Everything is Different

It was a difficult day today.

It seemed like it should be a typical day, and Patrick and I were both looking forward to it. No tests, no doctors, no chemo, no hospital. He went to work this morning and I stayed home to do the mommy thing. We were hoping for some routine, for a taste of normal. But while "normal" as we remember it still feels freshly etched in our minds...the truth is...it is long gone and will never return. I am trying to jump back in...to face forward, ready to tackle what is coming our way, but honestly, I am just not there yet. I liked what we had before, loved it actually. It is going to take some time to let go. I don't want to let go.

Everything is different now. Sleep is elusive. On those evenings when I do manage to get some rest, I dread the moment I wake up, because for a brief second, I am happy...and then the sorrow floods back in, the fear, the heartache. My child, who just weeks ago was playing sports, is now in a leg immobilizer and completely worn out from the effects of chemo. She needs help getting showered and help getting dressed. Exercise, grocery shopping, errands, phone calls...things I do to feel like we have a routine...are not getting done. There are so many doctors appointments...all of the time. I took Bailey to school this morning, but instead of dropping her off and watching her run into the building...I pushed her wheelchair. We have people bringing food. We have helpers in our house all of the time. We have kids in our room at night because they are sad or scared or just needing some extra love. We have fear in our hearts about what is next...what does the future hold? We are trying to juggle homework and sports and other kids...and cancer. Nothing is the same. The days are long and tiring and the evenings are dark and scary.

I had hoped that today would bring some familiarity of routine...that some sense of comfort would come from a day spent back in "our" life. And while I was thankful for a day with no doctors or hospitals, it didn't appear that there was any comfort to be found because the life we knew...is gone. I was thinking that maybe it was just me, and that I am was having my own little pitty party as I wrestle with this. However, Patrick came home this evening to report a similar experience at work. Expecting more normal...and finding really, that so much has changed. There is not a piece of our lives that can't feel the trickle down of cancer...it has run into every crevice of our being. There are so many unknowns. There are so many difficult decisions to make. There is so much despair. I'm not sure what else I should say. I was hoping that some routine would bring comfort, but it didn't. What we have now has so little resemblance to what we had then...I think we are basically starting over.
So, an additional post with no answers. Just another challenging day and we covet your prayers.


Allison Albini said...

Praying mama.

Tara and Julian said...

Oh Tiff, when you said that Bailey was sick, I had no idea.(by the way, I don't know how I missed it that you had a Bailey too! duh. We love that name!) I have been so caught up in self and my own selfish pity party on occasion and struggling with my new normal, but you are helping me see how ridiculous I have been. No words will help and I don't want to preach. But will say that you are one of the strongest people I know, always have been, and you will conquer this too. I love you and praying for your family!

Julie said...

Hey Tiffany,

I love your authentic heart, and I am praying for your family.