Tuesday, April 24, 2012

How the Human Mind Copes

Frankly, I'd love to know how the human mind copes with difficulties beyond comprehension.

We are just past the 8-year mark marking Finn's leukemia diagnosis. The week prior, I was restless, and I really didn't know why. That happens sometimes in the weeks preceding April 7 and the weeks preceding August 5 (last oral chemo). I must subconsciously feel that something is going on, but I can't really put my finger on it until I look at the calendar, and then I have a little 'aha' moment.

To tell you the truth, the same thing happens when we have the St. Baldrick's fundraiser. It's a great organization and a great event, and I will continue to support it wholeheartedly, but I get anxious as the actual event draws near each year. Reminders, you know.

Statistically, Finn had the most treatable form of leukemia, Acute Lymphocytic (or Lymphoblastic is what I hear more these days) Leukemia -- ALL. Of course, we are grateful beyond measure that what he had was so treatable.

But the fact of the matter is, there is a percentage of children who will die. Period. And yes, that still gives me sleepless nights after all these years. There is no use telling me to relax, that Finn has done well, that I have nothing to worry about. I am a mother. It is not a reflex that I can turn off (electroshock therapy might cure that, I guess). You would be the same. I guarantee it.

What's behind this post on a beautiful day when Finn is sitting beside me doing his homework with no apparent problems of any kind?

A reminder. A reminder that life is fragile. A friend of a friend from Ohio, whose story we have followed on their blog and who we have communicated with, has gone from being off treatment to now having AML, which is very aggressive and they are in for a tough road ahead. The thought that it could be anyone still takes my breath away.

Reminders. I don't like being reminded. It's an uncomfortable feeling. But it's important. Whatever you're doing right now, be grateful you can do it.

And now, I've got to go play with my kids. And be grateful.


Lucinda said...

Thanks for putting my kid's broken arm in perspective. While I don't take the "oh poor us" route, I don't always look at it like "the arm will heal" either.

Prayers for you, your friend, and Finn.

Love ya, cuz.

M said...

Amen. From one mom of a survivor to another.

1dreamr said...


Paige said...

Yep. I can't even imagine and don't even want to think about it.