Going up.

By TEAM ANISSA

September 15^th, 2014

WEEK 9

September 15, 2014

The chaotic days and weeks have come to end, for now. Call it a break, respite or whatever you want. Decisions have been made, doctors have been chosen and this week, outside of those here-or-there calls or e-mails to doctors it’s now a time to sit with all of this until Anissa’s surgery.

Our days are still filled with the stuff that we would often think was too much at times: meetings, making lunches, carting the kids to and from softball and baseball practices, to the weekend games, 3rd & 5th grade homework, having to walk the dog and trips to the grocery store. These are no longer viewed as chores. These are the parts that make up our life. They are not too much to handle. They are the things we look forward to. Every trip in the car with the kids is an opportunity to talk about stuff without too much distraction. Finally, I have a captive audience. Doing homework with them is a chance to see what they learned that day and if they need some support in one area. These are all things that remind me to be present.

Like everything in life, it’s what you make of it. No matter what you are doing, where you are going and what you are saying – they are things that our kids remember, vividly. They watch us so closely. They are so close that we don’t even see them at times. They are still sponges… just bigger ones.

I sometimes forget that Jonathan and Isabella are only 8 and 10 years old. 8 and 10. Seems simultaneously a short and long period of time. 10 years at the same job is considered long these days (and unheard of) while 10 years on earth? Not so much. They still believe in some of the more inexplicable things we are traditionally taught to believe in as children. Sure they know how to operate my iPhone better than I can and they can certainly kick my butt when building a world in mine craft. They are capable and independent and there’s so much they can do on their own…but they are only 8 and 10… dealing with mom having cancer? No one, especially a child, is ever equipped to handle that. They are scared.

On the way to school one day this week, the kids were asking all sorts of questions about Anissa’s surgery. When is it again? Where will she be? Will she have a roommate? Can they come and stay with her or at least visit? My favorite was “Can we take off from school that day?” I didn’t have all the answers but I could see them wanting to make sure they did have answers prior to us leaving for the hospital.

When I was traveling a lot for work they did the same thing. Where was I? What did my hotel room look like? Thanks to video conferencing and “FaceTime” they could see me in an instant.

As a child, being separated from your parents must suck. If you have to be apart, it’s far more comforting to know where they are and what it’s like. I tried to think back to my childhood for this. My dad was gone all day at work while I was at school. On those occasions when I did go with him work in NYC, I took mental photographs of his office, his desk and where he sat in relation to his coworkers. (I can still recall the naked lady coffee mug on his desk – when you filled it with hot liquid her bathing suit would disappear). When I would call him at work, I could picture him there in his office, at his desk. It was comforting. I knew where he was and he was safe.

So it makes sense for them to ask all these questions about where Anissa would be when it came time for surgery.

On the way in, Jonathan asked, hypothetically, if he could come home from school if he felt “sad”. I let him know that while in school if his head hurt, he should see the school nurse. If his heart hurt, he should see his teacher. This was the first time I’ve seen any hint of real worry.

Just like us, they’ve been going and going. It seems they’ve gotten off the coaster for a moment and are looking back at it – watching it spin and spin.

Speaking of coasters – anytime someone asks how things are going or how we are doing, I equate this experience to a roller coaster. You know that part of the ride when you’re strapped in and climbing to the highest point? You feel anticipation, worry and fear. You wonder what this ride has in store for you – the sound of the clack, clack, clack of the chain driving you to the top and ultimately the drop off doesn’t make it any easier. Well, it’s EXACTLY like that.

Right now, we’re on our way up to the top and along the way we’re scheduling appointments, getting things in order, planning who will take the kids here or there if I can’t while Anissa is recovering, we’re prepping, we’re bracing and getting ready. We’re waiting for the moment we reach the top and begin the descent at breakneck speed. We reach the top on October 2nd. Until then – we’re still climbing.