She smiles and hugs me and says, "I love you Mom, isn't it a beautiful day?" The anger just vanishes, she's right, it is beautiful because she's here and I smile.
Over the last several weeks, you've been learning about our journey after Cheyenne was hurt in a softball game and a nodule was found on her thyroid. We had just left the doctor's office after meeting Dr. Athanassaki (Dr. A) and her staff for the first time. Chey had also undergone an FNA (fine needle aspiration) earlier that morning. Dr. A had informed us it would be a few days until the results would be available. Ugh. The two of us walked hand in hand out of the office and across the lobby to one of the many lab draw areas in the hospital. While Chey was in getting her blood drawn, I called her father and explained all the details. He didn't have much to say. I mean really, what is there to say when you are told your child most likely has cancer? He did ask how I thought the result would be though and I told him that I agreed one-hundred percent with Chey, it's cancer. We hung up and I remember standing there waiting for Chey to return asking God, ‘What the hell? She is going through all this crap with the school district, (that's going to be book fodder one of these days) why are you doing this? Hasn't she been through enough? What is she, or we, supposed to be learning?’ Then it dawned on me, I guess that is what people call an epiphany, I thought, ‘Maybe she has gone through all this hell with that damn school to prepare her for the real battle, Cancer.’ Maybe, He had been preparing us all along, making our skins thicker in order to fight this animal.
Chey finished in the lab and walked out. We interlocked arms and started toward the elevators.
"Momma, let's go to the zoo. We need a pick me up. I probably have cancer and might not get a chance to go later," she said as my voice just stuck in my throat.
I couldn't say anything. She was so nonchalant and didn't seem fazed, at all about the words she had just uttered.
I handed her my purse and said, "Man, I gotta go, hold this."
Then I bolted. I got to the bathroom and the sobs just exploded. I was so glad there wasn't anyone in there, not that it would have changed my outburst, and I kicked the door. Then I ran to the toilet and vomited. Hot and violent, then I told myself, ‘Stop, she's out there, get it together!’ So with my insides rolling, I splashed my face with cold water and rinsed my mouth, dried off and hauled by butt out to my child. If she could tell I was upset, she didn't show it.
She simply handed me back my bag, tipped her head and said, "Zoo?"
Well, as usual, you guessed it. We headed off to the zoo. Houston is really not a hard city to navigate, outside the medical complex that is, and the zoo was easy to find. Parking, not so much, which seems to be my bane.
We drove around and around, I looked over at Chey, "Everyone must be at the dang zoo today, you sure you want to go?"
She just opened those baby blues wide and said, "Please?"
So, of course, I drove around for another fifteen minutes then Chey had an epiphany of her own. "Mom, people are coming out, let's stalk someone," she said in typical Chey fashion.
She's such a funny kid I thought before adding, "Great idea!"
So we idled and then two women with a couple kids came out. We slowly followed them, row after row.
Chey started giggling when they started looking back at us and I said smartly, "Crap, it's not funny, we are in Houston and they're probably going to shoot our butts."
She just giggled harder and slid down in the seat. As is my way, I pulled up to them, rolled down my window and told them we'd been driving around for nearly an hour.
"Please tell me you are leaving and we can have your spot," I said and they promptly just looked at me and kept walking as the lady reached into her purse.
Chey screeched through clenched teeth, "You're right, they're gonna shoot us Mom, roll up the window and drive!"
Then, the lady pulled keys out and just kind of pointed, with an extremely long nailed finger, to a Cadillac.
I yelled Thank you to them and turned to my now upright daughter, "Yay, Chey. We get a spot!" We waited while they loaded up and then we parked, moved our essentials over to a string backpack and headed towards the gate.
I was, and am still, amazed at how resilient God makes kids. We both knew, deep in our bones, that this beautiful young woman was about to fight the biggest battle of her life. Yet, here we were, giggling like two school girls as if nothing was out of the ordinary. We spent a fantastic afternoon wandering through the grounds. Chey enjoyed herself as much as she had the first time we went to a zoo. She climbed in and out of exhibits, read all the place cards and involved the younger kids that were around her. I watched her, soaking in every single moment. Absorbing how she moved, how she felt when I touched her hand. I imprinted it all to my memory, how the light shown on her hair and the way the youngster ‘ooh'd’ when she shared some magical knowledge with them. I spent the whole time just being amazed by her, period.
The stress of the day finally began to take its toll and when the light rain began to fall, she wrapped her arm around me and leaned her head on my shoulder as she hugged her stuffed red panda and said, "I'm done Momma. Thank you, it was great."
And with that, we headed back to the hotel to rest before the long road home tomorrow.
Next time, The Call...
XXOO Make Everyday Count,
Bonnie.
No comments:
Post a Comment