Ronan is mad today. He keeps peeking at me with his one little eye that can open and I know what he is thinking. He won’t really talk to me. Gets mad if I talk to him and is fighting me on everything we do. I did get him to walk a little bit. Woody, a nurse and I took him out of the room and down the hallway to look at a pond and some trains. He didn’t say much of anything but we talked to him the whole time while he watched the train and fish as best as he could. I about lost it right then and there. In fact I did. It was the absolute saddest thing I have ever seen in my life. My beautiful baby, all bandaged up with his left eye swollen shut and his right eye hardly open. The nurse was trying to be strong for us, but I saw the tears pouring out of her eyes. So, today I am weak. But Woody is strong. He is holding me up with his amazing strength and words. I feel like shutting the world out, but I know I cannot. I need the strength from everyone who is supporting us. I cannot fight this alone and cannot shut down. Chin up, and boot straps buckled. United together we WILL get him through this!
Ronan was really restless most of the night. Lots of tossing and turning and seemed to be in a little more pain. They have taken him off of morphine because he is allergic to it. Having a hard time keeping him comfortable and quiet. I dozed off at one point and woke up to him sitting up and he had unwrapped his entire head. He had taken off the all of the bandaids and even the tight netting. He is wanting to feel his swollen eye and head and asking what happened. I’m doing my best to explain things to him and trying to tell him that he has to listen to me and not fight me on everything. Such a stubborn little guy. I have no idea where he gets that from;)
He drank a little sprite, ate some goldfish and wants to do everything by himself. Whenever I try to help him he says, “Stop, mom! I’ll do it!” He is sounding more like a 16 year old, not a 3 year old. We don’t have any tests scheduled today. We may be moved out of the PICU and up to floor number 2. Hoping he’ll rest well today and settle down a bit. He needs to heal as much as possible before we start the chemotherapy.
Nights are the worst. It is during this time that my fighting mind, body, and soul want to shut down. Reality sets in, and everything slowly starts to seep in. While in the presence of Ronan, I always keep the positive vibes and thoughts going. It is sitting alone in a cafeteria, while trying to muster up some sort of an appetite that the evilness of this situation steps in and wants to take over. I am strong and push these thoughts out of my head. I have no choice. To be any other way would not be fair to Ronan. He needs me to fight 24/7 for him. And I do, even in my sleep. I will fight for my beautiful “Brad Pitt baby,” until we beat the shit out of cancer.
I thought about keeping this blog all business with only my positive, upbeat attitude. But I can’t do that. The darkside of what I am feeling and going through is real and painful. I need to be vocal about this and I need an outlet. This is me, this is real, there is no sugar-coating anything. I am going to scream, cry, cuss, and yell. This is my reality, this is my hell.