accepting my life

This week Aaron began his new therapeutic regimen that we will follow until his bone marrow transplant which has been rescheduled once again from April to May and now July.  Aaron is still not close enough to remission to undergo the transplant so we will continue on down this path until his specialist at Dana Farber in Boston says it's a go.


The first time Aaron was in treatment, I attended every appointment and infusion.  I felt that it was critical Aaron knew that I was with him through every step of the process.  Being by Aaron's side is more complicated now with Sasha.  We rarely have made it to the treatments each month for one reason or another.  Often it has been because Aaron does not want Sasha to have his routines disrupted.  But this week, I determined that the two of us would spend at least part of each day keeping Aaron company.

Sasha seems to be making his own fun at the oncology clinic--playing with Aaron's IV pole, pushing a swivel chair up and down the hallway, popping into other patients' rooms and exclaiming da da da and blah blah blah, crazy crawling across the futon in Aaron's room.  Aaron's oncologist popped into our room yesterday and declared that we were just having too much fun.  I wouldn't exactly say that this is how I would love to spend a day together when Aaron is not at work but what I realize we must do is make the best of every day together.  If hanging out at the clinic is what we've got, then we'll take it.

There is a fish in the common infusion room named Chemo.  He is a rather large fish who tends to be aggressive toward anyone who stands too close to his tank.  Since Sasha loves the acquarium, I decided to take him for a visit with chemo.  Sasha showed little interest in the fish.  He was much more drawn to socializing with the many patients getting their infusions.  He laughed and smiled as patients called out and waved to him.  A woman beside the tank began a game of peek-a-boo, which he loves, and he giggled and babbled with great delight.  It wasn't until she moved the pillow from her lap to in front of her face to increase the excitement of the game that I noticed her very pregnant belly.  I moved my eyes from her stomach back to her face and saw the sheer pleasure in her eyes as she oggled my son.

As I assisted Sasha in walking back to Aaron's room, I couldn't help but think of the last weeks of my own pregnancy--the lazy loungy winter afternoons where I allowed my thoughts to luxuriate on my upcoming life with my son rather than the projects I needed to complete.  I tried to imagine how I would have managed if I needed to include life saving chemotherapy into my routine and where my mind might reside each day.

We entered Aaron's room and Sasha immediately clenched his dad's legs with an delicious shout of da da da da.  Aaron rearranged the IV lines then scooped him up against his chest.   I smiled at this tender beautiful scene.  Then began to cry.

Life can be too complicated sometimes.