"I want to see it mommy, the bell, I want to look at it," so after ten plus hours of chemo I rolled her over to the bell and she just stared at it. After a minute or so she said, "Ok, lets go." and we rolled away.
My three year old beauty was lounged back in her stroller, quiet, and seemed to be a million miles away. I buckled her into her car seat, and handed her the travel bucket in case she was sick. "Mommy.... that bell was so high....will my daddy lift me up to ring it?" she asked. "Of course he will, of course," I managed to say. She drifted off to sleep, and I cried the whole way home. Is that what she was thinking about? Worrying about? I love her.
A few weeks earlier I noticed a teen oncology patient really watching us.. .Taylor and me. It was hard to read his face behind his mask, but his eyes almost looked like tears were threatening to spill. I smiled, and we headed back to the infusion room. Later that same day I stepped outside of Taylor's curtain after she recovered from a melt down. I took a deep breath,and before I could turn to walk back in I heard, "She won't remember this..." and looked up to see the teen. "I was little when I started, and I only remember what people told me." It was so comforting, so kind, so heartbreaking all at the same time.
I feel out of sorts..... Is this really almost over? I felt a wave of guilt when a doctor sang out that we had just a few treatments left. A women across from me looked at me and smiled, but I could see the hurt in her eyes. She wants her baby to be done too. All these kids are united by their disease, their bravery, and their will to live. No child deserves it more than another, they are all equally entitled.
I called a supply store I use for my business on Thursday because I needed to pick up a few things without going in. They know our situation, and often process my payment over the phone and meet me outside with my items. One particular worker there is quiet, and rarely meets my eyes when I see him. The times we have been able to go inside he gives Taylor an extra wink, and kneels down to her level to talk to her. Sometimes he gives her a party hat or a beaded necklace, it always warms my heart, and makes her day.We pulled up, after a long day of chemo, and he came out in the rain to put my boxes in the car. I thanked him, and turned to get back in my car. "Brooke? We are here for you." I heard him say. I turned to see him with tears in his eyes, looking straight into my eyes. He glanced into the car, and looked at my sick, sleeping girl, and shook his head, "No kid should have to go through this," he choked out. Isolation didn't feel so lonely in that moment. How kind of him to step out of his comfort zone and show his support. Being kind matters. It saves people. It strengthens people. Kindness can give people hope about their situation, and the state of this world in general. Kindness matters.
I registered Taylor for pre-school this Fall. I signed her up for a mother's day out program at our church for this Spring. I'm looking into tumbling classes that she and Max can do together. Swimming lessons are in the works. I finally located our library.... I booked a trip. I bought Taylor barrettes for when her hair starts growing back. We all get our lives back soon......6 more treatments my dears. There is a light.
