Health & Happiness: Don't Take it for Granted

What a weekend--sunny days and plans for being outside and celebrating with friends. And then, in the span of a phone call, utter speechlessness over the unfairness of life.

We're one week down and one to go with Chase's camp experience. It's been tough as hell to be away from him, to have no communication other than the written letter. I've sent him several; I've received two, amazingly. But not seeing him or even hearing his voice...now that's hard. It's been a smack of reality, what life would be like if we had no children. And I don't like it a bit. Even worse, since I know I do have a child and I know how he looks, his personality, his quirks and mannerisms, being completely without him now offers some tiny understanding of what it would be like to have and then lose a child. And that has always been what I consider the most horrific of all life experiences. Thank God, Thank God, Thank God that is not my situation. And then, in the midst of thanking my stars that my child is merely three hours away, safe and sound, my close friend Tracy has found out that her one year old niece is most likely dying.

Abigail had a basic childhood cold about nine months ago; it was persistent and, it turns out, not just a basic cold. She was diagnosed with leukemia. And not only that, but she had the far worse type, called AML. It's rare (two in 100,000 cases of leukemia are AML), it's aggressive and has a propensity to return, tough to beat. Her best chances were to receive chemotherapy and then ideally, a bone marrow transplant. Amazingly, her older sister was a perfect bone marrow match.

Months of hospital stays, ration after ration of horrible chemotherapy and the side-effects that go with it, constant fear that the disease would be stronger than the medications. She survived the chemo and a few months ago, Abigail had a bone marrow transplant, with her sister acting as her possible savior.

Everything looked good afterwards--we thanked the Lord, thanked our lucky stars, praised her older sister and believed we'd never take for granted again a healthy child.

Last Friday, a slight fever triggered the discovery of the worst: the leukemia has returned. Not even 100 days since her transplant, the doctors say this is very, very bad. There are only a couple options now, neither of which look good. They would be incredibly harsh and have such remote odds of success, they instead could actually be what ultimately steals her life. Tracy's sister and brother in law aren't sure it's worth putting their little girl through it. And if they don't, they're looking at weeks Abigail has left, a month or two, tops.

It's a tragedy beyond words, a situation that every parent places at the top of their most dreaded list. I remember a professor of mine in college talking about death. As we listened, he told us all that death was not the worse thing in the world. What, we wondered? How could it not be? "How about watching your child die? Isn't that worse that losing your own life?" Bingo, I agreed. That is indeed the worst thing life could hand you.

Do you have a child? Of any age? Hug him or her or call them if you're not nearby, be thankful because a happy, healthy life isn't a given. And there are people out there who would give anything to trade places with you. And after you hug your child, send a prayer up for little Abigail and her family.

You Think YOU'RE Tired?

I dropped Chase off at camp yesterday. So as to not dwell on my keening and the acute sense of loss I feel knowing my only child will be gone for so long, I will opt instead to share with you a great email story I just received. I loved this:

An older, tired-looking dog wandered into my yard. I could tell from his collar and well-fed belly that he had a home and was well taken care of.

He calmly came over to me, I gave him a few pats on his head; he then followed me onto my porch. Loving dogs, I let him come with me into my house, and he slowly walked down the hall, curled up in the corner and fell asleep.

An hour later, he got up, walked to my door, and I let him out.

The next day he was back, greeted me in my yard, walked inside and resumed his spot in the hall and again slept for about an hour. This continued off and on for several weeks.

Curious, one day I pinned a note to his collar: "I would like to find out who the owner of this wonderful sweet dog is and ask if you are aware that almost every afternoon your dog comes to my house for a nap."

The next day he arrived for his nap, with a different note pinned to his collar: "He lives in a home with six children, 2 under the age of 3 - he's trying to catch up on his sleep. Can I come with him tomorrow?"