http://www.warchild.org/index.htmlCheck out the CD coming out soon at Amazon.com. War Child Heroes
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
More Thank Yous
Every street is dark
And folding out mysteriously
Where lies the chance we take to be
Always working
Reaching out for a hand that we can't see
Everybody's got a hold on hope
It's the last thing that's holding me
--Hold On Hope, Guided by Voices
And after all this Adam's port removal procedure yesterday went off without a hitch. He was in the O.R. for about 35 minutes, maybe, and then to the recovery area. He took his time waking up but once I put on a spider man cartoon he found energy to sit up, drink his icey and then, when asked "Don't you want to get out of here?", he got dressed and we left. The port is now in a plastic specimen jar on his desk. It will make a great 'show and tell' piece. But I don't think they do show and tell in 6th grade....maybe Camille could show it.
Adam is out of school today to recover but I think he is pretty good except for some soreness around the incision spot.
I know there have been countless prayers, blessings and positive thoughts about Adam through out all of this. It's been almost a year since we started down this road (he was diagnosed in March 08). In some ways it's been an amazingly positive trip. We've seen how loving folks can be. I think my relationship with friends and family old and new has been made richer. Adam, one day, will realize how fortunate he is to have had so many join in solidarity with his struggle. Our family rec room full of car license plates is proof, a reminder of people's love and generosity. As I practice my daily mindfulness exercise, breathing, counting breaths, I say a thank you with each out breath. Maybe one day that will be enough thank yous, but I doubt it.
We were confident from the beginning that Adam would make it; that the treatments would be successful. There was every reason to think so. Rhabdomyosarcoma is very treatable, especially when it is found in such a 'favorable' site. The protocol Adam was placed on had a strong history of effective cancer cure. When we first heard the diagnosis the Dr. said Adam would be in treatment for 1 year. But soon we learned about the protocol. I often think that if he wasn't able to participate in the protocol he'd still be in chemo now. Still be out of school. Still be cut off from friends and activities. Still be bald and losing more weight. I know we 'lucked out'. We are five minutes from Vandy. We have insurance. The list goes on. But our main fortune has been the support and love from YOU. If there is a God then that support, love, prayers and good wishes is how God works. So, thank you God.
We weren't as confident about how we would do (Martha and me) as parents of a kid with cancer. Would this stress us to the max; would it strain our relationship (marriages have broken up over less); would I be able to handle seeing Adam in the pain and misery of chemo? Looking back, I think we did ok. The most painful moment for me was spending the night with Adam at the hospital, I think it was the second inpt stay for chemo, and he was bent over in pain for much of the night and I couldn't do a thing to relieve his pain. Adam's stoicism finally broke down that night. He was clearly suffering and all I could do was help him make it to the bathroom with his IV in tow. That night it really hit home to me that this would be serious up hill struggle. I had confidence in the chances for cure but not in my ability to soldier on. Adam was a champion. He may not have liked it but he never flinched. His courage is what in the end helped me to 'toughen up' enough to get through this. So, thank you Adam. And then there is Martha. She too has been the champion. She took off most of the time to take Adam to appointments. She had to put up with Adam when he wasn't at his most charming. She handled the details. She kept up a very positive front, only cracking occasionally. Tears being a relief. But she never faltered in her focus on doing what had to be done. So. thank you Martha. Not forgetting Camille. Camille really didn't understand about cancer but she knew her brother was sick and had to go frequently to the hospital. We certainly couldn't pay as much attention to Camille as we would have in normal circumstances. Some how she seems to have intuitively understood this. We saw none of the 'regression' we were told to expect. Camille never whined more than usual. She was generally sweet to her big brother, giving him his space, peace and quiet (things are different now of course, they drive each other crazy...but that's ok). So, thank you Camille.
There are many thank yous I can't mention for many more family and friends; my mom and dad, Connie (grandma), Jared and Heather, Jay and Lucy, Carson and David, Anna and the prepared food crew who were so helpful especially in the beginning.... nothing says we are thinking about you like prepare dinner; John and Julia (Fin and Morgan); Adam's class mates with their fantastic get well notes, the nurses at Vandy, Dr. K..... well, the list just goes on and on.
