Peace

Jenny here.

First and foremost, let me say how great it is to have Wil home. Every day he is getting stronger and helping more with his ADL's (activities of daily living). I work swing shift 4 nights a week so I get home in the wee hours of the morning and if possible try to sleep in. The last few months there has been very little of that!  Today, without knowing it, Wil got up, used the bathroom without any issues, and changed his PJ pants and came back to bed while I slept!  When we finally got up and I made breakfast, he ate a 3 egg omelet and toast and hung out doing some PT exercises for about 90 minutes watching SNL. This friends, is huge progress and success!  I am still waiting for the day I hear a laugh. I feel like a parent, just waiting for that next milestone.

After that I did something I haven't done in so long. I took a nap.

It started out as a caregiver thing.  Wil wanted to sleep but was feeling anxious. As I have learned, laying next to him helps him calm down and sleep.  So I snuggled in tight. It has been almost 2 months since we could just lay there in the same bed. As I pressed my nose into his shoulder, I remembered what a calming effect he has on me too.  I laid there just breathing him in while he drifted peacefully off to sleep.  These moments. These are the ones that have value beyond words.  I will be happy when he can be independent. Overjoyed when we can go places and he can walk.  Relieved when he is cancer free. But in these moments between life's pressing obligations and care taking, in the stillness...I can almost see him shake his head when I say I feel like we have what we need.  That is, he is all I need.

My mind drifted for awhile to things I could be doing (yikes housework!).  And then I heard that Bastille song Pom Pei.

"And the walls kept tumbling down
In the city that we love
Great clouds roll over the hills
Bringing darkness from above

"But if you close your eyes,
Does it almost feel like
Nothing changed at all?
And if you close your eyes,
Does it almost feel like
You've been here before?
How am I gonna be an optimist about this?
How am I gonna be an optimist about this?"

A month ago, with all the complications, the walls falling down were the words that made me cry.  But today, laying there, closing my eyes, it felt like we were really home just like before. A B.C. feeling still alive and well in the midst of the big C!  You know in your head that cancer can't destroy many things in your life. In the war zone, however, you have to battle the opponent before you can rest.  Things have changed, but moments can sometimes feel like nothing has really changed that much.

I had so wanted Wil to be back at chemo right away, he had wanted to be back at UTSW right away too, waging war. Yet the cosmic, divine intervention that allowed him to be home right now continues to be what we needed more. An opportunity to put down our shields and defenses, a place for us to close our eyes and for moments like this afternoon, just be Wil and Jen. Nuzzling into him to care for him, I drifted to sleep myself.  Even after all this time, he still takes care of me when I don't have enough sense to take care of myself.

Wil's dad is in town staying with us now, and I hope it gives him motivation to keep doing some great things all on his own.  Even so, I have peace of mind knowing Wil can be at home with someone who loves him while I am at work if he needs anything.

It was a great day.