T-6

Hello from beautiful Duarte, Ca. A city that holds the best hospital for people fighting the fight in cancer. A place that holds face masks and gloves on every corner and a place where bald heads and wheelchairs are more populated than any other.
We just got back into his room after his 8th round of radiation. These rounds for HIM have included breaks to puke, and looks at me that say mom I don't think I can stand through this one. And yet he does. He smiles as he has to, and lays his head to the little side pillow mama makes to and from.  We run into the same two other patients that are in the same fight. Same plan. Same weakness. Same bald heads. Same parents staring at eachother with HOPE.

He has oboe had two bites of soup since tunes a and has no desire for more. I've ordered smoothies and juices. I've popped small cans of ginger ale with hopes that will help. It doesn't.
His body is red. His mouth becoming puffy and frothy from these treatments. They hit them hard and they hit them aggressively to knock out HIS marrow and stems system to try and welcome the new.
We will head back down one more time today. And two more times tmrw. He will receive the dynamite chemo on Saturday and within two days drop down the lowest a body can drop.
Next Wednesday his new life and new stems will make their way in.
I pray for our donor today. I pray for the transportation to fly it here.

I sit in the corner of this safe, warm but scary room and stare at his body. The body I birthed. I smile at him when he wakes. I remind him of how far he's come and the finish line. He said to me today while down in radiation, four words that melt me. I love you Mom.

I told him he's the reason I wake. He's the reason I've already made my path around here. He's the reason I have become a warrior.  To and from every single treatment. I stand by his side.

To all of my friends who've reached out to me, thank you. For my family especially my sister that grabbed the bull by the fucking balls and stands up where we've never had the maternal support. To his amazing girlfriend that pulls a recliner CHAIR out every single night and sleeps next to him. Fulfilling a part of life in love that a mom can't. That love moral support you get from your partner.
To my cousin Monica that sent him a goodie box a month ago filled with cozy flannels and socks. Socks that I helped him put on yesterday after a shower and couldn't help but crack up because when he was little socks were a big deal if the "line" didn't go up and over his toes. And these socks did. And so we laughed. He loves them. To neighbor friends Erica that dropped soup this morning and a spiritual book that enlightens me when I am weak and a crybaby.
To Kali that sits here when she can and now only covers her ears as he pukes instead of run.
To all of you who are praying. (Whoa spell check changed that to party the first time around...ya that too) but wait until he's gone over the 100 day mark.

3 more intense days of treatment. Lots more days change. And count drops. And lowest of low days.

But we are here kids. In the place where my heart and family holds all of its hope.

Big love to you,
This warrior mama lisa