Today was a good day. Not because of anything earth-shattering. But it was a million tiny little things that added up to be a huge blessing for this mommy.
I brought the kids' clothes downstairs for church, just a few minutes after Andy had given Ben his morning medicine. Ben was laying on the couch, complaining of a stomachache. He asked for a bowl just in case he got sick. Andy and I knew what that meant. We probably weren't going to make it to church today. That kid's got a high tolerance for pain and barely ever complains. Ben doesn't ask for a bowl until moments before he gets sick in it.
I laid down on the couch with him while Andy took care of the other two in another room. I tried to think of our options... perhaps Andy would take the other two to church and I would stay home with Ben... or maybe I would take the other kids... or maybe we would just all stay home. I weighed the possibilities as Ben continued to complain of a stomachache. Then - all of a sudden - he said, "Okay, I'm ready to get my clothes on for church now."
So he got dressed and continued through his morning as if there wasn't anything wrong.
Andy dropped the boys off at Sunday school while I took Megan into the nursery. Ben was willing and eager to go - and stay - in his class. Just as he has every other Sunday. And they never called us because he was too tired and ready to leave.
We were pulling out of the church parking lot and I asked the boys what they learned in their class. Usually, Jack is the one to answer. He's the self-appointed spokesman for those two. But it was Ben. "Today we learned that God can do anything," he said matter-of-factly. "What did you learn in your class, Mom?"
Andy and I just looked at each other. Huh? I was so surprised by his eloquent response that it took me a moment to gather my thoughts in order to answer him.
After we got back from lunch, Ben took a nap on the couch. Megan was napping upstairs, so Andy decided to take advantage of the one-on-one time with Jack and take a trip to Home Depot. I went upstairs to work on laundry.
After a few minutes, Ben came upstairs. He really does hate to be alone. He walked into the laundry room and plopped himself on a full laundry basket. He was soooo talkative! I was in heaven. He sat while I folded clothes and matched socks. And everything started with, "Mom, remember when...?"
"Remember when you found out you were going to have a baby? And you were really having two? And you were so happy you cried and cried?"
"Remember when I was a baby and I was so little? And then I grew and grew into a little boy? I'm going to be ten someday. And Megan will still be smaller than me. I am almost a man."
"Remember when we went to Myrtle Beach and we caught a crab at nighttime? Can we go there again? I want to fly this time."
"Remember when I was at the hospital for ten days? And I had an IV? Do we have to go back there again? I liked that playroom."
"Remember when Daddy saw a turtle on the side of the road and we took it to Nana's house? Remember when I held it? I never held a turtle before!"
"Remember when we went to Uncle Matt's store and we just kept jumping and jumping on all the mattresses? That was really fun."
You see, when we met with the neurosurgeon to talk about his tumor tripling in size in just three weeks (including one week of radiation and treatment,) the prognosis was not encouraging. They couldn't see the tumor doing anything but continuing to grow. And with that continued growth would come more swelling, more discomfort, more problems. We were told to expect him to struggle to make connections, slur his words, trip over his own feet, and for his memory to worsen.
It's been two weeks since we were sent home from the hospital. For the second time. With no promise of returning to Roswell for treatment, just to Children's if we had problems.
And people continued to pray.
And in two weeks, we've only administered morphine once. And that was namely because the swelling was so big after treatment and we didn't have a good schedule and dosage of steroid yet. The only medications he's taking is the steroid to help minimize pain from the swelling, a medicine to protect his stomach from the toughness of the steroid, and an anti-seizure medicine. That's it.
It's been two weeks. No seizures. No memory loss. No pain.
We are only taking one day at a time. I can't even think about what may happen tomorrow. As the Bible says, "tomorrow has enough trouble of its own." I know firsthand how quickly things can 'go south.' But I am choosing to be grateful for today. Even the other neurosurgeons we've talked to for second- and third-opinions look at the MRI and can't believe he is so high-functioning. He should be so much worse than he is.
The fact that my son is not in pain. He's still talking. He's still walking. He doesn't have a lot of energy and he has lost almost all of the hair on half of his head, but he is not struggling. I can't ask for much more than that!
And I believe this is all due to the power of prayer.
Thank you, God, for my mini miracle and his many mini miracles today.