Monday, December 17, 2007

Hope's Accomplice

There is a distinctly different sound when the shower water hits a shaved head rather than one with hair. I took notice of it for the first time this morning - it sounds like muted static.

I've spent the last few days trying to sort out my feelings. Why do I feel so dour even when things are going well? I found it easier to laugh when we had small breaks during really difficult times, than to be constantly reminded of our reality during easy times. It's almost as if there's time to be sad. Anyway, the neutral static was welcome.

These last few days have been really good for Henry. He's played and been happy. He's begun to take his medicines easily so really there are no struggles right now for him. I've noticed though a tightening around my heart though that will not leave me. I've tried my normal mood elevators - running, resting, a good soccer game on TV, a good nights sleep. There's a level of unease that is omnipresent. Its begun to make me irritable. I've had greater difficulty sleeping. It will not leave me.

Henry's MRI is pending just before New Year's. This will tell us how the chemotherapy is working so far. If the cancer is responding, then we commence with the high-dose chemotherapy. While we're not looking forward to it, the alternative is unthinkable.

I've been reticent to hope. Not because I have a pessimistic outlook on things, but because to hope is to not be present here and now. To hope is to be looking to the future of what might be, instead of what is. Implicit in hope is the aversion to the negative outcome as you wish for the positive one. Hope's accomplice is fear.

5 comments:

Granya said...

Bryan,

Again you have said it all so well. There is just nothing else to add except that you and Tara are doing all you can, all that anyone could do, to live this tragedy with such courage and grace.

We all await the MRI results with you and will support you as we can.

Love, Jane

Anonymous said...

Bryan and Tara, Most of us who read your blog, have never been in the situation that you are in. We might have had kids that were sick, either medically or emotionally; but nothing like the unknown and waiting that you and your family are going through.
The only thing I can offer is my continued prayers- at times that sounds so very lame, yet also so very powerful.
nk

Anonymous said...

We love you guys so much and are sensitive to the paradox of this dilemma. I will pray that each of you live in the present with restful hearts and minds. Your friends and family are so proud of your strength and courage as you carry this burden. You are not alone though, as the most important thoughts and prayers we are all having right now are about each one of you. Love, Josh and family.

Anonymous said...

Once you choose hope, anything's possible. ~Christopher Reeve

Anonymous said...

My friend Diane always reminds me that you take care of tomorrow by taking care of today. And your todays are filled with loving care of Henry. Beyond hope, there is belief - the calming knowledge that you know all will be well, that by seeking medical care you are believing that Henry will be healed. You are taking care of today. Believe in tomorrow. With love - MAB