The strength of the fight
Today was like the longest day I have ever experienced in my life. McKaylee spiked a fever the other day and her blood counts were zero, meaning she has zero ability to fight off infection, so they admitted her to the hospital. So we walked in the same meaningless path on the second floor of the hospital over and over again, almost like we were constantly trying to get somewhere and just could never get there. It's almost a maddening feeling, like you're trapped in a cage. And I love St. Jude's....I really, really do. It's just being couped up in one place for too long gets to you after awhile. So we went from one playroom to the other (there's only two) and tinkered with the different toys until she tired of that, then we'd walk some more.....then we'd play some more and around and around we went all day long. My mom kept asking me, "what time is it?", and it would have only been five minutes later than the last time she had asked. We had a good laugh about that several times over the course of the day. We would become unusually excited when mealtime came around simply because it was just something different to do. Yeah, that's pretty pitiful. Finally, the day is over and why I'm not fast asleep on my flat-as-a-pancake hospital pillow, I'm not sure. I think it's just that here lately, I can't seem to escape my looming emotions. I look at McKaylee and sadness just seems to overwhelm me. I just keep telling that cancer to "leave her alone!". Not that it listens. I try to pray, but sometimes I feel redundant in my pleading with God. I'm sure He never tires of hearing my prayers but there's times where I feel like I pray and pray and pray......yet she's still sick. The tumor is still there, the cancer is still growing, her body is still suffering.... and for what. Why does this have to happen to her? I know I have said before that I've moved on past asking "why?", but sometimes my inquiries just get the better of me. Today they got the better of me. It's just so hard, sometimes it feels like it's too hard. I was running on the treadmill at the Target House the other morning while my mom was watching her upstairs and I found myself running faster and faster and faster. So fast that I thought my heart was going to explode within my chest. There was this tiny voice inside of me saying, "What the heck?! Slow down, you're going to give out!", but that made me angry. No, how can I give up, it might burn, it might ache, but does she give up? Does she give out? Does she let the pain get the better of her? No. She fights, she battles, she's feisty through it all. So I pushed and pushed until I literally could not make my legs move another inch and then I stopped. And there was this weird sensation inside of me that realized how parents let their children go when God calls them home. You watch them fight with everything they have, you see them push their pain thresholds to the limits and then some. You spend everyday wiping tears and comforting cries and every night kneeling at your bedside, pleading and begging with God for their life. They fight and fight until their poor little bodies just can't take it anymore and then they relent. And there must be some sort of breath that is breathed as you watch them find relief in the arms of their Savior. That's probably completely depressing and I really don't mean to be like that, it's just where I'm at right now. And I'll probably wake up in the morning and feel the exact opposite, with hope in my heart and strength in my spirit. That's what always seems to happen. But for now I think I'll sleep with the sadness that lingers so deeply in my soul. Another night spent in earnest prayer for the life of my little angel. As long as she has it in her to fight, then so will I.