Reality Starts to Set In

Disclaimer - if you're not in a mood for a tear-jerker, skip this entry. . .

The reality of Isabella's cancer is starting to sink in.

A short time after her surgery, I had gone to one of the school assemblies to see Annalise's class sing. I saw Mrs. Stelly's kindergarten class and actually scanned the group to see if I could find Isabella even though I knew she could not possibly be there. A couple of weeks ago I was waiting to get Annalise at the bus stop, and while watching about a dozen kids unload, I envisioned Isabella climbing out, too. Then suddenly there were no more kids and the doors shut and the bus drove off and I had to admit that she really was in the hospital.

I have finally stopped trying to find Isabella in her bed when I wake up in the morning so that I can tell myself everything's OK, it was just a really, really bad dream.

I am a member of this on-line support group for parents of kids with brain cancer. People offer some really good advice on everything from sibling care to meds to new protocols that they've found. Normal, non-medical people discuss medication side effects, dosages of radiation, and the latest research studies they've come across in their desperate search to find something else to try. I'm getting used to the "lingo" - people often sign their names with "mother of (name), ___ years old, diagnosed (date) w/ (cancer type), chemo (dates), radiation (dates), recurrence (dates), now on (meds/ protocol)." Or if they have lost their child they say, "mother to Angel (name), forever 11." Or forever 3, or forever 17. Then I suppose most move on to the bereavement support group.

Every once in a while there's a post that someone's child just lost their battle. One that really upset me happened a few days ago. Her boy was in 5th grade and I didn't know them personally, but just found out he was treated at NYU also. She wrote, "As difficult as the last two years have been for Jacob, the end was peaceful. Lying between us as we recounted stories and sang to him, Jacob just went to sleep. Pain free. At home." I still cry every time I read this. I told Roneil I wouldn't have any stories to tell. I wouldn't be able to sing if I knew he was dying. I COULD NOT GET THROUGH THIS. My mind starts to wander, and I think, what did she do with her 6 year old son during all of this? When does she call someone to take the body? And then my mind screams, "Stop thinking about this! This will not happen. This CANNOT happen!"

One of the moms created a "Wall of Courage" that she displayed at a local "Relay for Life" event. She just created a virtual version of it to circulate around:

http://heidster.com/relay_2008/virtual_wall/

Watch the video - you should see these beautiful children. The author included that, "Unfortunately, there are a number of children that have since become angels as this wall was created in May of '08. Please feel free to circulate and share this link."

When I do literature or internet searches on Isabella's type of tumor (I can't seem to stop myself from doing this), the information is so dismal. I try to cling to the one sentence that talks about the occasional exception - there are a few reports of children surviving.

Why did this have to happen to my precious Isabella? She never did anything wrong. She is a good and kind and smart and funny and friendly and lovable girl. No one could ever deserve anything like this. No one should ever have to go through this.

I cannot lose her. I would not be able to go on.

I am having a very difficult time.