By now you have come to realize that my family's life has stopped in it's tracks and that the mundane rhythm that propels our daily lives no longer matters. What matters is that we have a young, inspiring young member of our clan in the hospital fighting for his life.
Recently, my sister and I made the 1000 km journey through the beautiful and majestic mountains to go and spend several days with our nephew. While we naively made the trek towards him, we somehow thought that we had prepared ourselves for what we were about to encounter. Let me tell you this with all certainty... nothing could or will ever prepare you for spending long days on a children's oncology unit.
We had told ourselves that we were going in with love guns blazing ready to spread love and light in every corner of our family and that entire children's ward. When we arrived into the city after a 12 hour drive, we headed straight for the Children's Hospital. We arrived just before 8pm and the hospital had clearly wound down for the night. The halls were sparse and there was a serenity about the place. It was a little bit of an out of body experience walking toward our nephew's room. I couldn't wait to get in there and wrap my arms around him, all the while, I wanted to be anywhere for any other reason than walking down that hall toward room #1160.
When we got to the room, there Sean was. Sitting up and open arms, happy to greet his aunties. We had a brief visit as he was tired and the chemo treatment of the day had really socked it to him. Both my sister and I shared some love, let Sean show us the care package that Terry Fox's sister had personally sent to him and then we were on our way back to where my brother was staying.
The next day we had an early breakfast and headed back to the hospital. Mind blowing. The difference between the day and night within those walls, really was that... day and night. This time upon our arrival, the halls were buzzing. People coming and going. Children with tubes and drips and their entourage of care givers. There were people that were just bringing their children in for the first time and sadly, heart wrenching as it is, their were parents that were leaving the hospital for the last time, without their beloved children. My sister and I are extremely close and have a bit of a sixth sense with each other... we walked into the hospital, looked at each other and nodded. We knew that we had to suck it up and bring love and much needed levity to our sweet family.
I could go on an tell you how we spent each day distracting Sean and our brother and his family with rounds of crib and other games and stories told, but really it was my sister and I who were distracted.
We learned more about composure and grace from this 14 year old nephew of ours than anyone else could have ever taught us. His courage and strength was overwhelming and his knowledge of his course of treatment was astounding. He schooled us in the ins and outs of his therapy in a way that only further solidified his status of hero in our books.
My brother and his wife taught us about coping in the face of fear and the unknown. They definately have their own unique ways of dealing with this blow that has been dealt to them but they also have a strong united front in the face of this putrid disease called cancer.
Our other nephew Quinn, he taught us that it was okay to laugh and be comical when your family is in crisis. Not only did he laugh but he brought us all to tears constantly by way of his awesome and completely hysterical comedic self. It was clear to see that comedy is his coping mechanism and really it is his gift to all of us. Laughter heals. It's just that simple.
The nurses, the friends that visited the calls that came in, all of it, everyone made such a difference in this journey. You never know how a simple phone call can change the entire course of someone's day. Or in this case, someone's journey through treatment.
What I also found incredibly interesting was how many of my brother and his wife's close friends were sort of staying away. Whether it is because they are just so sad or not sure what to say, let me say this loud and clear, when someone you know is in crisis, you do not need to know what to say. It is okay to just show up and say hello and that you just wanted to be with them. That is enough. Just your presence is the gift. It broke my heart that not more of their besties were showing up for them in their time of need. My brother, the nicest man on the planet, explains it that they are just waiting their turn to show up when it is the right time... I say show up people, it's okay to come and cry with us.
If you ever need a reminder how precious life is, spend a day at a Children's Hospital. There are a million reasons why we are blessed, but somehow seeing sick kids just puts everything into perspective real quick.
As it stands now, we really need your prayers. Please pray that my nephew Sean is healed of his cancer and that his entire body is returned to the simple mass of white light he came into this world as. We are counting on a miracle. Please be apart of that miracle through the power of prayer.
Please Pray.
love & light,
t.
Recently, my sister and I made the 1000 km journey through the beautiful and majestic mountains to go and spend several days with our nephew. While we naively made the trek towards him, we somehow thought that we had prepared ourselves for what we were about to encounter. Let me tell you this with all certainty... nothing could or will ever prepare you for spending long days on a children's oncology unit.
We had told ourselves that we were going in with love guns blazing ready to spread love and light in every corner of our family and that entire children's ward. When we arrived into the city after a 12 hour drive, we headed straight for the Children's Hospital. We arrived just before 8pm and the hospital had clearly wound down for the night. The halls were sparse and there was a serenity about the place. It was a little bit of an out of body experience walking toward our nephew's room. I couldn't wait to get in there and wrap my arms around him, all the while, I wanted to be anywhere for any other reason than walking down that hall toward room #1160.
When we got to the room, there Sean was. Sitting up and open arms, happy to greet his aunties. We had a brief visit as he was tired and the chemo treatment of the day had really socked it to him. Both my sister and I shared some love, let Sean show us the care package that Terry Fox's sister had personally sent to him and then we were on our way back to where my brother was staying.
The next day we had an early breakfast and headed back to the hospital. Mind blowing. The difference between the day and night within those walls, really was that... day and night. This time upon our arrival, the halls were buzzing. People coming and going. Children with tubes and drips and their entourage of care givers. There were people that were just bringing their children in for the first time and sadly, heart wrenching as it is, their were parents that were leaving the hospital for the last time, without their beloved children. My sister and I are extremely close and have a bit of a sixth sense with each other... we walked into the hospital, looked at each other and nodded. We knew that we had to suck it up and bring love and much needed levity to our sweet family.
I could go on an tell you how we spent each day distracting Sean and our brother and his family with rounds of crib and other games and stories told, but really it was my sister and I who were distracted.
We learned more about composure and grace from this 14 year old nephew of ours than anyone else could have ever taught us. His courage and strength was overwhelming and his knowledge of his course of treatment was astounding. He schooled us in the ins and outs of his therapy in a way that only further solidified his status of hero in our books.
My brother and his wife taught us about coping in the face of fear and the unknown. They definately have their own unique ways of dealing with this blow that has been dealt to them but they also have a strong united front in the face of this putrid disease called cancer.
Our other nephew Quinn, he taught us that it was okay to laugh and be comical when your family is in crisis. Not only did he laugh but he brought us all to tears constantly by way of his awesome and completely hysterical comedic self. It was clear to see that comedy is his coping mechanism and really it is his gift to all of us. Laughter heals. It's just that simple.
The nurses, the friends that visited the calls that came in, all of it, everyone made such a difference in this journey. You never know how a simple phone call can change the entire course of someone's day. Or in this case, someone's journey through treatment.
What I also found incredibly interesting was how many of my brother and his wife's close friends were sort of staying away. Whether it is because they are just so sad or not sure what to say, let me say this loud and clear, when someone you know is in crisis, you do not need to know what to say. It is okay to just show up and say hello and that you just wanted to be with them. That is enough. Just your presence is the gift. It broke my heart that not more of their besties were showing up for them in their time of need. My brother, the nicest man on the planet, explains it that they are just waiting their turn to show up when it is the right time... I say show up people, it's okay to come and cry with us.
If you ever need a reminder how precious life is, spend a day at a Children's Hospital. There are a million reasons why we are blessed, but somehow seeing sick kids just puts everything into perspective real quick.
As it stands now, we really need your prayers. Please pray that my nephew Sean is healed of his cancer and that his entire body is returned to the simple mass of white light he came into this world as. We are counting on a miracle. Please be apart of that miracle through the power of prayer.
Please Pray.
love & light,
t.
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