Things really haven’t moved on much from the last time I wrote. Paul’s a lot better but they are still pumping him full of antibiotics and waiting for his immune system to bounce back before they make any decisions on the next step. Which is a bit frustrating and annoying but I guess we have to ride it out. He looks a bit like an arctic explorer at the moment with a big beard and sunburn (his description not mine – I’m not trying to get him back for the black eye comment!).
I can’t remember a time through this whole experience when I have felt more frustrated about him not being at home with us. I suppose in the past it’s always felt necessary, him being in the hospital. We have either been searching for answers to an undiagnosed demon or fighting the one in front or our noses. And although he still has this underlying ‘thing’ going on, I’m not so frightened of him being at home and fighting it. As much as I used to dream and beg and plead in my mind for him to come back I was scared that the moment he did, something would happen that I couldn’t control – like he might unravel or come apart at the seams. I feared that that I couldn’t do as much here as the doctors in this battle. But his recent homecoming has made me realise that these stints at home are just as therapeutic as the treatment he gets in hospital. Ok, short of sticking him in the microwave, there’s not a lot of things we can do here to blast the Cancer physically, but just the sheer peace, rest and power of familial love has worked wonders in Paul.
Just hope that he gets a couple of days home soon x
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