A week. It’s been a week of sharing a room. Hospital beds. Hospital clothes. Hospital T.V. Hospital seconds/minutes/days/nights. Hospital tears. Hospital depression. Being home last night for the entire night with my twins felt so good that it hurt. I took them to breakfast this morning and we looked just like the perfect little family. Just another mom with her sons’ on a gorgeous Sunday morning, happy, smiling, laughing. Nobody in the restaurant knew the reality of my life. They didn’t know that soon my horse-drawn carriage was about to turn into a pumpkin. They didn’t know about the 3-year-old that I have with cancer who was waiting in his hospital bed for his mom to return. That’s my reality everyday and nobody knows the pain and sadness that comes with it. It hits me hard during times like this… when I get a second of my sweet life back and then have it ripped away from me once again. I fucking hate hospitals. I fucking hate RSV season. I fucking hate cancer and all the time it is stealing away from my family life. How lovely that I was able to go home last night and spend 30 minutes with my husband and try to act normal the way a husband and a wife do, but then that turns into him saying to me while looking at an old picture of our 3 boys… “I just keep thinking, did he have cancer then? Fuck. How long has he had this?” That in turn makes me cry and I get to sit and stare into my husbands eyes as he watches me cry because some days are harder than others. Today is one of those days. Do you know why my little 7-year-old who was exhausted from the days events stayed up until midnight with me last night insisting we finish watching “Talladega Nights?” He told me he didn’t want to go to sleep because he didn’t want the time with me to end. I couldn’t agree more and he is so right in the way he is feeling. Just pile that on top of the things that are ripping my heart out at the moment and smashing it on the floor.
Today, I couldn’t pull my shit together and had to have my friend, Gay, come and sit with Ronan so I could get out of the hospital for an hour and cry my freaking eyes out. The tears wouldn’t stop pouring and I thought getting out of the hospital would help; but it didn’t. It’s was one of those day. Bloody, bloody, Sunday. Sarah the Saint stayed with Liam and Quinn all day today so I could come back to the hospital and Woody could go to the office and work for the entire day. Ronan has been a handful with a lot of energy, but is still not wanting to leave his room. He keeps talking about going home and wants to know why he can’t because he says he is all better. I try my hardest to explain things to him as simply as possible but he doesn’t get it. None of this makes sense to him and it shouldn’t.
We still have our baby roommate, with no parents in sight. The nurses have been working non-stop tending to him. The second they try to put him in his crib, he starts to cry and will not stop. Poor thing. All he wants is to be held. Makes me sick to my stomach. Reminds me to be thankful. Thankful. Thankful. Thankful. Things could be so much worse. Ronan’s counts were still around 50 today. The same as yesterday. They have got to be higher tomorrow… I don’t expect a major jump, but in the low 100’s would be nice. We just want to go home. We have isolation coming up soon and this is cutting into our time with Liam, Quinn, and Woody.
I’m being rotten tonight and I know it. Time for a positive attitude adjustment. I feel better after my day of tears. Guess I just needed to clear my head and let some things out. I’m going to snuggle up with Ro now and do my favorite nighttime activity which is to watch him sleep and wonder what that sweet little soul is dreaming about. I hope only beautiful things. G’nite dear angels out there. Thank you Sarah and Gay for your help today. I don’t know what I would do without you two. Love you.