Sitting Still for a Moment–

–for the first time in a very long while.

Today I did laundry (2 loads) and made the bed. I opened all the mail and balanced the checkbook.  I ran a few places where errands demanded  and did some of the work that keeps money flowing in. But I am also reading blogs, and writing.  It’s been a long time.

Thank you  for the amazing support!

I swear I have felt it at my back when I was about to teeter over.

Because the problem is most immediately my child’s, I hesitate to give too many details and intrude on her privacy.

Suffice it to say that for the past month I have raced, galloped, crawled–clawed– my way through foreign territory.  As a parent I expected to deal with mumps, chicken pox, colds, pneumonia, mono, horrible behavior, temper tantrums, drug experimentation, horribly uncomfortable moments– you struggle to keep your face serious while you deliver a short, terse lecture on appropriate behavior in school, demonstrate how to insert a tampon or don a condom, challenge the school board because there is not one single person of color in the school system–except the janitor.  There’s the moment when you realize your daughter really should be allowed to play with Barbies even though you would prefer to let the Rottweilers eat the damn things.  And the moment your son decides to marry Barbie.

I never dreamed I  would face cancer.  I wasn’t prepared for this job.

Image

I like to be prepared.

This challenges EVERYTHING that is hard for me.

Security/Money: How the HELL will we pay for this?

Pride: I have to ask for help.

Even worse: I NEED help

Independence:  I have to allow help.

Faith: The world will be safe again.

Submission-to everything!

Procrastination–my greatest character defect absolutely can not be allowed to sneak in.  There are too many balls in the air.

Trust: If I had thought this could happen, would happen, I’d picture myself researching carefully, conducting interviews, analyzing the  literature, searching references for the perfect doctor, the perfect method of treatment. Instead, I trusted the pediatrician I picked years ago to do her job, resulting in  one month from niggling concern to first treatment.

There’s more, but you get the picture.  I’m frightened. I’m functioning.  I’m feeling. I’m asking for what I need.

Supposedly we are dealing with a very treatable disease with expected positive outcomes and a phenomenal recovery rate, and very small likelihood of re occurrence.  But she has 58 days of treatment hell ahead of her and I desperately need your good wishes.

30 thoughts on “Sitting Still for a Moment–

  1. Saoirse,

    this is every mother’s nightmare. And yet…and yet, you MUST hold on to positive thoughts, to believe it WILL be ok, that she will be ok, that life will come around and you and she will learn and survive and be better people for the hardship when its over. Or maybe….she and you will just live, and that will be enough. It’s treatable.

    My prayers and my good wishes are with you all,

    Sara

    • Oh Sara, I do believe. Hard as it is, I have watched people survive far worse and learned from them. There is pain, and fear, of course-as a mother you want so much to protect your children. I believe the best I can do–not that I always like it–is to walk with them into the storm and stand firm. Thank you for your presence next to us.

  2. Oh, my goodness, Saoirse! I’m so sorry. She will get through this, and so will you. Thinking of you and your family.

  3. Saorise, Is iad ár smaointe agus paidreacha a bhfuil tú. Go dtuga Dia thógann tú go léir ar a sciathán, agus do iníon ar ais go dtí an dea-shláinte.

    (((barróga)))

  4. I am sending you all my good wishes and prayers and thoughts and anything else I can think of. I do hope you can feel the love and support and that in some small way it helps. I’ll be thinking of you and your daughter. Best, best wishes!

    • I do feel it Zoe! I always smile when I read a comment about Blog Land friends not being real. if anything-I think sometimes they are more real as there is no need to present a false self. of course I know many do-but I know genuine when I feel it! The thoughts, prayers, hopes mean the world to me.

  5. Saoirse,
    I have been lurking for months but this post brought me out. I am in my late forties and in my twenties I had cancer. Then in my thirties I had a different kind of cancer. And just to be special in my forties I had my third type of cancer. All the surgery’s all the chemo all the radiation I was thankful for one thing, it was me and not one of my children. I will pray for you and your family every day. I will give one piece of advice. Laugh out loud as often as you can threw this hard time. It makes you feel better and it’s better than crying. If I can help please just ask. My heart is with you.
    Julie

    • That is a huge help, Julie! Laughter is always my best option. I am both a realist and an optimist-which is a real trick and th eonly way is to laugh at the sheer incredibility of life. And I need the great tale of surmounting the disease-I will hold it close to my heart. I’m so glad you came out of Lurkerdom!

