It’s been three years now since my oldest son, Hunter, had his life-saving bone marrow transplant which seems to have cured him from leukemia. Three years. It seems like a life time ago in all honesty. I’m not sure why I feel the need to keep writing about it. But I do. I can’t help it. Maybe because I figure someone might stumble upon my blog and need reassurance that three years later, the bone marrow transplant is a distant memory.
Most of the time, it is.
We recently attended a retreat for families of children who have or have had leukemia. The illness was such a thing of the past that it didn’t even seem to pertain to us. Leukemia is no longer what we think about day in and day out. Now, instead, we are dealing with the aftermath.
The learning differences.
The emotional breakdowns (both his and mine).
The memories that will literally pop up out of no where and take my breath away.
There is still so much we don’t know about Hunter’s condition. We don’t know if he’s sterile yet. We don’t know if he’ll end up with secondary conditions as a result of his treatments. We don’t know how his academic performance will be made more and more difficult as his school work becomes more challenging. And we just learned at his three year check up that we don’t even know if his heart is functioning appropriately.
What I do know is that three years later, in many ways, I’m less hopeful. Less grateful. Less optimistic. I know how this sounds. I sound like one of those people you would like to throttle. I didn’t lose my son to cancer. I didn’t suffer the unthinkable. He’s here. He’s relatively healthy. He’s doing okay.
But after three years of watching him fight, suffer, try multiple medications,
lose friends, be bullied, be ignored, cry, break down, go from counselor to counselor, and in general live a miserable existence, I’ve grown a bit jaded.
So, I’m here to tell you that three years later, it still hurts. I’m still scared as hell. I’m exhausted. And I’m starting to think that there is no hope. I wish that wasn’t the case but it’s the truth. It’s my truth. And, well, I hate putting such negativity out there but dammit, I’m tired. I’m sad. And I’m not sure if there is any chance that I won’t be tired and sad ever again. At least when it comes to my son.
It just sucks.
Can’t imagine what it’s like for him.