Noah was admitted to Children's Hospital yesterday. He was battling a cough and looked very white so I decided to call the oncologist to see what their thoughts were. Because I am battling pneumonia I was very concerned. We started in Steinbach but were transported by ambulance to Children's.
The doctors did some blood work and found that Noah's counts are dangerously low, which makes him super prone to infections. We are still waiting for blood cultures to figure out if its bacterial, and where the infection is. If it's in his port, it could mean surgery to remove the port. Which would not be good as this is already Noah's second port on the other side. So for now they are treating it as bacterial until the know otherwise. Noah received a blood transfusion today as well.
There are some things in life you never forget. I will never forget the moment the doctor told us Noah had cancer. I remember the room clearly. The ambulance brought us to the exact same room that we found out Noah was sick July 4, 2012. It was a very odd feeling, seeing him in the room again. Sitting on the same bed, with the same picture of a wooden boat behind him. Me, sitting in the same small brown chair that I was sitting in when I heard the words your son has leukemia. Seeing the doctor leaning on the same counter telling me the risks of what low counts mean. It was a flood of memories and Noah and I both just wanted out of there. Luckily it only took about 3 hours and then we were in his room on CK5. Not the same room we stayed in before.
It's extremely frightening to see your child not well. You add cancer to it and it changes the game entirely. A simple cold is not so simple. Nothing is simple. Watching them access his port while tears pore down his cheeks is not simple. Being strong when the nurses and doctors are right there watching you try to calm your child is not simple. Nothing about having a child with cancer is simple. And some moments, if you let the fear of it all get to you, you feel like you are about to lose control of your entire body, mind and soul. But you can't because your child is depending on you. You have to be the strong one, you have to. There is no choice.
He's only 8. How can he possibly understand all this? And yet he surprises me so much. He is amazing. He is so brave, and strong and funny. I am in awe of my son. How this experience will mold him into a man one day, I can only imagine. But how do I get him there? How can I help him through this when sometimes all I want to do is scream "I HATE YOU CANCER!". And I did scream that, in my van, by myself. I hate this cancer. I hate everything about it. I hate what it has done to my son and our family. I hate seeing all those little ones in cancercare and on the ward battling it. I hate seeing my family suffer from it and die from it. I hate the fear that it brings in those of us that don't have it but surely will one day. I hate it. How do I turn this horrible thing into something good? To learn from? To help others? I just don't know.
And then in moments of clarity, I am so thankful. We have oncologists that we can call 24/7 and they will talk to us. We have a hospital not far away that will take Noah whenever they need to. We have so much. So much.
Thank you for the prayer. Prayer is one of those things where you don't really think you need it or should do it until you have nothing left to do but pray. It's terrible. We should be praying constantly. But we don't. We wait until things get bad and then we beg. But prayer is so important to do all the time. Sometimes I get caught up in how to pray or when or how long. And truthfully, throughout this last year and 5 months, my prayers have often been one word. Sometimes more, sometimes less. I just cant get any words out. Many times it's the word mercy. I can only manage to say the word, but I know that God hears my whole heart. I thank you all who lift us up in prayer when we just can't. It's so powerful, and we often don't realize that.