sat . Title: More Than Words on Paper: Choosing Peace in the Face of a Difficult Diagnosis
The walk back to the car after a scan is often the longest journey a parent can take. Yesterday, after hearing from the oncologist that the current treatment wasn’t working and new spots had appeared, that walk felt heavier than ever.
We have always been honest with Will about his journey. As I pushed his wheelchair toward the parking deck, I told him calmly that we needed to reach out to his team at MD Anderson because the chemo pill wasn’t doing what we had hoped.
“Did it spread?” he asked.
I told him the truth: there were new spots, and the status of the previous ones was unclear. As we pulled out of the garage, a heavy silence settled over him. I looked at him and asked, “What is the only thing that is different this afternoon than when you woke up today?”
He couldn’t answer. So, I told him: Nothing.
“You feel the same right now as you did this morning,” I said. “All we received were words on a piece of paper. Those words do not change the life we woke up to. They don’t change how your body feels, they don’t change the joy waiting for us at home, and they don’t get to steal our peace.”
We refused to let fear take the driver’s seat. Instead, we went home to a steak dinner and sang praise music the entire way. I prayed out loud, declaring life over my child, refusing to change my prayer for total healing.
Last night, there were no tears or lost sleep. Why? Because yesterday didn’t take anything from us that today hadn’t already given. We are still standing, and we are still fighting.
