A new normal
We are home now. It became a joke with the doctors that I didn’t want to leave. The hospital feels so sterile, secure, and safe. The care that Davis received was so intentional, loving, and competent. And here we are, stepping in to care for him from home as best as we can.
I can only speak for myself, but coming home felt so odd. It was similar to driving home with your newborn child. The home is the same and yet everything is different. I still struggle to articulate how it feels. It’s just…..different.
Davis has somehow made it through his first chemo treatment without any symptoms or side effects. He is in good spirits, sweet as ever, and only occasionally angry. I’m thanking God daily for this. Praise!
Lily has gone back to school. She seems to be acclimating well. I check in with her teacher often, who is sweet enough to engage my check-in’s in order to calm my spirit and worry. Lily is such a strong, compassionate, and nurturing girl. She has impressed us so much with who she is this past week.
Lance went to his doctors appointment and they decided, due to the placement of the herniated disc, to not do surgery. They suggested it is best if his body can heal on its own and referred us to a pain management center where he will receive an epidural/spinal block to relieve the pain. So we are still praying and waiting for some relief for him and his extreme back pain. He has had to adjust to not doing anything and everything he wants to physically. If any of you know Lance, this has been a rude awakening to how mortal he truly is.
And then there’s me….I feel like just today I came out of my fog. I have found myself this week walking in circles around the house. I get into a room and for the life of me can’t remember what I went in there to get. I still negotiate in my mind if last week really happened. Did my son really get diagnosed with cancer? Am I really going to take him next week to get chemotherapy? Man, life is so different. I talk to God a lot. I tell him all the ways I’m scared, upset, nervous, and overwhelmed. Sometimes I don’t want to talk to Him at all. So I don’t.
One of the hardest losses for me is the thought of my career stepping back and slowing down. I had momentum. I had dreams and hopes of where I was going as a therapist. It’s amazing the things we lose in life. No matter how much I love my job, Davis is worth the loss of any dream. It’s only temporary. God is allowing me to put my dreams aside temporarily. I’m going to try and do what I can with clients and work, but overall, it’s all come to a screeching halt.
What is God wanting to do through all this? Where is He taking us now? I can almost feel the anticipation as I ask that question, peeking from around the sadness and loss. I don’t have clarity of where we are going, but what I do know is God has something big waiting. Something big for my baby boy. There have been so many interactions with doctors and nurses where it was obvious that Davis was being a light for Jesus with them. I have seen God glorified firsthand through this experience. He continues to be our sustainer; He continues to be our foundation.