Courage

Some parts of this cancer journey are too difficult to talk about yet; I'm still processing them myself and often times feel like throwing up when the memories arise.

Other parts have been through the filter in my brain and come back with a message.

December 16, 2010 will always be a date that I remember. It was that morning that I was dressing Jacob and noticed the lump on his left abdomen. It was hard and large and I felt my throat tighten as I realized that something was in there. I immediately called the doctor office and they were able to get him in later that afternoon.

We went about our normal routine, even going to Jacob's speech therapy appointment that day. I remember sitting in the waiting room of speech and the thought "Better enjoy these moments before knowing" popped into my mind. I just knew it was something bad. I was jittery when we arrived home from speech so I made the kids lunch and went outside to shovel the sidewalk. I took an extra long time, scooping the snow that lay on the ground as the flakes coming down drifted around me. It was a peaceful time, the sounds around me muffled by the falling snow. It felt as though I was in a comforting cocoon.

A few hours later I dropped Joe and Becca off at my parent's house and Jacob and I continued on to the doctor's office. The doctor walked in and had Jacob lay on the exam table. He laid his hands on Jacob's abdomen where I pointed; soon after he touched it his hands held still for a moment. To me, it was sign language for "wow". I felt that he purposefully didn't look at me at that moment because I would have been able to read it on his face.

He probed and prodded and asked questions, one of them being "When was the last time he went to the bathroom?" I let out a breath of relief and thought maybe it's just impacted bowls!! but a few moments later he threw me the c bomb. "Sometimes kids get a tumor on their kidney called a Wilm's Tumor. It's the only thing that I can think it could be."

My face felt like it was on fire and the floor all of a sudden felt unsteady. I knew I was going to throw up. I whipped my coat off and sat down in one of the chairs in the room...hearing him explain Wilm's tumor but not catching a word of it as I tried to keep from throwing up or passing out (or both).

A few moments later he left the room to schedule a CT scan for the next morning. Jacob hopped off the table and sat next to me on the chairs. I smiled at him but didn't speak as I was in shell shock.

Jacob sensed my worry and tried to change the atmosphere in the room by pointing at things. "What's that?", he asked as he pointed to a diagram on the wall of blocked arteries. Next he moved to the skeleton foot on the wall "What's that?" I explained each of them to him, trying to make sure my voice didn't sound as panicky as I felt.

Jacob pointed to the picture behind us, "What does that say?". It was one of those motivational posters that you often see in offices.

"Courage", I read out loud to him.

Jacob asks, "What does that mean?"

"To be brave."

He continued on around the room asking what this or that was. He came back to the poster two or three more times. Each time he asked me again what it said, and each time I responded with the answer.

That day began our journey and how fitting that the answer of how to get through it was right there in that room. "Courage". Jacob has had more courage throughout this journey than I could ever muster. He has taught me the true meaning of courage. Big things truly do come in small packages!