A mama just knows… and sometimes I wish I didn’t.
Jason and I can always tell when Will goes quiet in his mind. He pulls away from friends… from gaming… and instead, he comes and sits with us. Stays downstairs. Watches shows. Just wants to be close.
And selfishly… those are moments I wouldn’t trade for anything because the truth is, that same uncertainty he feels… we’re all feeling it.
His numbers have been climbing then about a week ago, a new pain hit his back.
It could be muscle. Maybe. He’s been trying to walk without crutches around the ponds, and his pelvis isn’t strong enough yet for that prosthetic. He’s walking awkward… so we tell ourselves maybe it’s just that….But then the nights came.
The last two nights… he’s tossed and turned.
Monday night I slept on his little Temu couch just so I’d be there when the immunotherapy side effects hit.
Around 2:30am… he woke me up for pain meds.
And if you know osteosarcoma… you know pain that wakes them in the middle of the night isn’t something you ignore.
My heart stopped.
The meds helped. He went back to sleep but a mama just knows when something isn’t right.
And the hardest part?
No one would’ve known yesterday at Shelton.
He hides it so well because he never wants to feel like an inconvenience.
The more I ask “Will, are you in pain?” the more he brushes it off because he knows if I see it… I’ll break. That and if I know, I don’t want him doing anything to make pain worse…..he’s making sure he gets to fish!!!
Last night he said,
“Mama… that couch bed is still out… are you sleeping in my room tonight?” like he was just being casual… like he didn’t need me.
So I said, “Yeah… we can watch a few more episodes of SWAT.”
But I knew. He was hurting. He just wanted me close.
He tossed and turned all night and I laid there… staring at the ceiling… trying to convince myself it’s muscle pain.
This morning, I went to the gym and he called needing pain meds again. Charlie brought it to him.
When I got home, I let him sleep and didn’t send him to school.
Later when I checked on him…he told me he found a new pain in his good leg. He said the sharpness of it felt just like the spot in his jaw.
He showed me. Pressed on it and I had to fight everything in me not to fall apart right there.
Because I know what that means. We’ve watched a pea-sized spot turn into a walnut in a week and almost take his bladder out.
We’ve watched how fast this moves and we were told if it spreads… his doesn’t creep. It ERUPTS.
I emailed his oncologist in panic. She responded immediately and tried to move scans up.
The soonest we can get in is Monday at 8:00am. That’s better than waiting until Thursday. A small blessing but I’ll take it!!!
So now we wait.
And there is nothing… NOTHING… harder than this kind of waiting.
You lay there at night watching your child sleep… and every toss, every breath, every little movement…your mind tells you cancer is moving too.
You know how aggressive it is. You know the statistics but you still hold on to that tiny mustard seed of faith.
Because that’s all we’ve got.
So we continue to March Forth.
Will hates to see me cry.
So I cry in hiding. A LOT.
If he’s fighting this hard to live… the least I can do is be strong where he can see me.
He checked into school after lunch. He was scared if he didn’t go to school, he wouldn’t get to fish this afternoon. He’s not missing a day to wet a hook!!