And folding out mysteriously
Where lies the chance we take to be
Always working
Reaching out for a hand that we can't see
Everybody's got a hold on hope
It's the last thing that's holding me
--Hold On Hope, Guided by Voices
And after all this Adam's port removal procedure yesterday went off without a hitch. He was in the O.R. for about 35 minutes, maybe, and then to the recovery area. He took his time waking up but once I put on a spider man cartoon he found energy to sit up, drink his icey and then, when asked "Don't you want to get out of here?", he got dressed and we left. The port is now in a plastic specimen jar on his desk. It will make a great 'show and tell' piece. But I don't think they do show and tell in 6th grade....maybe Camille could show it.
Adam is out of school today to recover but I think he is pretty good except for some soreness around the incision spot.
I know there have been countless prayers, blessings and positive thoughts about Adam through out all of this. It's been almost a year since we started down this road (he was diagnosed in March 08). In some ways it's been an amazingly positive trip. We've seen how loving folks can be. I think my relationship with friends and family old and new has been made richer. Adam, one day, will realize how fortunate he is to have had so many join in solidarity with his struggle. Our family rec room full of car license plates is proof, a reminder of people's love and generosity. As I practice my daily mindfulness exercise, breathing, counting breaths, I say a thank you with each out breath. Maybe one day that will be enough thank yous, but I doubt it.
We were confident from the beginning that Adam would make it; that the treatments would be successful. There was every reason to think so. Rhabdomyosarcoma is very treatable, especially when it is found in such a 'favorable' site. The protocol Adam was placed on had a strong history of effective cancer cure. When we first heard the diagnosis the Dr. said Adam would be in treatment for 1 year. But soon we learned about the protocol. I often think that if he wasn't able to participate in the protocol he'd still be in chemo now. Still be out of school. Still be cut off from friends and activities. Still be bald and losing more weight. I know we 'lucked out'. We are five minutes from Vandy. We have insurance. The list goes on. But our main fortune has been the support and love from YOU. If there is a God then that support, love, prayers and good wishes is how God works. So, thank you God.
We weren't as confident about how we would do (Martha and me) as parents of a kid with cancer. Would this stress us to the max; would it strain our relationship (marriages have broken up over less); would I be able to handle seeing Adam in the pain and misery of chemo? Looking back, I think we did ok. The most painful moment for me was spending the night with Adam at the hospital, I think it was the second inpt stay for chemo, and he was bent over in pain for much of the night and I couldn't do a thing to relieve his pain. Adam's stoicism finally broke down that night. He was clearly suffering and all I could do was help him make it to the bathroom with his IV in tow. That night it really hit home to me that this would be serious up hill struggle. I had confidence in the chances for cure but not in my ability to soldier on. Adam was a champion. He may not have liked it but he never flinched. His courage is what in the end helped me to 'toughen up' enough to get through this. So, thank you Adam. And then there is Martha. She too has been the champion. She took off most of the time to take Adam to appointments. She had to put up with Adam when he wasn't at his most charming. She handled the details. She kept up a very positive front, only cracking occasionally. Tears being a relief. But she never faltered in her focus on doing what had to be done. So. thank you Martha. Not forgetting Camille. Camille really didn't understand about cancer but she knew her brother was sick and had to go frequently to the hospital. We certainly couldn't pay as much attention to Camille as we would have in normal circumstances. Some how she seems to have intuitively understood this. We saw none of the 'regression' we were told to expect. Camille never whined more than usual. She was generally sweet to her big brother, giving him his space, peace and quiet (things are different now of course, they drive each other crazy...but that's ok). So, thank you Camille.
There are many thank yous I can't mention for many more family and friends; my mom and dad, Connie (grandma), Jared and Heather, Jay and Lucy, Carson and David, Anna and the prepared food crew who were so helpful especially in the beginning.... nothing says we are thinking about you like prepare dinner; John and Julia (Fin and Morgan); Adam's class mates with their fantastic get well notes, the nurses at Vandy, Dr. K..... well, the list just goes on and on.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
showers, rooms and sisters
Adam's port o cath comes out Tuesday. Yippee. I have run into several folks lately who I have not seen in a while but who know about Adam's treatment. They ask 'How's Adam?' with sincere concern and solemnity. I try not to be too glib not wanting to insult their caring concern but sometimes I slip and say something smartalicky like 'He's as good as any smart-ass almost 12 year old.' or 'He's good, would you like to take him home?' or some such thing. The miraculous thing is, those answers are true in their own way. We (Martha and I) are now just dealing with regular stuff. Adam has been great in many ways. His mood, weight, and hair are all back. He's doing good in school. But he needs a lot of reminding about taking showers, cleaning his room and being nice to his sister. And I keep telling myself, or trying to remember to tell myself, just before I clobber him that having to get onto him for these things is a big fat blessing.
