It is that time once again.
The last time I sat in this chair I was flying solo. It’s not bad to be alone. There is always such a long wait between blood work and my oncologist’s appointment. And I must confess that I do have a bit of anxiety as there is a risk that chemo will be delayed if my white blood counts are too low… I just want to get chemo # 4 over with. But being alone allows me to write a post and reflect on my life. Reflecting tends to put things into perspective for me and slows my life down as it tends to race by if I am not paying attention. Summer is a busy time with a lot of potential “projects” to complete during my manic phase – or should I say “begin” during my manic phase? (I tend to start many things and get distracted before I finish.)
This time, I’m not alone. David woke up early, got dressed and was ready to come with me to my pre-chemo appointment. I was surprised, somewhat, to see him up and ready. He is a very thoughtful young man and is inclined to empathize with people readily.
“David, why are you up so early?” I inquired of him.
“I didn’t want you to be alone today, Mom. No one should be alone at the hospital.”
What a guy.
“Oh, David,” I carried on, “I’m okay. It will be a very long day for you.”
“That’s okay, Mom. I’ll be with you.”
And that was that. How could I turn him down? That would just be rude. Right? So, now, here we sit. He is sipping his Jugo Juice (he bought) and I am sipping my coffee (he bought that too). He is playing an on-line game on his computer and I am writing this post. We share a glance at one another every once in a while – just enough to stay connected.
He already made an impression on Sherry. Sherry and I tend to have the same chemo schedule. She and her hubby are here more often, I think, but it seems that we are on the same calendar in terms of treatments. And we are, well, chemo-buddies? (If that’s a thing). “How nice that you have your son with you,” Sherry commented.
“Yes – he didn’t want me to be alone and everyone else is working today.”
“How thoughtful. My kids are still sleeping.” My chemo – buddy and I smiled. Teens. Her children are younger and we both know what summer means when you are a kid.
At least, I know what summer means to most kids. To David, however, this summer will mean something else. We enjoyed ourselves immensely last week-end when we spent time with friends at their cottage. I was thrilled to see David be a “kid” again. He was given the opportunity to swim, use the ATV, he learned how to split wood with a wood-splitter, and he learned how to shoot an air gun. He danced, ran, and simply had fun. The week-end was a gift to me – to see David not worry about me – to see David have fun – to see David be a kid.
Because he is not a kid right now. He has put on his big-boy pants to take care of his old Mom. It happened on our ride back from the cottage. “Mom, how are you feeling?”
“I’m fine. I had a great time this week-end. Why do you ask?”
“I know this is a long drive and that you don’t always sleep well. I want you to be healthy. I don’t want to lose you.”
“Oh, buddy, I’m good. I have good quality of life and I am hopeful. And that’s all anyone can ask for.”
Seconds later, he and I were singing to one of Rhianna’s new songs. Neither one of us knew the words other than, “work, work, work, work, work”. So – we made up the rest and we laughed at how it sounded. One second, David is an adult with the cares of an adult and the next he is a kid. I’d like him to be a kid more often, but I’m not sure it is in his nature. He has always been older than his age. He is, if there is such a thing, and old soul.
No. I am not alone. Today, I am not flying solo. I have my David – and I am hoping that with today’s news (whatever it is) he can spend the day as a kid!