Wednesday, March 14, 2012
I spent last night at the hospital with Drew.
We came yesterday to start round 11 of chemo.
It was another long day with general anesthesia for his regularly scheduled MRI and lumbar puncture, but the day went smoothly. They got us in right on time and had him in by 11am and he was out just before 1pm. Then he slept it off until 3:30pm.
Recovering from anesthesia all wrapped up like a little cocoon.
He woke up hungry and ate 4 bowls of cereal and was in a good mood happy to play with his new Star Wars Fighter Pods.
It is really amazing how smooth things go and how quick he is to cooperate for something that he has really had his eye on. And I have learned to always have that something on hand! It is so worth it for everyone involved.
Since he slept most of the day, we were up late watching TV and playing, when it hit me that it was exactly 9 months ago that he and I were up late spending our first night in the hospital waiting for that first MRI. It was 9 months ago this morning that we found out that Drew had a brain tumor.
What a different place we are in 9 months later. His MRI yesterday looked good. But I'm not only talking about how different things are physically or health wise. We are changed people. Our perspective on life is changed. We have seen and experienced things that most people don't even know exist. We have been exposed to a world that seems to exist as its own entity behind these closed walls with so much pain, suffering, and sorrow...but also with so much joy, happiness, and laughter. Through this experience we have grown and understand completely, how truly precious life is.
I came across this story and thought it was very fitting for the life we now live:
When you’re going to have a baby, it’s like planning a fabulous vacation trip to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. You plan to see the Coliseum, the Sistine Chapel, the Gondolas. You learn some handy phrases in Italian and it’s all very exciting. After several months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go.
Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes aboard and says, “Welcome to Holland!”
“Holland?” you say. “What do you mean, Holland? I signed up for Italy. I’m supposed to be in Italy. All my life I’ve dreamed of going to Italy.” But there’s been a change in the flight plan and here you've landed in Holland and Holland is where you must stay.
The important thing is that they haven’t taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place full of pestilence, famine, and disease. It’s just a different place. So, you must go out and buy new guidebooks. You must learn a whole new language. You will meet a whole new group of people you would have never met. It’s just a different place. It’s slower paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you’ve been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around. You begin to notice that Holland has windmills. Holland has tulips. And Holland even has Rembrandts. But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy, and they’re all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life you will say, “Yes, that’s where I was supposed to go. That’s what I had planned.” And the pain of that experience will never, ever go away. The loss of that dream is a very significant loss. But if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn’t get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things about Holland.
Life is about making the most with what you have been given and finding a way to be happy doing it!
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