scars

the blurry skype image of Seth slumped down against the wall on the kitchen floor sobbing while my parents sit next to him trying to comfort him.  Some images are hard to see.

a brief moment of peace

I fasted today for my dad.  I felt peaceful.  Not assured that he would be healed, but peaceful.  I sat on the porch and looked at the trees and felt peace.

Last night was hard.  After learning that the cancer is back and has blown up like a bomb in my dad's head, I mainly just sat on the floor and cried.  We were so sure it was gone this time.  We even celebrated his one year cancer free anniversary just 3 weeks ago.  My parents and family were in Boston on a family vacation when they found out.  My dad was having a hard time swallowing all of the sudden so they went to the ER and they did a CT scan.  The cancer has grown from his jaw into his brain.  It is a mess.

Casmir Pulanski Day

Goldenrod and the 4H stone
The things I brought you
When I found out you had cancer of the bone

Your father cried on the telephone
And he drove his car into the Navy yard
Just to prove that he was sorry

In the morning, through the window shade
When the light pressed up against your shoulder blade
I could see what you were reading

All the glory that the Lord has made
And the complications you could do without
When I kissed you on the mouth

Tuesday night at the Bible study
We lift our hands and pray over your body
But nothing ever happens

I remember at Michael's house
In the living room when you kissed my neck
And I almost touched your blouse

In the morning, at the top of the stairs
When your father found out what we did that night
And you told me you were scared

All the glory when you ran outside
With your shirt tucked in and your shoes untied
And you told me not to follow you

Sunday night when I cleaned the house
I found the card where you wrote it out
With the pictures of your mother

On the floor at the great divide
With my shirt tucked in and my shoes untied
I am crying in the bathroom

In the morning when you finally go
And the nurse runs in with her head hung low
And the cardinal hits the window

In the morning in the winter shade
On the first of March, on the holiday
I thought I saw you breathing

All the glory that the Lord has made
And the complications when I see his face
In the morning in the window

All the glory when he took our place
But he took my shoulders and he shook my face
And he takes and he takes and he takes

Dreaming

There are times when I wake up that I forget what is happening, it feels distant and dream-like.  I feel normal and happy with just a slight nibbling itch at the periphery, like you have after waking up into a beautiful morning after a night plagued by nightmares - a lingering sense of unease.  I go about my days, trying to live life normally and fully, but then it all comes crashing down.  The slight nibbling comes roaring into the forefront and instead becomes a devouring monster.  I feel trapped in the nightmare unable to get out, unable to believe this is really truly, in-real-life happening.  

It all just feels like a bad dream.  Except it's not.

In which I attempt to make a burrito

I was just trying to make a burrito.  I had gotten out the tortillas and cheese, grabbed the can opener to open the beans, and was bending down to get a container to put the beans in when all of the sudden I was on my knees sobbing.  Hysterically, horribly, ugly-cry sobbing.  There may or may not have been some head banging against the dishwasher involved.  I couldn't breathe, I couldn't see, all I could do was rock back and forth on my knees, curled in a little ball of misery, and sob.  You know things are getting pretty bad when a little-ol' can of Rosarito Refried Beans can do that to you.

Earlier that morning I had called my parents to find out what the doctors at Mayo clinic had to say about the suspicious mass on the MRI.  It wasn't good.  The cancer is back, three tumors this time, growing insanely fast, and it is inoperable due to being too close to his carotid arteries.  Without some kind of successful treatment he has three months to live.  They have already tried all of the treatments available to treat osteosarcoma and none of them have worked, which means that we are out of options.

So here we sit.  Looking at alternative treatments.  Being a natural skeptic and having science degree, alternative treatments offer little promise to me.  But alternative treatments we will try anyway- off-label chemotherapy use, DNA mapping of the tumor looking for weak points, hoping that there is a drug developed for one of those weak point, and prayer.  Frankly, I am betting on prayer.  At this point we need a honest-to-goodness miracle to save my dad.  

But God is still a God of miracles and I believe.