Day 14: Please excuse this selfish, self-indulgent interlude

March 3, 2011 : Day 14
Today we are two weeks post transplant.

Lately, I've had quite a few people say to me, in one form or another, "Where do you get your strength?" "I don't know how you do it."

To which I sometimes reply, "I wish I knew."  There is no simple answer.

Somewhere, somehow there is this source you pull from so you can do what you need to do when your child's life is being threatened.  God, who was my co-pilot, has been handed the wheel, and I do my best to keep my hands off of it, which lifts a huge burden off of my shoulders.  If that isn't a great source of strength, I don't know what is!! I also have a literal army of people praying for Chase, William, and me.  I have incredible parents, without whom I'd be lost.  I have been blessed with so many giving so much support it's humbling.

However, I most certainly can get tapped out from time to time.  To say the past ten days has been difficult, is a mammoth understatement.  But "difficult" will have to suffice.  Right now what little portion of my brain that is still capable of lucid thought simply cannot conjure up a more descriptive word or words.  Yes, I could simply open a new tab and search for synonyms, but honestly, I don't have the energy.

Truthfully? I don't want to.

I've pledged not to fall of the face of the social networking planet again.  I've pledged to keep everyone updated, and I don't want to go back on either one.  But I'm coming close to doing that right now.  I'm feeling myself turning inward.  Self-preservation.  I've been typing a little bit each day, but for some reason I don't finish a post adequately enough for publishing.  I'm letting myself get distracted by other things.  Scratch that.  I want to be distracted. I want to think about other things.  I want to put this to rest. THIS sucked the life out of me once before - practically.  I don't want THIS to take me THERE again.

All I want to do is get into my bed - MY bed, in MY home and sleep.  Perhaps for days.  Chase has been sleeping 20 to 23 hours a day.  I find myself watching him, wishing I could do the same.

Quiet solitude.  

I am so looking forward to the day - in the future, of course - when I can have the luxury of taking a day of solitude for myself.  No errands to do.  No appointments.  No obligations.  No worries about what is being sacrificed in the name of "self".

As I write this, it sounds selfish.  I'm sorry.

Actually, probably not as sorry 

as I should feel.  

We've been at this for almost two years, without much of a break between relapses.  Even then, there was no real recovery time.  Nothing restorative to recharge the batteries.

"Normal" life duties and other issues were calling and couldn't be ignored.

I just got this picture in my head of a ping-pong ball called "RECOVERY"being batted back & forth between two paddles; "LEUKEMIA" and "DIVORCE".

I just really want to scream: "PUT THE PADDLES DOWN!"

Well, at least the game isn't as nerve-wracking of a nail biter it once was.  The "divorce" paddle or rather "post-divorce" sees little to no action.  If I even suspect movement on its part, I keep reminding myself, it's no longer a player.

And leukemia? Right now it bounces the ball on the paddle.  It used to do so mockingly, but not quite so much these days.  The height and energy behind the bounces varies from day to day, but overall I can feel it's growing weaker.  In fact, if I look carefully enough...the paddle is wavering.

Here me now you vicious disease!  

THIS IS YOUR WARNING:

You will have NO other opponents to face once it's your turn to bat the ball back. I plan on doing my level best to build a HUGE...GINORMOUS cushion on the other side of that net on which the ball will comfortably rest.  And when the ball is is out of your court.  Your paddle is being incinerated.  For good!

So, please forgive my rambling.  Sometimes it just helps to get it out! 

Thank you as always and God Bless!