The Fear Factor

Little bit of pins and needles this week, though at the moment all seems to be well.

Daddy has been in New York, visiting Auntie Lou and family, and then on to his conference in Chicago. He left last Thursday morning and returns tomorrow, yay! Six days is a long time in the life of 9, 6, and 20 months!! Sounds like all has gone well though, minus a few hours of sleep that always get left out in these situations.

In the meantime, we've done well and are having a rather wet week in Aberdeen. The only slight concern is that Adam has been having low grade temperatures since the night before Brian left. It wouldn't be concerning except that it hasn't gone anywhere...nothing else seems out of the ordinary. He's been tired and grumpy, but you could say that for me most days of the year! However, the nurse who came today to take his bloods thought we should take him in for a full blood count, so we did. Caleb was at his friend Jacob's house, so Agnes, Adam and I went up about 4:30pm and were miraculously home by 6pm. We even had our tea and a Mr Tumble too!

I just called and the blood results were normal enough, though his neutrophils are close to the "too low" (neutropenic) level. He is due to have a lumbar puncture this Thursday, so as long as the docs are happy that will go ahead as planned. We'll see how he is tomorrow, and of course now that he has some oral antibiotics he should be fine.

My stress level has been noticeably higher the last few days, though I am reminded of the adage "You find what you are looking for." I don't want to look for Adam's leukaemia to be coming back, I don't want to even be thinking about that. I want to be so positive and strong that the option just isn't even on the table. But this isn't really about what I want.

This is about my boy, who has been a strong soldier through so much so far, and what God has for his life is unknown to me. I wish I could make everything right for him, but my prayer in this time of fear and uncertainty and doubt is that I can at least make everything safe and gentle for him, inasmuch as it's up to me.

I am probably not abnormal in saying that I am full of both fear and courage, weakness and strength, doubt and unwavering belief. I both know and don't know what I think will happen in the future, but again it doesn't matter--what happens is really immaterial, it's how you live now that matters. And Adam is a model of living wholly, every minute not as if it were his last, but as if each minute is worth his full attention. He is here now, sleeping peacefully in his bed. I am grateful for that, and for this moment as for many before to be part of his story, no matter how or when it ends or the many adventures that go along with it until that day.