Bittersweet 16

I finally got down to Oakland Children's Hospital to see Missy and Tori last week. Finally! It was Tori's 16th birthday last Wednesday so all the women in the family went to celebrate with her. Her Bittersweet 16th. She can have a Sweet 16th later if she wants. I'm glad I finally got to lay eyes on them. I'd made plans to fly down there 3 other times, but each time either I was sick or the baby was sick, and Tori essentially has no immune system so I couldn't risk exposing her to something I might be carrying.

I was unprepared for just how bad Tori looked. I get daily updates and I've seen pictures, but seriously, she looked like 8 kinds of hell. It was shocking. The poor kid. She's had her bone marrow transplant, but she's dealing now with the effects of the radiation she had to have before she could get the transplant. She's still bald, but now her kidneys aren't working right, so she's all swollen with excess fluids. She has, essentially, radiation burns on the tips of her fingers and toes and a couple of other places, and she bruises at the slightest touch. She's losing the lining of her mouth, nose, throat, intestines, etc., so she can't eat. I never heard her complain, but she's obviously in a lot of pain, and other discomfort, despite all the pain meds she's on.

For all that Tori's going through, my heart was really with Missy. I just can't imagine what she's experiencing. It's really the horror of watching her child die, because that's what she's doing. Even if the doctors can cure her, Tori's dying right now. It's all part of the treatment - taking you as close to death as possible, so that they can bring you back cancer-free. It really seems to me like the doctors have thrown Tori off a cliff. She's falling, and maybe they can catch her at the bottom and she'll survive the fall. And Missy has to watch all of this, and can't do anything about it except be there, fall with her, and tell her over and over that if she has anything to say about it she'll be fine.

I was there 3 days, we never left the hospital, and I came home exhausted. They've been there 8 months, less one week furlough home when she was doing better back in March. Eight months. I don't know how they do it. Or, I guess I do know. They do it because what choice is there? Missy's in that hospital room 23 hours a day because that's where her daughter is.

Go hug whomever you love right now. I'm serious, y'all, go do it. Hug 'em and look them in the eye and SEE them. I'm sure you hug your loved ones all the time, but give them an extra one for me, ok?