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It’s been a rough few weeks.  This pregnancy has been uncomfortable for weeks.  My son is having awful meltdowns that seem to come out of nowhere.  We’ve all been to the doctor way too much because of random skin infections and broken bones.  I’m tired.  I feel as though I’m being tested.   I don’t feel punished but I feel as if I’m being tested to see if I can handle the storm that is to come.  The jury is still out on that.

September is Childhood Cancer Awareness Month.  It’s a bittersweet month for most.  It’s good to promote the idea of a cure and all of the fundraisers that donate to the cause.  However it also reminds those who have lost children of the horrible disease it is.  Not that they need this month to remind them but, maybe I should call it just another reminder?  Regardless….  it’s awful.  

After recently reading the facebook post of an acquaintance telling how her young son was just diagnosed with cancer, I decided that perhaps it’s OK that I’m being tested.  It’s OK that my son had a huge meltdown in ShopKo this morning because I wouldn’t buy him at least one of the six trucks he picked out.  It’s OK because it’s all fixable.  His broken arm can be fixed.  My daughters awful skin infection can be fixed.  Their attitudes will most likely be better after a good night of sleep.  As will mine.  It can be fixed.  

This mother is very unsure her son can be fixed.   He has a bad heart to begin with and is not sure it will sustain cancer treatments.  She would love to have him throw a fit in the middle of the store.  She would love for him to only have a broken arm or some gross skin infection.  She would love to be tired because he was up all night just wanting more hugs & kisses because he’s scared of a shadow in his room.  Instead she is awake all night trying to figure out how to live with this life sucking diseases her son has.  She’s watching him recover from major surgeries and listening to him complain about missing his first days of school.  

Somehow today my contractions and cramps weren’t so bad.  I remained calm through the store and only cried a little as I watched my daughter’s skin start to boil & blister.  It will be fixed.  It will get done.  And we’ll all move on with our lives being thankful it’s all over.  She, on the other hand, will be praying for a fix, pleading for it to be over, and begging cancer to leave her son alone.  

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