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| Ro & Maya |
I've been reading a
blog written by a mom who lost her 3-year-old to cancer last year. I've been up reading it in the middle of the night when my sinuses won't let me sleep. It, like other things, is making me very grateful for what we didn't have to endure. I feel for all the other parents who end up in the ER with their child for something innocent enough, only to be thrust into the whirlwind of scans and doctors and being told you're not going home today. It really is dizzying. But after those first few days of wrapping our heads around what was going on and what we needed to do, it really was so simple. Sure, the nights where Simon was angry and had a hard time sleeping wore mighty thin. I threw myself a great pity party. I had no idea.
We never spent more than a week in the hospital, not after that first stint. I think the greatest blessing we had I never had a clue was a blessing. We never had to share a room. TCH has only private rooms, at least on the floors we were on. From what I'm seeing now that is not the norm. I can't imagine having to go through that hell and not have my own private space. And the stories of sharing rooms with mere babies and even older children being left in the rooms with only nurses to look after them for many hours or even days is too much. We never had to worry about what the right course of treatment was for Simon. We didn't have to travel across the country or even across the state. We drove a half hour into the Med Center. And so far we haven't had to sit across from a doctor who is avoiding our eyes with tears in their eyes as they tell us what no parent wants to hear.
Maybe I should have questioned more. Maybe, but I don't think so. I hope not. But I also hope we never lose our appreciation for everything about Simon and his bravery and that we're lucky things didn't end up different.
