Happy 3rd Birthday Kris! Happy Birthday to my German filled dude. The gift from "Pirana" -
This letter from his donor is super light, but if you can catch the words...they're rock solid.
Letter sent from Pirana (From Germany, this time last year....our first introduction at 2 years)
A gift you were handed from an ice chest. After a transatlantic flight, in the folded arms of a courier, to the amazing City Of Hope. Up to the 5th floor. To that first room on the right. The room that had a collage of WHO YOU WERE outside the window, displayed for the world to see.
To see the life our son was having before the monster chased your tail, and tackled you down.
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| Bill surprised me with a picnic on the beach to celebrate the news of our donor. |
These last 3 years are some of the most wildest, sweatiest, scariest, happiest, funniest (the amount of times I've seen you shit your pants, in showers, and in beds will go down in your memoir one day)
The sizes of pants you've changed, along with the style because some pants just hurt your stomach.
The amount of meds you take on the daily, sometimes dropping a few here and there, and yet the whole house just passes by them like it's lint. Dogs included.
The heaters that cover rooms, especially the bathroom because your body temp acts a little wonky some days.
The amount of marijuana you consume just to feel good, and most especially eat, will forever baffle me. Yet, I remain a big supporter of natural healing, versus more meds.
The reminders a mom sets for a forgetful son because of memory loss. Some from chemo, some from radiation, and mostly the most from...marijuana.
I just jot notes down around the house like when he was 15.
The love you have FROM and TO your dogs made this transplant chapter extra special. Especially Skipper. The love he gives to you on your toughest day can't be replaced by any human.
The doctor visits that have rattled both of our cages, and the drive home is exhausting in traffic,
yet, we feel this sense of relief from answers that we may have needed, or just venting on things that didn't or don't seem right.
The exhale the closer we arrive to home, just finding beauty in the little taco stand we love so much. Simply because that Hollywood jungle is farther out of our sight.
For the last 3 years we've sat extra close and hovered over Kris a little longer.
A journey of sorts, I wouldn't wish on any human, and yet I still offer love and help for ANYONE stepping into the journey. There's part of the discomfort in helping others that are walking into the "fire" per say, but yet there's a therapeutic part of it too.
There's no guarantee in this journey, that's for sure.
Having a loving, understanding family and a good tribe of friends that stand up next to you, or at times, lay next to you with encouraging words. It's what gets you through.
3 years.
I still walk into the pharmacy at least once a week, and by God, if I stumble across this one gal, whom we shared words (me so, more than her) we avoid one another.
Her attitude proved to me that people that work around sick people, or sick peoples families, or most delicate...(the MOM-lol) you sortakinda, need to be compassionate.
And after time and time again, you're just a bitch, well some moms let loose. And when some moms named lisa let loose, all hell breaks out.
But we've moved beyond that.
3 years.
They know my name there in that pharmacy. They know I didn't sign up for this Annual Pass, or Subscription to navigate meds like a pharmacist, and double check their work each time. In fact, I've always just been a mom that was so happy to have raised her kids, and really just wanted to enjoy watching them flourish and grow. To get married and have kids. To run off into the sunset with grandkids and not plan futures like the one we have now.
3 years.
This is our year to dig further into our relationship with Pirana, our sweet German donor.
To hug him one day. To see him and Kris stand side by side. One super dark, one pale and thin.
But BROTHERHOOD.
One way or another, this journey moves on. I pray that I can type these milestones for many, many more years to come.
I hope you count your blessings each day you wake up. Look at your kids, or call them and hear their voices.
Some people never get the chance, and some people aren't strong enough to do so.
Happy Third Birthday Kris! Your life is a gift. Your life is precious. Your life is yours, so just be you. And while you do see this mama struggle with worry, it's just because the flow of blood in a moms heart is always for them. For the rest of our lives.
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| Merkemer! |
And one big group hug to all you cancer fighters out there. May you feel less pressure some days, and more fighting skills others. May the focus stay clear, and the vanity of hair loss, weight loss, memory loss, and all the other shitballs that fall in your way, be at ease. The human spirit is tough. And you WILL and CAN get through it.
Caregivers out there... you too! One foot in front of the other.
Don't take shit in pharmacies, and most definitely check their work, because trust ME, they make mistakes too.
Not sure about something? ASK AGAIN.
And AGAIN if things still aren't clear.
Mucho love kids.
Be good this weekend....play hard, and find your best blankie....could be a wet one!
Mama Warrior Lisa
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