  6. I’m sending you good wishes and the biggest hug ever! I’ve seen you comment on blogs, but this evening I believe is the first time I’ve found yours … I’m glad. Sending positive thoughts and prayers. Meg

    • Thank you Roz. I am focusing on the thought that you get up in the morning and do what’s right in front of you. That’s life. That’s LIFE-in all it’s glory!

  7. My cousin’s daughter developed a very severe cancer when she was about seven. Her treatments were extensive, and from a distance, I wondered what her prospects were. She’s now a glowingly healthy fifteen year old with no trace of illness. I wish and expect the same recovery for your child!

    P.S. If procrastination is your greatest character defect, you’re lucky. It’s probably the easiest to defeat with willpower, and I know you’ve got plenty of that!

  8. Hang on Saoirse! I can’t imagine what this next 58 days will be like. It’s one of those moments that I know only a parent can truly understand. I know how much I have hurt for children who are not my own, so I can merely compare and feel the pain with you.

    Many hugs and many prayers will sent over this time…you can count on it! Hang on to that guy of yours too.

    • Susie-i couldn’t do this without him. Sometimes I feel like everything I learned-every battle I ever faced was to get me ready for this one…..Thanks for your support and prayers,
      Saoirse

  9. I wish I had something eloquent to say! I am just sitting here with tears in my eyes for you, wishing I could give a hug for real. You guys will tackle this thing! Your whole family is in my thoughts. (((HUGS)))

    • Thanks, Tess. I know we’ll come through this- and I appreciate all the support. May you never know what this is like-never mind eloquent! Your thoughts and hugs mean the world,
      Saoirse

  10. Saoirse I am so very sorry for what you and your daughter are going through. If we, as mothers, could suffer for our children, we would! But the treatments now are wonderful, and the doctors and nurses involved fill you with hope and optimism. I just know you will both get through this!

    I’m sending love, support and prayers from Starman and me. My advice to you, as we are a couple of months down the line now, is to ask questions, ask questions, ask questions. There are incredible treatments out there and some are much more easily bearable than others. Your daughter has youth, strength and a strong Momma on her side!

    Hugs, prayers and blessings,

    Ami

    • Thanks, Ami. People have been wonderful: gentle, kind, warm, accepting. They encourage questions and my head is still spinning so fast I can’t formulate one! Just the big one: Will my daughter be ok? they keep hugging me and saying “yes”. Thanks for all your encouragement,
      Saoirse

  11. Yes, I am living in constant fear of having to do all the things you mention, but cancer is something I don’t even want to think about. I am sending you strengths and positive energy to continue to deal as good as you can. YOu are in my thoughts. Hug.

    • Thanks, Julia. I am very relieved I learned a few of these things before-i never could have managed this without those lessons-and all of my good friends and supports-including you folks in Blog Land. Who says you’re not real?! I FEEL the support!

  12. Saoirse, I’m another lurker and, like Julie, this has brought me out of the shadows to tell you my thoughts and prayers are with you. Be strong, trust that all will be well. Accept whatever help comes your way.
    Lynn

    • Today a family brought the very best homemade red sauce I have ever tasted……Yum! I’ll take every piece of help offered. Thanks for saying “hello”
      Saoirse

  13. Hi there, hope you don’t mind me commenting but I just had to send you my best wishes for your little girl. I too have had cancer, about ten years ago. It is amazing what the medical profession can do these days.. Good luck with the coming months, hope it will soon be behind you, love Jan.xx

    • I love meeting readers, Jan-and so appreciate your success story and good wishes. It is a hard thing to wrap my brain around-it never occurs to you, does it? My daughter will have cancer…..and there’s not much time for wrapping anyway-I’m running! But: it does make us all pull in as a family. Hope you speak up again!
      Saoirse

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