Our three-year old has been having nightmares about sharks.
While that’s a little crazy as we live in land-locked Tennessee, she’s woken up a dozen times over the last few months saying the same thing.
The other night, she started crying after going to bed. After calming her down, I went to check on our son.
“Why is Allison sad,” Josiah asked me.
I explained that his sister had a bad dream, and he settled back under his covers.
Tonight, after we brushed our teeth, the kids were about ready to hop in bed, when Josiah stopped to give Allison a hug.
“Have sweet dreams tonight, okay? Don’t be scared.”
It was about the sweetest thing I’ve heard from my kids in a while, and they generally get along very well.
While the interaction warmed my heart, it really hit home tonight.
Yesterday, Josiah went in for an EEG to help measure his seizure activity. Early last month, he had one so bad, we had to call the paramedics. He’s been on anti-seizure medication for years, but over the last few weeks, he’s had numerous small ones — they manifest as small headaches and a nap — despite his doctors increasing his medicine several times.
While this is worrisome, I really didn’t get worked up until his next check-up MRI was moved up from Thanksgiving to a week from now.
Since being on chemotherapy, Josiah’s brain tumor has been classified as “stable.” Even though he’s been off treatment for over three years, he still receives regular MRIs. This is the first time one has been moved off-schedule.
It’s possible that next Wednesday night, my wife and I get a call that everything looks fine with the tumor, and that the doctors will continue to monitor Josiah’s medication levels.
The alternative — and I can’t think of a third — is that Josiah’s tumor is active again. That could mean a million things, but none of them are good.
The thought of going back on treatment, sleeping on hospital couches and watching my son’s hair fall out again keeps me from sleeping. Thinking about doing this again with a second child is numbing.
We have a refrigerator covered with pictures of kids who haven’t made it and it haunts me.
Of course, until next week, we don’t know what the future holds. Until then, I’m trying to keep my imagination under control, pushing the nightmares out.
