World Cancer Day and Louie's last day of radiation. A bell awaits to celebrate the milestone, Louie didn't ring it. We've been down this path before. 16 months ago he finished 30 sessions over six weeks and it was all balloons and back slapping. This time, after 30 sessions in three weeks (yes, twice a day), it's a little more subdued, a bit gloomy even. Louie's relieved, absolutely. Happy to be past it, thrilled. But, it feels like another day. Snapping his head onto a table, unable to move for 40 to 60 minutes each session required incredible composure, calm and guts. To quote Louie "What choice do I have?". Radiation is done at an adult cancer hospital, the amalgam of age and stature can be overwhelming. I have a different outlook on what a long, accomplished life looks like. My mom was 59. At the time I thought that was young, I was young. And as much as I want her back I realize she was a whole person - raised a family, was a part of the community and traveled the world. I see age and experience differently. I feel so fortunate for all that time with her.
Louie's regimen of anti-everything (nausea, inflammatory, seizure) and vitamins (fish oil, turmeric, etc..) is a pharmaceuticals dream. He refers to himself as the Great Loudini, the pills miraculously disappear, he is willing to do anything. All at once I feel completely selfish (for putting him through this) and selfless (for giving him all of me). Contradictory emotions.
Moonshot. Could that sound any less achievable? Happy to see pediatric cancer made the list at a minimum. I dream of promising a billion to whomever figures it all out (that's where our powerball winnings were going). So much love for those that dedicate their lives to curing cancer.
In the meantime, we are ready to hibernate a bit and recoup. And I'm consumed with contentment to sit on the floor and dig for that exact Lego piece as long as we possibly can.