We knew he'd become sicker.
We knew he'd feel so terrible that nothing we could hand him, or put in front of him would make this mess cleaner.
Because this fight is something you can't explain, unless you're unfortunate enough to have been through it.
Or still walking through it. It's not good. Or easy.
This week included lots of bad nights. Terrible days.
A body weak from so much chemo. A body that couldn't sit up without puking.
Two parents that do anything and everything we can to help him. Transporting him delicately like a feather.
Holding the steering wheel, all along thinking what the fuck, and why does he have to go through this. Why.
I've never ever in my life witnessed my birdie so weak.
But each drop on this rollercoaster I continue to pray. To believe in him. In medicine. In doctors.
Waiting for a match call. For our next page in this horrible chapter.
This week was not good.
Counts are too low. Food is an enemy to his body. But he is fighting.
I hope you all have a good weekend doing what makes you feel good.
For us, it will be loving on our baby. Whatever he wants. Like this morning he ate a few bites of biscuits and gravy. Silver linings.
Peace to you and yours,
This Mama Warrior Lisa
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