Tonight's picture was taken in January of 2003. Mattie was 9 months old and I would have to say this is one of my favorite photos of Mattie. Peter and I took Mattie outside into our enclosed commons area. Mattie loved his "tot wheels," which was a baby walker. When Mattie got on flat surfaces, you wouldn't believe how he could move! Practically a speed racer. When Mattie came to a stop, Peter snapped this photo. What was charming about this, was Mattie wasn't looking at the camera, but instead at me. Actually Peter used to joke with Mattie all the time that he was a "mama lover," because Mattie always kept track of my every move.
Quote of the day: Cancer is a word, not a sentence. ~ John Diamon
Cancer maybe only a word, but I would say it is a word that requires no other words. No sentences, no paragraphs, or stories needed. When someone says they are worried that they could have cancer, I can fill in the rest of the sentence. Rather unfortunate that I have this insight, but I very much get it. It is a life altering fear like no other. Yet because of what I survived with Mattie, I have noticed two things. First, people feel more comfortable sharing with me their own health story, but second, I am not only hearing the story, I can feel the story and deeply empathize. So Mattie maybe not be with me, but his life lessons continue on when I listen and help other people facing cancer.
I went to push the Mattie Miracle snack cart at MedStar Georgetown University Hospital. Some days, I can do this in under and hour and other days like today I am there for hours. It just depends on who I meet along the way, what the needs are, and who wants to talk. Experiencing the cart in real time, is very important to me. Because I want to see how the cart is received by families and I want to observe what is working and what needs re-evaluation.
In the process of pushing the cart, I learned that one of the moms I had come to know (mainly because I visited with her monthly and she and her son loved hanging art work on the outside of their door) lost her son to cancer. She was an absolute trooper, with such a sweet face and disposition. The kind of person that was such a sweet soul, you just did not want anything bad to happen to her. Hearing that her son died, has made me terribly sad, because I know the long road ahead of her.
I had the opportunity to see Mattie's favorite HEM/ONC nurse, Tricia, while pushing the cart. Seeing Tricia is always one of my highlights as Tricia saw Peter, Mattie, and me under the worst of circumstances. Yet Tricia said to me today that no matter what was happening during treatment, I never lost it and I always kept it together. You never know how others perceive you when you are living a crisis day to day for 14 months, but I appreciated Tricia's insights. I think my calm but forceful demeanor was challenging to several on the social work team, because what they wanted to see was a Vicki that was crying and hysterical. However, this is NOT Vicki in a crisis, and they had to learn this. I can cry and be hysterical in times when I was by myself or felt the freedom to do this without worrying about Mattie.
It was the kind of day when I heard one health crisis after the other, after the other. So by tonight, I know I need to pause and regroup.
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