The next few months feel quite like a prison sentence. So much so, that I can’t even think about it in terms of three months, I can only think in small chunks of time that are manageable, so much more so than thinking of Gavin staying cooped up inside a hospital for these precious long months of his little life.
All the treatment that has come before pales in comparison to what we are facing now. Gavin accepts that we must go to the hospital, and he know what it has been like there before, so he went along relatively willingly this evening when we closed up the house. I crumbled as I locked the door, knowing that I’ll be back in a few days to check in, but it may be a very long time before my little man comes home again.
We arrived on 8B and walked through the three sets of closed doors that wall it off from the outside world, stopping to do the obligatory hand-washing on the way in. Our nurse showed us to our new room, which will be ours for only the next four days, so that is the amount of time I’m allowing myself to think about. We have to get through the next three days of chemo, then on Thursday we move to a “clean” room and he receives his first transfusion of his own stem cells.
So for these next three days, we are free to leave the room, thank God, as the isolation rooms are small to the extreme. We cannot leave the floor or go outside but we can at least walk outside of the ward on the eighth floor, or perhaps go to the Starlight Room if possible. Come Thursday, we must wash all of our things in antiseptic cleaner, and enter the clean room, and stay for two weeks. When Gavin’s counts have remotely recovered again, we will be free to leave the hospital, but only for two days, before we have to come back. I haven’t yet decided how Gavin would react at being taken home for only two days and then having to return, so I don’t know what we will do then.
I left Gavin with Daddy tonight and we will spend the day together tomorrow as Gavin receives his chemo. I have to admit that I felt a wave of relief as I left the ward, relief and guilt and crushing sadness. I bawled my way to the elevators, but then scrambled to get it together as I ran into a nurse I know. I was thankful for that, because I really don’t want to spend the next months shedding useless tears. Yes, there are times that I must cry, things sometimes seem so terrible and hopeless, but I don’t want Gavin to see me like that. (Although he has) I want him only to see my smiling face, and to remember in future that all through these dark days mama did her best to play with him, teach him, entertain him and help him through this incredibly unfair and painful process. And things are NOT hopeless. He is strong, he is brave, and he will get through this.
This is only the first day. Please, all of our friends, send us your prayers, thoughts and energy. Now we need it more than ever.
10 responses to “And we’re in”
My dear sweet family – Erica, Craig and Gavin – I am crying silently as I read the bits about your tears Erica. – You have to release. You are so strong and Craig too. Gavin has the best of both of you in him. Remember that. I’ts IN him. You have already established that he is a fighter. I believe in Gavin and the both of you. My prayers will be stronger, and the word is out for more.
Energy flowing straight through to all of you – especially Gavin – but you and Craig are his conductors and I know that you will get through all of this. My love to you all.
Erica, you write SO beautifully. Thankyou for sharing & you can be sure that all our prayers and good wishes and positive energy are headed your way. xxxx Michelle, Sam, Neve, Ivy & Tex xxxx
Sending all of you our love xoxoxo
we are praying, dreaming, wishing, and loving for you guys every minute of every day. as always, your strength in the face of a constant barrage of new tests and challenges amaze us. as you focus on one day, two days, or three days at a time, eventually this time too shall pass, and we pray the gavin emerges even more resilient.
I don’t know who you are, but what I do know is that no child deserves to go through such a horrible time in their life. I’m not one who normally prays, but I will pray for your son Gavin, and I wish him a full recovery.
Erica we are all thinking and praying for Gavin, you and Craig. Love and most positive thoughts and energy to you all.
love, light and courage sent to you everyday from me & mine – we miss you and look forward to all your blog posts to keep us updated,
Erin & family
Erica – I can’t help but think of this quote:
‘When you’re going through hell, keep going’ – it’s right on the back of the old cliche ‘one day at a time’.
You and Craig will discover strength you never knew you had at the exact moment you need it.
Our prayers thoughts and wishes are with you all.
You are an inspiration, Gavin is always in our thoughts and prayers. I long for your blog telling us you are home for good. Lots of Love Lisa, Paul & Jasmine xx
As always, thinking of Gavin and you and Craig. Notwithstanding our friendship and the kids’ friendship being in its nascent stages, you are a big part of our hearts. Can’t wait until we get together again. Gavin – you are a superman of strength. We are sending you all our positive thoughts, prayers, and love. xx diana, adam and seraphina (aka phinny)