I know Charlie shared an update earlier, but here’s what really happened — the fuller picture of a night that shook us to the core.
I got home from work around 6 p.m. Will had told Granny he’d come downstairs at 8 to watch a movie together. But at 7:30, my phone rang.
“Mom, can you come here?”
His voice was weak.
When I reached his room, I found Will sitting in his gaming chair, crying — and Will does not cry. He told me the pain in his chest, radiating into his back, was so intense he couldn’t stand.
My mind immediately went to the tumor. To how aggressive it’s been. To the fear of having been off chemo for months. Jason tried to help him up, but the pain only grew worse. We couldn’t get him down the stairs.
Jason called 911. I called Children’s oncology.
The paramedics were wonderful, but they wanted to take him to DCH and wait for a transfer to Children’s. My nerves couldn’t handle the delay. We just needed to go north — now.
So Jason and Will drove straight to Children’s in his truck. I followed behind.
The moment I got into my car, everything hit me.
I prayed the entire drive. That’s how I survive nights like this — worship, prayer, and talking to God out loud. And right on time, one of my go-to worship songs for this journey came on. I sang it at the top of my lungs.
I refused to let the enemy steal our joy — not after making it home for Thanksgiving.
“All my life, He has been so, so good.”
We arrived safely at the ER. Will has had a CT scan and is now getting an X-ray and EKG.
And in true Will fashion, while lying in a hospital bed, he looked at us and asked if we think he’ll still be able to go elk hunting next week.
That’s when my heart finally took a breath.
Thank you to everyone who prayed for us — I felt every single one. I even recorded a snippet of that “God wink” song to show Will, just to remind him that his mama wasn’t letting the devil win tonight.
We’re all together now in the ER exam room.
And Will?
He’s laughing again.
Sometimes, that’s the miracle you cling to.