So parents, go hug your children, tell them that you love them. And kids, go clean your room.
So parents, go hug your children, tell them that you love them. And kids, go clean your room.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Exactly Two Things
I mentioned on the notorious facebook recently that my Dad taught me exactly two things:
1) "Actions speak louder than words" and 2) "Message to Garcia". I know it doesn't sound like a lot but these two lessons will take you far. I continue to wrestle with them daily. When I posted #2 some folks were puzzled. What is this "Message to Garcia"? See below:
A Message to Garcia
By Elbert Hubbard
In all this Cuban business there is one man stands out on the horizon of my memory like Mars at perihelion. When war broke out between Spain & the United States, it was very necessary to communicate quickly with the leader of the Insurgents. Garcia was somewhere in the mountain vastness of Cuba- no one knew where. No mail nor telegraph message could reach him. The President must secure his cooperation, and quickly.
What to do!
Some one said to the President, "There’s a fellow by the name of Rowan will find Garcia for you, if anybody can."
Rowan was sent for and given a letter to be delivered to Garcia. How "the fellow by the name of Rowan" took the letter, sealed it up in an oil-skin pouch, strapped it over his heart, in four days landed by night off the coast of Cuba from an open boat, disappeared into the jungle, & in three weeks came out on the other side of the Island, having traversed a hostile country on foot, and delivered his letter to Garcia, are things I have no special desire now to tell in detail.
The point I wish to make is this: McKinley gave Rowan a letter to be delivered to Garcia; Rowan took the letter and did not ask, "Where is he at?" By the Eternal! there is a man whose form should be cast in deathless bronze and the statue placed in every college of the land. It is not book-learning young men need, nor instruction about this and that, but a stiffening of the vertebrae which will cause them to be loyal to a trust, to act promptly, concentrate their energies: do the thing- "Carry a message to Garcia!"
General Garcia is dead now, but there are other Garcias.
No man, who has endeavored to carry out an enterprise where many hands were needed, but has been well nigh appalled at times by the imbecility of the average man- the inability or unwillingness to concentrate on a thing and do it. Slip-shod assistance, foolish inattention, dowdy indifference, & half-hearted work seem the rule; and no man succeeds, unless by hook or crook, or threat, he forces or bribes other men to assist him; or mayhap, God in His goodness performs a miracle, & sends him an Angel of Light for an assistant. You, reader, put this matter to a test: You are sitting now in your office- six clerks are within call.
Summon any one and make this request: "Please look in the encyclopedia and make a brief memorandum for me concerning the life of Correggio".
Will the clerk quietly say, "Yes, sir," and go do the task?
On your life, he will not. He will look at you out of a fishy eye and ask one or more of the following questions:
Who was he?
Which encyclopedia?
Where is the encyclopedia?
Was I hired for that?
Don’t you mean Bismarck?
What’s the matter with Charlie doing it?
Is he dead?
Is there any hurry?
Shan’t I bring you the book and let you look it up yourself?
What do you want to know for?
And I will lay you ten to one that after you have answered the questions, and explained how to find the information, and why you want it, the clerk will go off and get one of the other clerks to help him try to find Garcia- and then come back and tell you there is no such man. Of course I may lose my bet, but according to the Law of Average, I will not.
Now if you are wise you will not bother to explain to your "assistant" that Correggio is indexed under the C’s, not in the K’s, but you will smile sweetly and say, "Never mind," and go look it up yourself.
And this incapacity for independent action, this moral stupidity, this infirmity of the will, this unwillingness to cheerfully catch hold and lift, are the things that put pure Socialism so far into the future. If men will not act for themselves, what will they do when the benefit of their effort is for all? A first-mate with knotted club seems necessary; and the dread of getting "the bounce" Saturday night, holds many a worker to his place.
Advertise for a stenographer, and nine out of ten who apply, can neither spell nor punctuate- and do not think it necessary to.
Can such a one write a letter to Garcia?
"You see that bookkeeper," said the foreman to me in a large factory.
