Tomorrow morning, we will leave the house at 7:30am and begin a chain of events that will lead... somewhere. They will do a surgical ultrasound in the morning, on the off chance that the spots on his liver have disappeared, and then surgically remove them in an invasive procedure. He will likely spend a day or two in intensive care (my prediction) before being returned to the oncology floor. We will begin another process of healing and rehabilitation before beginning another chemo regimen, his third.
It has been a wonderful 11 days since The Boy was released from the hospital. We have rested, played, snuggled, laughed, cried, yelled, wrestled, tackled, chased, been chased by, walked, drummed, and otherwise done everything we could think of doing. Including a lot of nothing. While we've had some drama, it has been relatively peaceful.
I don't know what it will be like, 24 hours from now. Tomorrow's surgery is dangerous; not moreso than any other surgery, but this isn't exactly getting your tonsils out. I'm scared for him, scared for me, and scared for my wife. My family will be different after the surgery; I jus can't predict how.
I hope, my friends, that you find comfort in God. If so, please pray for us. I wish that I found solice in prayer. Right now, all I feel is anger, rejection, and questions. I wonder how and why a loving God could do this to such a beautiful, smart, loving little boy. I wonder how God could do this to my wife, a caring, giving, wonderful lady. I wonder how a loving God could do this to me - not really beautiful, somewhat above average intelligent, slightly more caring than many people.
Don't forget that comments of "God only gives us what we can handle" will result in a kick to the jimmies.
We will go to the hospital, wait in a waiting room, wait in a preop room, then hold my son's hand until he gets knocked out. Then, we go and wait.
Wish us luck.
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