I’ve returned from a brief 5 day hospital stay at Dartmouth Hitchcock Medical Center in New Hampshire. It was all too necessary, unfortunately. I went north weak, throwing up 20-30 times a day, in excruciating pain, and in a dark and very frightened emotional place. I returned the 2.5 hours south a few days free of throwing up and on IV nutrition. The cycling of illness is tiring… but in the darkness I hold on to hope. Hope is the little boy, who somehow on some days isn’t so little anymore.
He is the bright beauty that shines through the murky moments. His little hand reaches for mine across the front seat of the car and I no longer question anything. I live to raise this young gentleman… to make school lunches and bring him to basketball and soccer and taekwondo. We talk about the world and what’s right and fair and what’s not. The littlest man is my rock… his mother my world.
There are hard times in uncomfortable hospital beds where I wish I could give them more…and they look at me, holding my hands in their own… she brushes the tear streaked hair from my face and I know that for now I will be okay.
i am getting my nutrition through IV’s into my port for now… I am fortunate to have the medical care that I do. I am fortunate to have access to a medical team that words so diligently to ensure that my quality of life is optimized.
that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard. i am tired… so i sleep. my stamina suffers, but can slowly come back. you can take my health, but you can’t take my hope.