"Yes, what about him?"
"Well he’s a fine accountant, but if I’d send him up town on an errand, he might accomplish the errand all right, and on the other hand, might stop at four saloons on the way, and when he got to Main Street, would forget what he had been sent for."
Can such a man be entrusted to carry a message to Garcia?
We have recently been hearing much maudlin sympathy expressed for the "downtrodden denizen of the sweat-shop" and the "homeless wanderer searching for honest employment," & with it all often go many hard words for the men in power.
Nothing is said about the employer who grows old before his time in a vain attempt to get frowsy ne’er-do-wells to do intelligent work; and his long patient striving with "help" that does nothing but loaf when his back is turned. In every store and factory there is a constant weeding-out process going on. The employer is constantly sending away "help" that have shown their incapacity to further the interests of the business, and others are being taken on. No matter how good times are, this sorting continues, only if times are hard and work is scarce, the sorting is done finer- but out and forever out, the incompetent and unworthy go.
It is the survival of the fittest. Self-interest prompts every employer to keep the best- those who can carry a message to Garcia.
I know one man of really brilliant parts who has not the ability to manage a business of his own, and yet who is absolutely worthless to any one else, because he carries with him constantly the insane suspicion that his employer is oppressing, or intending to oppress him. He cannot give orders; and he will not receive them. Should a message be given him to take to Garcia, his answer would probably be, "Take it yourself."
Tonight this man walks the streets looking for work, the wind whistling through his threadbare coat. No one who knows him dare employ him, for he is a regular fire-brand of discontent. He is impervious to reason, and the only thing that can impress him is the toe of a thick-soled No. 9 boot.
Of course I know that one so morally deformed is no less to be pitied than a physical cripple; but in our pitying, let us drop a tear, too, for the men who are striving to carry on a great enterprise, whose working hours are not limited by the whistle, and whose hair is fast turning white through the struggle to hold in line dowdy indifference, slip-shod imbecility, and the heartless ingratitude, which, but for their enterprise, would be both hungry & homeless.
Have I put the matter too strongly? Possibly I have; but when all the world has gone a-slumming I wish to speak a word of sympathy for the man who succeeds- the man who, against great odds has directed the efforts of others, and having succeeded, finds there’s nothing in it: nothing but bare board and clothes.
I have carried a dinner pail & worked for day’s wages, and I have also been an employer of labor, and I know there is something to be said on both sides. There is no excellence, per se, in poverty; rags are no recommendation; & all employers are not rapacious and high-handed, any more than all poor men are virtuous.
My heart goes out to the man who does his work when the "boss" is away, as well as when he is at home. And the man who, when given a letter for Garcia, quietly take the missive, without asking any idiotic questions, and with no lurking intention of chucking it into the nearest sewer, or of doing aught else but deliver it, never gets "laid off," nor has to go on a strike for higher wages. Civilization is one long anxious search for just such individuals. Anything such a man asks shall be granted; his kind is so rare that no employer can afford to let him go. He is wanted in every city, town and village- in every office, shop, store and factory. The world cries out for such: he is needed, & needed badly- the man who can carry a message to Garcia.
THE END-
1) "Actions speak louder than words" and 2) "Message to Garcia". I know it doesn't sound like a lot but these two lessons will take you far. I continue to wrestle with them daily. When I posted #2 some folks were puzzled. What is this "Message to Garcia"? See below:
A Message to Garcia
By Elbert Hubbard
In all this Cuban business there is one man stands out on the horizon of my memory like Mars at perihelion. When war broke out between Spain & the United States, it was very necessary to communicate quickly with the leader of the Insurgents. Garcia was somewhere in the mountain vastness of Cuba- no one knew where. No mail nor telegraph message could reach him. The President must secure his cooperation, and quickly.
What to do!
Some one said to the President, "There’s a fellow by the name of Rowan will find Garcia for you, if anybody can."
Rowan was sent for and given a letter to be delivered to Garcia. How "the fellow by the name of Rowan" took the letter, sealed it up in an oil-skin pouch, strapped it over his heart, in four days landed by night off the coast of Cuba from an open boat, disappeared into the jungle, & in three weeks came out on the other side of the Island, having traversed a hostile country on foot, and delivered his letter to Garcia, are things I have no special desire now to tell in detail.
