Am I really going to blog?: Happy Easter

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Happy Easter

We spent last Easter at NCH. Despite the transplant restrictions, we were still able to have the Easter Bunny visit & leave some treats. Trying to hide eggs without using the floor was challenging, but we made do. I miss him.

We have a big family so we divided up hosting on the holidays. My mom always hosted Easter. She would bake a huge ham & everything, but what we all looked forward to was the Bunny Cake that she made every year that I can remember. This was her 2006 creation. I miss her too.

Sam & Cam - Easter 2006. Last one before relapse.

Easter 2005. Cameron loved his green bunny that he got for Easter 2004. He slept with him until the end, though he never took him to the hospital. I think he was embarrassed or thought that he was too big. Samantha sleeps with it now.

Sam & I went to church this morning. I wore the last Easter dress that my mom bought for me. After church we went to the cemetary to leave a treat for Cameron. Sam is very nurturing, whenever I am sad she tells me "I will keep care of you mommy." And she does.

2 comments:

MonicaApril 12, 2009 at 5:33 PM
Cameron got a PEANUT BUTTER EGG for Easter?!! Lucky guy! He got the high-end candy that only the cool kids get.
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Gina SampsonApril 13, 2009 at 3:57 PM
Lori, you are in good hands with Sam's love. I am sorry that yesterday was hard, and yes another first. May God Bless you this week!!!!

Hugs,
Gina
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I HOPE....

I hope you never have to hear the words, 'Your child has cancer.'

I hope you never have to hear, 'The prognosis is not good.'

I hope you never have to prepare to undergo radiation or chemotherapy, have a port surgically inserted into their chest, be connected to IV poles. Look at you with fear in their eyes and say, 'Don't worry Mommy, everything will be okay.'

I hope you never have to hold your child as they vomit green bile.

I hope you never have to feed them ice chips for lunch.

I hope you never have to watch the 'cure' you pray for slowly take away their identity, as they lose their hair, become skeletal, swell up from steroids, develop severe acne, become barely or unable to walk or move, and look at you with hope in their eyes and say,'It's going to be okay, Mommy.'

I hope that you never have to stay in the hospital for weeks, months, or years at a time, where there is no privacy, sleeping on a slab, with your face to the wall, where you cry in muffled silence.

I hope you never have to see a mother, alone, huddled, in a dark hospital corridor...crying quietly, after just being told, 'There is nothing more we can do.'

I hope you never have to watch a family wander aimlessly, minutes after their child's body has been removed.

I hope you never have to use every bit of energy you have left, with all of this going on around you to remain positive, and the feelings of guilt, sorrow, hope and fear, overwhelm you.

I hope you never have to see a child's head bolted to the table as they receive radiation.

I hope you never have to take your child home (grateful but so afraid) in a wheelchair because the chemo and radiation has damaged their muscles, 35 pounds lighter, pale, bald, and scarred. And they look at you with faith in their eyes and say, 'It's going to be okay Mommy.'

I hope you never have to face the few friends that have stuck beside you and hear them say, 'Thank God that is over with,'...because you know it never will be. Your life becomes a whirl of doctors, blood tests and MRI's and you try to get your life back to 'normal'. While living in mind-numbing fear that any one of those tests could result in hearing the dreaded words...'The cancer has returned' or 'The tumor is growing.' And your friends become even fewer.

I hope you never have to experience any of these things... Because...only then...Will you understand...

(author unknown)