Cancer Nesting

I had finished a blog for Living LFS about how we watch the shadows, and wonder about the sharks, always battling those closest to the boat.  I thought that I would step up my game a bit, and include a stock photo of some sharks with the post, which would require tech back up from my husband or kids.

The phone rang as Dan got home, our oncologist calling with the results of the next phase of the pathology.  Suddenly, it became clear that my kid had slipped into the water. Brent is now swimming with the sharks.  The best chance that we have, is for one of my other children to help him back into the boat. He needs a bone marrow transplant to cure his latest cancer.

They are all children.

I have been busy for the past week on multiple fronts.

Medically, there was the trip on St. Patrick's Day for our family.  We went to the hospital to be tested, all hoping that one of us is the lucky Perfect Match, and can be a donor for Brent.  I saw many touching photos that day, of oncology nurses with shaved heads, raising money for pediatric cancer research via St. Baldrick's.

We had a meeting after tumor board with the transplant team, to learn about what is involved in the transplant process, which is daunting all on its own.  It also happens to be littered with potential for complications.

I have been doing the things that I know, as a veteran of four previous tours of cancer duty:  Talking to folks at each of the schools; Contacting my social worker, my case managers, the insurance company;  Notifying those who I made commitments to, knowing that I will not be able to follow through; Canceling my few cleaning clients, which had been a feeble attempt at finding work; Cutting back on interests outside of my family.  I did this all understanding that it is necessary, but not without regrets. It was not always accomplished without tears.

I reached out to some researchers that I know.  I am using every tool at my disposal.  I am following the breadcrumbs that God puts in my path.  I pray.  A lot.

I have not yet been able to open the binder we recieved entitled "A guide to your child's transplant."  My volunteer work at the hospital, which I am forced to leave behind, asked for parent input in creating guides just like this.

Over the weekend, as Brent went to the Cav's game courtesy of a dear friend, and spent time with his buddies, I cleaned, organized, and tidied...both my house and my life. Like at the end of my pregnancies, I need to have things in order before we become indisposed. I am cancer nesting.

I have a quiet in me that I cannot explain, but one that am grateful for.  We wait to learn of a match.

We pray.

We wait.

We pray some more.