It happens. We can’t plan for it. That’s what makes it a crisis. It’s also what makes it life. Life isn’t a neatly planned series of events. That’s a textbook. Life is not a textbook.
In case you don’t read my main blog, I’ll give a quick summary of our crisis. In late February, my husband felt like he had a pill stuck in his throat. Allergies, thought the doctor, but he ordered blood work to be on the safe side given the family history of lymphoma. The blood work came back fine, but a lump appeared near Hubs’ collar bone. So, back to the doctor he went. This time, a CT scan was ordered of the neck. Just as they finished the CT and were ready to let him go, they said “Hey, let’s go ahead and do your chest while we have you here.” Never a good sign. Meanwhile, in these few short weeks of tests, Hubs began to swell up in the neck, chest, and back, and his breathing became labored. He also developed a chronic dry cough. By the end of March, we had a diagnosis and had started chemo. Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma of the Diffuse Large B-Cell variety. It’s the most common of the many types of Non-Hodgkin. His was staged somewhere between III/IV due to lung involvement, but his bone marrow is clear.
What does this mean for our homeschooled children? It means we’re learning a lot about cancer, immune systems, chemotherapy regimens, monoclonal antibodies, and learning to express a vast array of emotions, all of which are normal.
Our eldest child has a deep desire to have a urine sample from Hubs to view under his microscope the red urine output caused by the doxorubicin. So far, we haven’t followed through on that request. We need to check with the oncologist to make sure it would be safe to handle, even in a vial.
It’s also been a time for the kids to spend more one-on-one time with their extended family; grandparents, aunts, and cousins have rallied around to provide them with support during this time. This means outings, projects, and adventures they wouldn’t be able to do with us, and perspectives other than our own, all of which they cherish.
Teamwork has been another big change. I need their help more now than ever. Help with things that were more often done by the adults in our family have now become things we all need to pitch in to get done. Since they are now 10 and 12, this is possible, but hadn’t been absolutely necessary until now. I think they are beginning to take pride in some of their newfound ways of contributing to our family’s care and keeping.
Even in a time of crisis, the learning continues.