I’ve not been posting many of the entries here on the blog lately. Stephanie has been handling the updates. No specific reason why, it just happens that way I guess. But here we find ourselves two years since we entered this nightmare. It is staggering to think back at the things that have happened with Scott.
There is nothing glamorous about all he has been through. No revelations we’ve experienced because of it. Mostly, we’ve seen horrors which are unimaginable. It is not a life experience anyone wants. We have no choice; it is just what happened to Scott and our family. You just deal in whatever manner you can muster.
Having a child with cancer is exhaustive mentally, physically, emotionally and financially. It has changed us all in the last two years. I can’t explain all of the changes, and likely don’t even realize most of them. Things are just different.
It seems most any conversation we have with anyone contains questions about how Scott is doing. One can almost guarantee some level of surprise or shock from the other party when you try to explain “yes, he’s still on chemo”, and the basics of a treatment protocol. At diagnosis, it was shocking and hard for us to even comprehend. It still is that way, but the explanations get tiring simply because all your energy is drained.
If all goes well and Scott has no more delays, his protocol will end in about 14 weeks from now. And that may be the scariest mark in the entire ordeal. Chemo is horrible. The side effects are horrible. But it is chemo which has been the security blanket. Scott had blasts at diagnosis. Chemo killed them. Chemo administered relentlessly pounds away at any blasts which may be trying to hang out in the nooks and crannies of the body. At this point, chemo is the security blanket – you know it kills the bad guy. I suppose a good analogy would be to have walked in a war-torn village in Iraq for a couple of years with full body armor, then one day waking up and having someone tell you “no more body armor”.
Don’t get me wrong – I want Scott’s treatment done as much as he and Stephanie do. I’m just trying to explain the impact all this has on the psyche. It is easy for folks who have never had a child endure this to say all the upbeat motivational things. The fact is - this will stay with us forever. Scott has no choice. He’ll always have regular medical tests others folks can ignore until their 40’s. He’ll never be able to ditch the memories of his treatment. For that I get as angry as humanly possible.
I don’t mean to be a downer, but once this nightmare enters your life, it doesn’t just walk away. It sets up shop for good and grinds on you.
Like I said, we’re two years on now. It’s a marker of sorts, but mostly just a marker in time.