The close of another week and another weeks worth of new experiences, fears, doctors, nurses, sounds, smells, and everything that comes along with this world we have been thrust into. I have not posted for about a week for I have not been able to put into words what I have been feeling. The reality is I think I have been literally numb this past week. All of the emotional stress, fear, and energy it took to get through the first three weeks of Liam’s treatment had taken its toll on my ability to feel. One feeling has not been able to be controlled, buried, or ignored and that feeling is pain and the feeling of being helpless. I hurt for my son and for all he is going through and I cannot make it stop.
Blog entries seem to force me to face this pain and though I am sure it is a good thing I have not had the strength this last week to endure it. While standing in the kitchen last night cleaning up the sink I was overwhelmed with the feeling of pain. When it hits me I feel as if the wind has been just sucked out of my lungs and no matter how deep a breath I try and take, I cannot seem to overcome the feeling of being held underwater against my will. I proceeded to kiss Gretchen goodnight as she lay next to Liam who was sleeping peacefully, as if there was nothing wrong in his world. I leaned down to kiss him on the head. The feeling of the soft down like hairs left on his head brush against my lips and the remaining air in my lungs is converted to tears. I cannot take my lips away from his skin. I beg for the disease to leave his body and come into mine each time I make the magical connection of my lips to his precious little head. I have always had a very high tolerance for pain as is evidenced by the sports I have played but nothing can prepare you for the emotional pain you feel when your child is truly hurting, scared, and in danger.
Gretchen and Liam came to the hospital and I stayed behind to clean up the apt, fold laundry, and to get some things ready to go back to NJ to see Ella this weekend. I headed over about an hour after them. I ran into one of the doormen as I left the building and he approached me and asked if it was my son that was in the hospital. I told him it was and that he was doing well. He told me he used to volunteer but it was just too hard for him being that he had kids. He explained that he had to see a psychiatrist because it affected him so deeply. He told me that if there was anything, ANYTHING, he could do for us not to hesitate in asking him.
I continued down the block and about half way to 2nd ave. the “feeling” began to overwhelm me again…. I was drowning and ever so quickly..sinking like a rock. I tried to look at building, cars, anything to try and take my mind off of the pain that had enveloped me so unexpectedly. Maybe it was seeing parents with their perfectly healthy children heading to day care, or the doorman who somehow knew I was the one with the sick little boy. Whatever it was it came without warning. Tears welled up in my eyes and it took every bit of strength that I had to carry the weight that had just fallen on me and to hold back the tears that wanted to fall like the rain that was gently coming down. I dared not look anyone in the eye for fear that they could see it….the pain, fear, and tears. I pushed on and the feeling subsided as I channeled my strength to push down the pain and fear. I think I now know what it feels like for people who suffer from anxiety in their daily lives.