron saying to the doctor, "This is really bad isn't it?" And the doctor's response, "I honestly don't know if he's going to make it through this."
I feel like crap that I have been through this. But, on the other hand, if I could help one person by giving them somebody to talk to, then I guess that's ok. I constantly wonder what I'm supposed to be doing with "this." "This" meaning the life we've been given with Blake. Am I doing what I'm supposed to? Should I be doing more? I just don't know. I'm doing the best I can.
Friends, I ask you this. Will you do what you're comfortable with - send some prayers or happy thoughts Jaycob and Christina's way? I know they could sure use them.
We never know what this life has in store and like I told Christina, miracles happen every day, but that's just the way I see it.