The point I wish to make is this: McKinley gave Rowan a letter to be delivered to Garcia; Rowan took the letter and did not ask, "Where is he at?" By the Eternal! there is a man whose form should be cast in deathless bronze and the statue placed in every college of the land. It is not book-learning young men need, nor instruction about this and that, but a stiffening of the vertebrae which will cause them to be loyal to a trust, to act promptly, concentrate their energies: do the thing- "Carry a message to Garcia!"
General Garcia is dead now, but there are other Garcias.
No man, who has endeavored to carry out an enterprise where many hands were needed, but has been well nigh appalled at times by the imbecility of the average man- the inability or unwillingness to concentrate on a thing and do it. Slip-shod assistance, foolish inattention, dowdy indifference, & half-hearted work seem the rule; and no man succeeds, unless by hook or crook, or threat, he forces or bribes other men to assist him; or mayhap, God in His goodness performs a miracle, & sends him an Angel of Light for an assistant. You, reader, put this matter to a test: You are sitting now in your office- six clerks are within call.
Summon any one and make this request: "Please look in the encyclopedia and make a brief memorandum for me concerning the life of Correggio".
Will the clerk quietly say, "Yes, sir," and go do the task?
On your life, he will not. He will look at you out of a fishy eye and ask one or more of the following questions:
Who was he?
Which encyclopedia?
Where is the encyclopedia?
Was I hired for that?
Don’t you mean Bismarck?
What’s the matter with Charlie doing it?
Is he dead?
Is there any hurry?
Shan’t I bring you the book and let you look it up yourself?
What do you want to know for?
And I will lay you ten to one that after you have answered the questions, and explained how to find the information, and why you want it, the clerk will go off and get one of the other clerks to help him try to find Garcia- and then come back and tell you there is no such man. Of course I may lose my bet, but according to the Law of Average, I will not.
Now if you are wise you will not bother to explain to your "assistant" that Correggio is indexed under the C’s, not in the K’s, but you will smile sweetly and say, "Never mind," and go look it up yourself.
And this incapacity for independent action, this moral stupidity, this infirmity of the will, this unwillingness to cheerfully catch hold and lift, are the things that put pure Socialism so far into the future. If men will not act for themselves, what will they do when the benefit of their effort is for all? A first-mate with knotted club seems necessary; and the dread of getting "the bounce" Saturday night, holds many a worker to his place.
Advertise for a stenographer, and nine out of ten who apply, can neither spell nor punctuate- and do not think it necessary to.
Can such a one write a letter to Garcia?
"You see that bookkeeper," said the foreman to me in a large factory.
"Yes, what about him?"
"Well he’s a fine accountant, but if I’d send him up town on an errand, he might accomplish the errand all right, and on the other hand, might stop at four saloons on the way, and when he got to Main Street, would forget what he had been sent for."
Can such a man be entrusted to carry a message to Garcia?
We have recently been hearing much maudlin sympathy expressed for the "downtrodden denizen of the sweat-shop" and the "homeless wanderer searching for honest employment," & with it all often go many hard words for the men in power.
Nothing is said about the employer who grows old before his time in a vain attempt to get frowsy ne’er-do-wells to do intelligent work; and his long patient striving with "help" that does nothing but loaf when his back is turned. In every store and factory there is a constant weeding-out process going on. The employer is constantly sending away "help" that have shown their incapacity to further the interests of the business, and others are being taken on. No matter how good times are, this sorting continues, only if times are hard and work is scarce, the sorting is done finer- but out and forever out, the incompetent and unworthy go.
It is the survival of the fittest. Self-interest prompts every employer to keep the best- those who can carry a message to Garcia.
I know one man of really brilliant parts who has not the ability to manage a business of his own, and yet who is absolutely worthless to any one else, because he carries with him constantly the insane suspicion that his employer is oppressing, or intending to oppress him. He cannot give orders; and he will not receive them. Should a message be given him to take to Garcia, his answer would probably be, "Take it yourself."
Tonight this man walks the streets looking for work, the wind whistling through his threadbare coat. No one who knows him dare employ him, for he is a regular fire-brand of discontent. He is impervious to reason, and the only thing that can impress him is the toe of a thick-soled No. 9 boot.
