Tonight's picture was taken on July 25 of 2008. Two days after Mattie was diagnosed with cancer. To me, this photo will always remind me of the level of fear, anxiety, and stress we were living under during the first month after Mattie was diagnosed with cancer. I recall these feelings SO well, as if they were yesterday. After Mattie's diagnosis, I developed my first clinical signs of anxiety. Anxiety which remains with me today. I recall I could hardly breathe at times, I couldn't sleep, or eat. I was just living in a constant state of hyper arousal. Seeing this photo maybe perplexing since Mattie was diagnosed in July, and typically one does not have Christmas lights outside in the summer. But after Mattie was diagnosed he requested that we decorate as if it were Christmas time. At that point whatever he wanted, he got, and the task of putting up lights was a welcomed diversion from our thoughts. As I look at this photo now, I acknowledge the simple fact that Mattie was scared. Typically when Mattie was scared he would jump into my arms, just like you see here.
Quote of the day: If I had lost a leg, I would tell them, instead of a boy, no one would ever ask me if I was ‘over’ it. They would ask me how I was doing learning to walk without my leg. I was learning to walk and to breath and to live without Wade. And what I was learning is that it was never going to be the life I had before. ~ Elizabeth Edwards
Do you know what you did and where you were on July 23 of 2008? STOP, think about it a minute!!! Most of us can't remember what happened to us last week, much less five years ago TODAY! However, I wish I could say the same thing. Unfortunately I can't. I know vividly what I was doing and where I was. It is an infamous day in which I innocently took Mattie to his pediatrician's office at Virginia Hospital Center. I was sure Mattie pulled a muscle or had a sprain in his arm from tennis camp. Never realizing that neither were a possibility.
Thankfully Mattie's pediatrician took the complaint seriously and ordered an x-ray that day. Mattie and I walked from the pediatrician's office to the Hospital's radiology department. I recall the x-ray tech taking a VERY long time with Mattie. He kept repositioning him and taking additional films. I never thought twice about this, I just assumed Mattie was squirming and therefore the x-rays were unclear, therefore needing multiple scans. NAIVE!!! After the x-rays were taken, the tech told me to go wait in a room with Mattie. Again, I never thought twice about that either.
I will never forget this holding room. Why? Because we were surrounded by three other people. All older than me. There was NO hospital personnel in the room with us. Just patients. While in this holding room, the phone in the room rang. NO ONE answered it. So I went to pick it up. It was the radiologist who evaluated Mattie's scans and he told me to report right back to the pediatrician's office. I did not like the way he sounded on the phone, so I interrogated him further. He told me it was best that I hear the news from Mattie's doctor. At that point, I practically snapped his head off. I told him I wasn't leaving the holding area without more information. It was then that the radiologist told me Mattie had osteosarcoma. Again, I was clueless, and had no idea what that was, until he said it was bone cancer. Mind you the other patients around me where observing this whole scene unfold. The hell with HIPAA!!! Confidentiality goes right out the window in a crisis. It was at that point my life changed forever and how I gathered myself and Mattie and walked back to the pediatrician's office is beyond me. Amazing the stamina one can develop under a crisis. Super human strength takes over.
When I found Elizabeth Edward's quote tonight it literally jumped off the page at me. She was reflecting on the loss of her son Wade and trying to make the comparison to losing a limb. She felt that if she lost a limb, people would understand the impact on her life and would ask her continually how she was doing. How was she learning to walk again? No one would expect her to "move on" without a limb like they expected her to do without her son. Her quote to me is beautiful and SO SO telling and true. She captures the anger and disbelief so many of us parents who lost a child feel. I am not sure what is worse, the initial stages of grief and loss, or three or more years into the loss??!!! The issues are different but the hurt remains and in fact I believe the hurt gets compounded over time because those we would expect and hope would share in our anniversaries no longer do. The anniversaries are not even discussed or mentioned for the most part, unless we bring them up.
I had various emotions today ranging from anger, sadness, to overall disbelief. When we lost Mattie our world stopped. In many ways, though we don't expect those closest to us to stop living, we almost long to know that our sadness is shared. That we are not in this sadness alone, and that Mattie is remembered by them too. This doesn't take a long conversation. This just takes two or three words. Sometimes I wonder if I am the only one facing these issues and emoting on them. Just when I am in doubt my buddy, Annie, writes to me. Annie lost her daughter to cancer, about eight months after Mattie's death. Annie and I don't live around the corner from each other, yet we see eye to eye. A crucial factor for me, because just when I feel like I am the one with the problem, that perhaps I am being too harsh on those around me, Annie validates my concerns.
A very meaningful part of my day today included visiting a recently made friend. My friend is a mom who recently lost her only child in June to cancer. For about a month now, I have gotten to know this mom and we often share many of our thoughts and feelings about this horrific grief process together. Today on our journey we walked to the Iwo Jima Memorial and Netherlands Carillon. I can't tell you how many times I have passed both of these wonderful monuments and memorials by car. Seeing them on foot and in person was very special and it seemed like a peaceful place to reflect and contemplate. Though a challenging one for my friend since her son spent many a day running around on these glorious grounds. The Netherlands Carillon is a bell tower near Washington, DC that was given to America as an expression of gratitude from the Dutch people for aid provided during and after World War II. The carillon plays recorded music that is programmed to play automatically by computer. Its fifty bells give it two notes more than four octaves. Winchester Chimes play daily on the hour between 10:00 a.m. and 6:00 p.m. Surrounding the Carillon are lush lawns, beautiful flower beds, and an incredible view of DC.
No comments:
Post a Comment