Monday, May 25, 2015

Counting the Good Days, Not the Bad

I'm learning to treasure the good days in the midst of the days that aren't so good.

That doesn't mean each day doesn't have moments of sadness or sets of issues. They do. But, sometimes the good so outweighs the bad.

Saturday, K Belle graduated from high school. It was a glorious, wonderful day!

There were moments though ... an especially tender moment, as night fell, family and visitors were gone, and it was just our little family at home, in the quiet. I donned my surgical gloves, gathered up my supplies, and began to flush La Petite Belle's PICC line, as I do every night. But, this time, she had a serious face ...  a sad face.

I asked her what was wrong. She began to cry.

I prodded her to tell me what was going on. Through tears, she said, "I just don't feel like myself." I knew she was tired. I knew it had been a long day, especially since we had just gotten home from a LENGTHY 15-hour doctor's appointment/hospital visit at 1:00 am that morning (a new PICC line had to be put in because hers had moved extensively thus causing transfusions to start hours later than expected, also causing us to finish the last transfusion in the hospital). She was emotional and hadn't been her typical, lively self that day.

She said, "I hate that I couldn't really be a part of K Belle's special day like I would've wanted to. I hate that all of you have to worry about me and my situation when it's her day." K Belle came into the room and asked her what was going on. And, I saw some true sisterly love, as she took La Petite Belle's hand and tenderly said, "You don't have to worry about it." K Belle lovingly reassured her that she had a wonderful day and she doesn't mind less attention from Mom and Dad {shifty face here}. 

Despite the tears, it was still a wonderful day and that tiny emotional moment actually made it more wonderful. I witnessed a moment where both of my children were truly being unselfish and loving.

Now, let's talk about the other sad moment, where tears were almost an issue.

The morning was beautiful. Everything was going as planned. We had made the decision that La Petite Belle would stay with my aunt instead of gong to the graduation ceremony, filled with people and their germs. I'm glad we did because I had a hacking cougher behind me. Cover your mouth, lady! La Petite Belle would meet us at the party afterward and had the job of helping to prepare for it ahead of time.

Beau and I headed out early, knowing that parking would be a nightmare with high school after high school were graduating seniors one right after the other. And, of course, there was a fair taking up tons of parking at the arena. Our city likes to book multiple events at one arena all on the same day, making parking nearly impossible.

We were less than a mile away from the arena 30 minutes before the event at a dead stop. Dead. Stop.  You know the kind ... where the light keeps turning green, but no one can move.We had made minimal advancements toward the arena and each of started to panic because we now had 15 minutes before the graduation started. We had to make a decision. I was on the verge of tears, thinking that there was a possibility we would miss her graduation. I couldn't have this. I needed this day to be a victory ... a good day ... no matter what the cost. I was on the verge of tears yet again.

I looked at Beau and said, "I am about to just get out of this car and make a run for it." He said, "Go. At least one of us will be there when it starts."

Really? Am I really about to get out on a main street in our city, filled with cars, and attempt to walk/run all the way to the arena. This was quite a distance to walk. But, I was a mama on a mission and I thought I could walk faster than the cars were moving. 

I got out of the car and headed to the intersection. I met another man there. We had a common goal. It's like we were partners in crime ... beating the system. We WOULD make it in time for graduation! So, we stepped into traffic, dodging cars because we disobeyed the hand signal telling us not to walk. There was no time for that because the light had not changed in 10-15 minutes, which caused the "don't walk" sign to also not change.

So, the walk/run began ... I even begged a police officer on the way to allow my husband, who had still not moved, to get out of line and traffic so he could see his daughter graduate. The response I got: "Call the school board. There's nothing we can do." Thanks, police woman.

I began to walk faster ... slightly jog. The little guy with me started to lag behind. He said, "How are you walking faster than me with heels on?" Listen guy ... I'm NOT missing my daughter's graduation. If I have to full-on run to get there in time, I will. Wedges or no wedges. Those suckers can come off at any minute and I will run barefoot on glass (which was a likely scenario where I was walking) to get there in time.

And, I did make it ... four minutes early, mind you. My hair was as flat as could be and I could feel the back of my dress damp from my sweat, but I didn't care. I had made it. I found my parents and had a seat, just in time to see my girl walk in. Beau made it in about 10 minutes after me. It's a sad day when walk/jogging is faster than driving.

The day was such an exceptional day! Amazingly proud of not just the accomplishments of my first-born, but more of simply who she is. 

K Belle ... your daddy and I love you beyond measure!

We were so blessed and thankful for all the family and friends who came out and celebrated her with us. Not only on this day have you made her feel special, but many of you have helped shape who she it today. I am grateful for you all.




Now onto more good days!

1 Comment:

Lindsey B said...

I attempted to comment on your post about the diagnosis but just realized it never actually posted. I wish I would have realized sooner but your family was on my heart tonight and I went back to the FB message a friend sent me and came to check in on y'all.

Both of my kids have been transplanted at TCH due to a genetic type of bone marrow failure. Both are thriving today (4 and 2 years post BMT). I know your emotions, pains, and questions all too well. My family lives in Houston and I just wanted to reach out and let you know you can email me any time. Dr Leung was our BMT doctor and we are very familiar with the process, both BMT coordinators, the process of searching for a donor, as well as the transplant process itself. I tell people so often that my goal now that my kids are healthy is to be there for families in the trenches just now beginning their journey. My email address is Lindsey.boggan@gmail.com - please let me know if there is anything I can do to help! Even if that means emailing frustrations and venting to another mom who truly gets it. Lifting you all up during this time.