Delayed Intensification Day 64: Eight Months of Emotions

Tomorrow marks eight months since Scarlett was diagnosed. It has been eight months of constant worry, constant movement, constant appointments and hospitalizations. It leaves no time for emotion or reflection. In many ways, I don’t think that we have had a chance to really process things. Yes, I understand that our lives will never be the same. I understand that my daughter’s life will never be the carefree existence that we hoped for her. But her needs come before anything else. Including processing our emotions. There just isn’t enough time in the day to cry or be angry. I don’t have enough energy. And I’m afraid that if I start, I won’t stop!

Something has changed recently though. We have had such a hard time reading about other children. It just hits us so hard. But Brock spent a lot of time recently reading Bo’s story (a great boy who lives on in so many others). He was so touched and affected by reading Bo’s point of view. It was difficult to know that Bo didn’t make it but, somehow, Brock kept reading.

I have been following friends’ stories from the beginning. But I always tried to distance myself. “That’s their story. My daughter is different”. Recently, I’ve been allowing myself to admit that all of our stories are the same. We have three things in common. One, we don’t want to see any other children go through what our child is going through. Two, the love we have for our children is infinite. And three, all we want is a cure. We share the dream and the goal that others believe is too big to dream of. Someday. Someday we will cure cancer. I won’t settle for someday. It has to be now.

As I read and talk to and follow these fellow warriors, there are moments when my emotions sneak through. Like tonight. As I sat in my car in the Target parking lot, sobbing as I read the Huffinton Post article about Emma Paulson. Some tiny little thing hits me and I break down. It brings back a moment so painful that I can’t do anything but take a moment to let the tears fall and sob silently. Just little reminders give way to a torrent of heartache. Something completely unrelated can trigger a memory that is still so real it causes me to catch my breath and it takes every ounce of energy to stop from letting loose all of those emotions.

We have eight months of those moments. Eight months of having a pit in our stomachs waiting for the “next” thing. Eight months of pretending that life is great. Eight months of being thankful for every moment that we have. Eight months of holding everything in.

We get asked a lot how we are doing. That is a loaded question! We are surviving. We get through one day at a time. We have no other choice. If any other families have any tips for doing anything more, we would love to know! I’m sure that there will come a day when everything bursts out and we have to finally deal with our emotions. I think that we are slowly beginning to get out of the “survival” mode and into “acceptance” mode.