Friday, June 6, 2008

Entry #4: Cancer - Casey

Casey
By Stephanie Craig


I tried to get Casey to fall asleep, but he could not. He was just as scared as I was. The white, sterile walls brought no comfort as I looked around the room for a clock. It was after midnight.

“Happy Birthday Baby,” I whispered into my son’s ear. My now 2-year-old son grabbed me tighter as I, again, tried to rock him to sleep. My tears were getting his hair wet, but I could not stop them from coming. His face was buried in my chest and I noticed him trembling. He was crying too.

The doctor came back into the room with the blood test results. “Leukemia,” he said. I tried to listen as he did his best to comfort me with statistics and stories of hope. But all my mind would hear is “Cancer.” My 2-year-old boy had cancer.

The doctor was interrupted by nurses coming into to take more blood and do another set of vital signs. I was relieved because I did not want to hear from the doctor anymore that night. But the relief was short lived when I saw the fear in my son’s eyes. He had already been poked and prodded too many times to count in the previous 12 hours. Now they wanted more, and he was not ready to give into them. The nurses had to physically restrain him as they did the blood draw and got his vital signs.

Casey was trying to fight them even more under restraint. His head was thrashing around and he was screaming, until he saw me. “Momma,” he called and he looked into my eyes. His two-year-old brain could not form the words, but his eyes could communicate them to me. I’m scared. Why won’t you stop this?

When the nurses left, I was able to hold him again. As I cuddled him, I whispered, “I’m sorry baby boy. I’d take it away if I could, but I can’t. I’ll be here the whole time, holding you. When it’s done, you will be a better, stronger boy.” The words must have comforted him because he fell into a deep sleep, not even awakened when his daddy came into the room.

Sleep would not come for me as I wrestled with the emotions and questions I did not know how to ask. I looked to God, but no prayer could form on my lips. It was then that the Lord said to me, “I’m sorry dear child. I’d take it away if I could, but I can’t. I’ll be here the whole time, holding you. When it’s done, you will be a better, stronger person.” I felt his arm around me, and I finally fell asleep.


Submitted by
Stephanie Craig

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Stephanie,
I'm sorry about your son's diagnosis. However, you are right. God will make you a stronger better person.
Love & Prayers,
Yvonne Ortega
Hope for the Journey through Cancer