It will be OK.


We got to the hospital, and the doctors came in to talk to us. They confirmed the bad news, and I was in shock. I had rode the entire way up to the hospital telling myself that it was wrong. It was a misdiagnosis. He didn’t deserve this, so why would it happen to him? The funny thing is, no one ‘deserves’ cancer. No one ‘earns’ it. It just happens, and it happens mostly to the good people. They said that they thought it was AML, but we still talked through all the different types of leukemias, to gear us up for the official diagnosis. They told us that they were going to do some extensive testing and we would know more in the next couple of days. There were doctors upon doctors coming in to look at his infection from the wisdom teeth, but no one seemed to be too concerned about the actual reason we were in that dark room. The cancer.

The IV team came in to hook him up to his antibiotics, and I was the one holding his hand while they poked and prodded. I couldn’t even look at him, because he was so sick, and I knew I would start crying again, but I couldn’t. I had to be strong. I had to be the one telling him that it was OK. This was so hard, because I was questioning it myself.  I was looking away, but he was groaning and gripping my hand like an alligator’s jaws latching onto its prey. It was then that I actually started trying to tell myself that this was real life, and I was never going to wake up from this nightmare. This is real. Everyone from our families started arriving, and I was just terrified. I didn’t like seeing my family all come together because of a sickness. I wished it was for a birthday, Christmas, or even the awkward family reunions would have been better. There were so many people in the hallway from both of our families, each going in to say hello to what we thought of as a dying little boy with cancer. LUCKILY, we were wrong.

I slipped out into the hallway for a minute, went over to my mom and just cried on her shoulder, hugging her. She told me that everything was going to be ok, and for some reason, I believed her. I couldn’t believe myself, or anyone else. I couldn’t even believe the doctors. If it wasn’t for those words coming out of my mom’s mouth, that night would have been a lot longer and a lot more treacherous. I went back into the room, and sat in bed with the love of my life, listening to his beating heart, and knowing, that it was going to keep beating, and it wasn’t going to stop because of this. I learned to love that little muscle. It pumped life through my love’s body. And for that, I could not be more grateful.

It was getting dark, the people were starting to go home, and C was deep in a sleep I didn’t want to wake him from. Sleeping was the only way he could find relief for the past couple of days. My mom came in and told me it was time to go home. I wasn’t ready, but when would I ever be ‘ready’? We went home that night, and I could not fall asleep. I remember fervently praying to my Heavenly Father for comfort, and peace within my heart. I finally fell asleep, for what felt like 10 minutes before it was time to get ready and start this new, terrifying chapter of my life. Our life.


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