July 12, 2016, 10:13 p.m.
To be fair, it's really more like Aila and Wampa go to the camp that Zander's already been going to. But nevertheless...our little baby girl play played among other little people her age! Not an IV pole nor a child life specialist in sight! She played Ring Around the Rosey and freeze tag and parachute and play-doh, and (according to Wampa) she held her own, hanging back when there were games involving too much running, since she's still very unsteady during quick movement. A little camp never hurt a Wampa, and after about an hour of sitting on Wampa's lap, Aila ran off with the other kids. So he came home with a detailed report of a happy morning, and we breathed a sigh of relief. She had refused camp on Monday morning for reasons that she couldn't articulate. After Zander reported having Monday fun, she tentatively agreed to get up and go on Tuesday morning, but became unruly and obstreperous when she woke up today. "I no wanna go to camp! NO! No No No!" We decided for her, whisking her from the bed and into the car seat, hoping that she would eventually settle down. Later tonight, after we returned from work, she told us that she had had a good time and that she "liked Zander's friends." Since she's been in relative isolation for so long, she assumes that all other little kids must be friends of Zander's, since she knows that she has had little opportunity to make many of her own.
Hang in there, Sissy, the tide is a'turnin! Next week we've got a spinal tap, an infusion, and another round of dexamethasone in our queue, so camp may be temporarily on hold. But make no mistake, there are camps and preschool and other "regular kid" activities in your near future. Mark your mother's word. I admit that your family is still stuck in that neverworld of guessing where cancer ends and life begins. After all, cancer is not over, not at all. But life, especially the life of little people like you, carries on at the speed of sound, it often seems. And we must move with you if we're going to be any kind of parents at all, supporting you at camp and beyond. As adults, we're of course saddled with the reality of your leukemia, the losses of the last year and those to come, and the very real possibility of relapse. (We're truly exhausted, too, almost a year in.) But if you could see our faces when you giggle, as you ride your new and shiny tricycle (prescribed by the "walking doctor" to build leg strength). Or better yet, if you could somehow touch and understand the joy in our hearts and souls, during these non-steroid weeks, when we hear you giggle wildly alongside Zander at some silly thing that Decky has done. I imagine it will be this intermittent joy and laughter that will somehow sustain us until the bitter end, whenever that will be.
This blog is for you, Aila, if and when you ever want to read it and understand your strength when you grow up. It's for your brothers, your father, your grandfather, and your mother, so that we remember just how strong we can be when love and life are in the balance. But it's also for the many other lonely families with cancer, who (if they're anything like we) need a reminder now and again of just how awful this is, just how much they have endured, but just how strong they are. And strong doesn't mean perfect, only getting up the next day and moving onward.
And for the (universe's) record, Trinidad is still alive, thirteen months after he was given two more to live because of his own version of cancer. He's sitting on the bed beside me, uniquely uninterested in anything but bologna. Cancer? What cancer?
Comments
Angela Tana 8 years, 4 months ago
That's wonderful news. She will continue to get better and improve.
Link | ReplyNatalie Whiteford 8 years, 4 months ago
What a happy, hopeful post...yay Trinidad, yay Aila, and yay all of you in this moment :-)
Link | ReplyChris Cosgrove 8 years, 4 months ago
Happy giggles, running, tricycles forever! YAY Team Cosgroverstreet!!!😊 Will write tomorrow on our way back to MA. Love and hugs you beautiful people.
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