Just Another Day
So, today's the day. "Dennis" is scheduled for his annual cancer check-up. We go this afternoon.
I feel okay about it, really. Better than I did last week when I thought about it, after little Tuesday's passing. I still have some butterflies in my stomach, and I know I always will, everytime this time of year comes around.
I won't show Dennis my fear, the tornado roiling around inside of me, as we enter what used to be our second home and is now just a place we come to every month or two, but would much rather not.
Instead, I'll hold Dennis' hand as he gets his blood drawn, and as the doctor pokes and prods his belly and his glands and asks him lots of personal questions that a 10-year-old boy really would rather not answer.
And I will try not to stare when I see little children on various beds, with their baby bird bald heads and big, scared eyes, and their parents sitting there, the look of abject fear on their faces.
I will try to forget that that was once us, and hope Dennis doesn't ask too many questions about his cancer and whether he's going to be okay, because I can't even think about his fear without feeling sick to my stomach. A 10-year-old should not know about death, should not know about the fear of getting sick and never getting better.
I hate going to the hospital for these check-ups, but I'd much rather be going with a healthy child than with one who is coming in for his regular admittance and weeklong chemo treatment. And that's how I have to look at it, and remind myself that Dennis is healthy, and he's fine, and this day is just a little blip in his otherwise normal-again life.
And then I'll say a little prayer as we walk into the hospital, and hope today remains just another day.