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.
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