The Inevitable

What consumes me most, in the silent darkness, as I stare at the ceiling or the back of my eyelids at night is the question - "What happens if the chemo doesn't work?"

We've discussed our current plan with the doctors, and we know that at the end of these 2 rounds of chemo, IF the tumor has shrunken and/or shows signs that the chemo is working, we'll be progressing towards a stem cell transplant.

But what if we do this chemo and it doesn't work? What then? The reality is, we don't know.

There could be other chemo cocktails to try. There's surgery, and radiation. But what if... What if they all fail? What then?

This week we witnessed a family, with whom we've become close, face this very situation. A little girl that Harper has become friends with has hit the end of viable treatment options. The end of the road.

And her family has had to make the toughest call I can imagine. They have taken her off treatment and will be moving her into hospice care.

I have tried to show support in my eyes. I have tried to smile and laugh with them as they have tried to keep her spirits up. I have been amazed by their strength and love for their daughter.

But I am still not sure what to think. I don't know how to feel. Or, More accurately, I'm terrified to think or feel. I have a hole in my chest, a stinging, aching feeling, because that could be in our future.

As much as we prefer to hold on to hope (and we still do), the risk is out there. We knew relapse could happen - now it's here. The chance exists we'll run out of options. Will it come to that?

I shouldn't dwell on this, but I just can't help it. The stinging painful reality of what a close family is dealing with will not let my mind avoid considering this very real possibility.

It has to be the greatest and most difficult expression of love, in that situation, to take your child's welfare above your own desires. I would want to keep fighting, but to what end? To inflict more pain and suffering on my child just because I can't accept the reality? No, it is powerful love that let's a parent see clearly enough through the grief to know - it's time to stop. It's time to let go. It's time to make them comfortable and accept the inevitable.

I hope and pray we don't get to the inevitable.