As they say..

From the first days of admission, from the ER room to Room 4111 where I have officially named it "Kamp Kris" we were told it would be a rollercoaster. With that said I continue to try and find what kind of rollercoaster they speak of. Speaking for myself, I am petrified of rollercoasters. So much so, that I wouldn't spend 5.00 on Six Flags. And so I try to break down the analogy for myself. There are days like Wednesday afternoon and evening that felt like the one and only time I rode a ride at Knott's Berry Farm that took off going 50 miles and hour to flip us upside down to hit it backwards going even faster and the entire time all I could think was "I want off this fucking thing". Excuse my language but truth spoken. Moving forward to yesterday where Kali and I walked into a smiling Kris and a face so happy to see us it made me feel like any second a doctor would walk in to say this rollercoaster ride was a mistake and in we should start packing to go home. Throughout the day we heard his counts dropped lower, with the realization that Chemo is doing the poisonous job it's suppose to, but also killing the good cells. Masks were placed by the front door, and the wiping down with chlorox wipies began by me.

We were told to make absolutely sure no one travels in from any outside area especially by plane without washing, covering and keeping their distance.
Of course the three of us made the best of it. We played board games,mate good yummy foods, listened to music, and watched movies. He sat in the window sill watching the workers down below and chuckled with me about the silly things we do.

I left for home with the feeling of content as I knew the love of his life was just pulling in. She felt the same feeling as I sent her pictures throughout the day. That he was content. Happy and silly, the way we love to see Kris.

This morning his oncologist came in to give further findings. That his chromosome fault is called
Philadelphia Chromosome...
As I was trying to pack Kali for her departure Sunday he called. And he was beyond scared again.
The blood rushed from my soul and out the door. I grabbed my belongings, his freshly washed shorts and blankies and started making calls. First his doctor, and second an old friend that specialized in transplants for years.
As we spoke, she calmed my nerves and said "This is fight-able Lisa"
We later carried on about how things happen for a reason, and people come into your lives for a reason. And this life unfolds by purpose.
I am beginning to believe that some where and some how there is a reason in all of this.
We might not understand now, but perhaps maybe we will.

He is young. He is strong. And we will fight. Even when we weep and hold eachother in fear. We will get through.

I am beyond afraid of this rollercoaster. I really just want off.
But I must pull the strap tighter. And hold on for my boy.
We are in it to win it.

No stopping me now. Pray for him. Pray for my family. And pray for answers.



I am a warrior.

Big love,

This Mama Lisa