In a few hours, we will be in clinic for a CBC, physical exam, chemo infusion and another round of steroids.
Justin is afraid. I am not. But something keeps me awake into the wee hours.
The IV placement is generally quick and the pain brief. But, somehow, what occurs in the vibrantly painted “jungle room”, can undo weeks of strategic, toilsome parenting to implement routines, disciplines and daily structure.
That telling scent of rubbing alcohol and what comes with it. Being held down and stabbed with a needle, sometimes repeatedly, can undo what lies beneath Justin’s non-compliance to routines, disciplines and structures.
The undoing of trust.
A trust I spend all month rebuilding. Subsequent behavior problems, social anxiety and post-traumatic stress finally get sorted out with loads of proper attention and tedious care.
Then we begin all over again.
This is Day 562, and I will compare it to a 1,000 piece puzzle sitting unfinished on my coffee table.
If I try to take in the whole lot of it, completing the puzzle becomes entirely too overwhelming. It is much more manageable to center my mind on building it just one piece at a time.
An almost constant pain, traveling the length of my spine and piercing the skull, is sharper now. Yet I look to His grace that I know will come and, indeed, is already here.
You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book? Then my enemies will turn back in the day when I call. This I know, that God is for me. In God, whose word I praise, in the Lord, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I shall not be afraid. Psalm 56:8-11