From an article originally posted August 18, 2012…

It’s 1:45am and I am .2 of a degree from needing to go to the hospital. They gave us this magic number—if we reach it, we fly to the hospital. I can’t take drugs to bring down the fever, I simply wait. These past days have been miserable with small glimpses of lovely.

My kids are adjusting to coming bedside for some quality time with me. I have found them coming in to watch me sleep. I’m not sure what is playing in their minds, but I see love in their eyes. I wake to my nightstand covered in scrap paper letters of love that bring me strength.

I’m not doing anything fantastic, I’m just trying to live well. Before chemo, living well was easy, effortless, mundane. I had freedom to move, hike, snuggle, and keep pace however I chose. Now, I’m sidelined and feeling bad.

When I first knew I was sick, I begged people to pray I would be kind in my sickness. I don’t believe illness gives one a pass to be unkind. It’s a tall order and a grace challenge indeed.

The hardest part has been with the kids. I have the most lovely help ever. With mommy still in the house issues of authority are very difficult. My dear friend has been doing the dance so well, but she is weary, I can see it in her. I am sad because I want to be intricately involved in the heart matters of my children. I feel sidelined and confused. I am beyond grateful for the help we have had. Daily, my idols of self, strength, independence are being stripped. It’s painful, and it’s good.

I’m not sure how this cancer is going to change us, but change us all it will. Tonight I’m praying we stay .2 below the magic number so my babies won’t wake up to their mama in the hospital.