Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That is how the light gets in.
― Leonard Cohen, Anthem
A relatively quick update tonight, with a multimedia offering attached below to mix it up a bit. I have never "sung" in public before, so fair warning: it is a far-from-perfect offering. Homecoming has been mainly smooth with all of us full of relief at the prospect of a renewed rhythm close at hand. Of course, in many ways it is a bittersweet re-entry, given that James's friends have all started kindergarten and the routine we were anticipating this fall is now a distant fantasy on an even more concrete level. I think I could postpone disbelief while still back east, and now there is no level of magical thinking or denial to be indulged. There was a lot of the "Before" on display here at home when we walked in, especially with me having been gone for over a month: ample "to do" lists now obsolete, final back-to-school forms now outdated, the family whiteboard calendar with much of fall work and vacation travel mapped out when that was still The Plan - all the administravia of life that I now have to move squarely into the "After." But James is doing fine considering the jetlag and the meds, and we have our first meeting bright and early tomorrow morning with the pediatric oncology team at UCSF at Benioff Children's Hospital. That will help this feeling of being in medical limbo at the moment, with the treatment protocol still on track but no new medical faces or venues attached to it as of yet.
James was thrilled to sleep in his own bed, though sleep has been hard to come by given these &%$#*?!!%# steroids, which we still are coaxing down his throat twice a day with a spoonful of ice cream. He hates ice cream now, the poor kid. I promised not to sugarcoat things here, and I still won't. While it is much, much better than being at the hospital 24/7, this day-to-day is certainly no picnic. No more details tonight. Check out the 3-min video below if you are so inspired - a far from perfect offering, but with a mother's untrained voice growing stronger by the day. And frankly, letting go from a perfect offering has been my mantra since this bomb exploded on our picture perfect lives less than a month ago. Many thanks for the moral and musical support (not to mention the laughter = the best medicine!) from Devon, Vanessa, and of course Sarah McL.
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