Of course I know that one so morally deformed is no less to be pitied than a physical cripple; but in our pitying, let us drop a tear, too, for the men who are striving to carry on a great enterprise, whose working hours are not limited by the whistle, and whose hair is fast turning white through the struggle to hold in line dowdy indifference, slip-shod imbecility, and the heartless ingratitude, which, but for their enterprise, would be both hungry & homeless.
Have I put the matter too strongly? Possibly I have; but when all the world has gone a-slumming I wish to speak a word of sympathy for the man who succeeds- the man who, against great odds has directed the efforts of others, and having succeeded, finds there’s nothing in it: nothing but bare board and clothes.
I have carried a dinner pail & worked for day’s wages, and I have also been an employer of labor, and I know there is something to be said on both sides. There is no excellence, per se, in poverty; rags are no recommendation; & all employers are not rapacious and high-handed, any more than all poor men are virtuous.
My heart goes out to the man who does his work when the "boss" is away, as well as when he is at home. And the man who, when given a letter for Garcia, quietly take the missive, without asking any idiotic questions, and with no lurking intention of chucking it into the nearest sewer, or of doing aught else but deliver it, never gets "laid off," nor has to go on a strike for higher wages. Civilization is one long anxious search for just such individuals. Anything such a man asks shall be granted; his kind is so rare that no employer can afford to let him go. He is wanted in every city, town and village- in every office, shop, store and factory. The world cries out for such: he is needed, & needed badly- the man who can carry a message to Garcia.
THE END-
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Murray quoting Goethe on Boldness of Action
For maybe the first time I am trying to do something on my own; build a private practice. Ever in need of inspiration my Dad sent me this great quote from famous Scottish mountain climber W.H. Murray.
But when I said that nothing had been done I erred in one important matter. We had definitely committed ourselves and were halfway out of our ruts. We had put down our passage money--booked a sailing to Bombay. This may sound too simple, but is great in consequence. Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favor all manner of unforeseen incidents, meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamt would have come his way. I learned a deep respect for one of Goethe's couplets:
'Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it!' "
But when I said that nothing had been done I erred in one important matter. We had definitely committed ourselves and were halfway out of our ruts. We had put down our passage money--booked a sailing to Bombay. This may sound too simple, but is great in consequence. Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favor all manner of unforeseen incidents, meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamt would have come his way. I learned a deep respect for one of Goethe's couplets:
'Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it!' "
yikes
It looks like Adam will be getting his port o cath taken out on Tuesday, February 17th. This will be a big day for Adam. No more bump on his chest, no more flushings and the reminder of a lot of unpleasantness will be gone.
The mark of Adam's cancer and treatment will always be with him, in him, I think. It will be interesting to see how it manifests itself over time. Will Adam grow into someone who is sensitive to those diagnosed with cancer and other horrific illnesses? Will he have to deal with his own unexpressed trauma one day in therapy? Will his reflexive reaction to entering a doctor's office fade over time? Lots possibilities. I think he will be richer on the inside for having lived through this. I think he will be more empathic and mindful of the suffering of others. But that will come later. Right now the seeds of empathy and mindfulness are buried under the rocks of 11 year old rockin' good times. Adam is a big boy about to become a young man. Who knows when those seeds will sprout. I supposed the rocks have to be worn down to create fertile soil. A process otherwise known as adolescence. Then the fruit of Adam's travail will show.
Until then, Martha and I need your prayers and good wishes, not for Adam's health (though that is always appreciated), but for our mental health as we begin this journey into the wilderness of a teenager in our home. Yikes!
The mark of Adam's cancer and treatment will always be with him, in him, I think. It will be interesting to see how it manifests itself over time. Will Adam grow into someone who is sensitive to those diagnosed with cancer and other horrific illnesses? Will he have to deal with his own unexpressed trauma one day in therapy? Will his reflexive reaction to entering a doctor's office fade over time? Lots possibilities. I think he will be richer on the inside for having lived through this. I think he will be more empathic and mindful of the suffering of others. But that will come later. Right now the seeds of empathy and mindfulness are buried under the rocks of 11 year old rockin' good times. Adam is a big boy about to become a young man. Who knows when those seeds will sprout. I supposed the rocks have to be worn down to create fertile soil. A process otherwise known as adolescence. Then the fruit of Adam's travail will show.
Until then, Martha and I need your prayers and good wishes, not for Adam's health (though that is always appreciated), but for our mental health as we begin this journey into the wilderness of a teenager in our home. Yikes!
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