I was planning on doing a long update tonight

Now I am wondering if I should stick to my plans.  I am paste.  Tell you what.  I’m going to start typing and when I don’t feel like continuing I will stop.  Aren’t I the martyr?

I can’t quite believe that we are at Thursday already.  Boeta had chemo and radiation every day from Tuesday and will have only chemo on Saturday.  No rest for the wicked!

On Monday he will receive Vincristine (a 15 minute chemo treatment) and radiation and from Tuesday to Friday he will receive radiation.  It is going to be such a restful week.  Sitting in hospital for 5 – 6  hours a day for the chemo followed by the radiation and anaesthetic that he has to wake up from has really gotten to me these two weeks.  We have two more weeks of this coming up after next week but we will take it bit by bit and deal with it.

Today Annelize, the play therapist, came to visit Woutertjie but he didn’t even look up when she walked in.  He was playing internet games.  Yes, my 4-year old knows how to work the internet.  Or he thinks he does which ultimately amounts to the same thing.

Annelize spent the whole time she was supposed to see Boeta chatting to me.  She told me to stop worrying about other people so much and firstly worry about myself.  I know that she is right.  But I find it hard to put myself first.  My mom is from the “if everyone else is sorted, I am sorted” school of learning.  It has rubbed off.  When I don’t feel sorted I try to sort everyone around me, hoping that some of their sortedness will rub off on me.  I am feeling particularly unsorted at the moment.

I’m starting to realise that I’m only dealing with the implications of Wouterman’s initial diagnosis now.  Only now are people telling me how sick he really was and how little time he had.  It is hitting hard.  I know it sounds silly to go into a flat panic now about the tumours that he doesn’t have anymore but that’s the way of my life right now. 

I keep remembering images from the beginning of this journey.  I was telling everyone that our child was going to beat this.  And everyone agreed even though they knew better.  I remember seeing his first bottles of chemo ready to be administered and feeling desolate at the loss of innocence.  I remember all of it and I want to go back and hug my then-self and tell myself that it will get better.  But at the same time I want to tell my then-self “you don’t have a clue”.  I was so naive.  I had this conviction that treatment makes all children well again.  Reality is a dog of the female persuasion and she is biting hard at the moment.

So here I am.  No longer as naive as I was but I suspect better in some ways. 

And guess what?  I am after all posting a long update.

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4 Responses

  1. And I think we need the naive and the ignorance to get through the beginning bit.

    You guys are so amazing and such an inspiration!!!

    Hugs, thoughts, prayers!!!

  2. Look how far you have come! You’re allowed a few mini-crises, see?
    Perhaps the naivete was just the thing you needed to protect yourself back then.
    Now that you’re soldiered through you can deal with what couldhavewouldhavemighthave been

    You’re doing so well. Woutertjie too.
    Hang in there. We are sending love !

  3. praying for all of you Suzanne and sending up a special prayer for you.

  4. Hulle sê ignorance is bliss. Ek dink hulle is die keer reg.

    Sterkte vriendin.

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