Wednesday, November 12, 2014

The Last Day

A year ago today was the last day of hope.
The last day that I believed it was all going to be okay.

Even though I've said before that I wasn't totally sure.
That I had my doubts, as we edged nearer and nearer to total collapse in those days leading up to transplant.

I think I really did believe it all all going to be okay.
I mean, in some way or another, it would work out, right?
How could I even begin to fathom, to imagine, to understand what was about to come?

A year ago today was the last day that I woke up with any feeling of "normal," even though "normal" still involved a PICC line and a clinic visit that day.

A year ago last night was the last time I kissed Sammy goodnight believing that I would have thousands more chances to kiss him goodnight.

But I only had 33 more chances to kiss him goodnight.
From that day, one year ago, he only lived for 33 more days.

A year ago today I heard the words that flattened me.
"There's nothing more that we can do."

We can buy him some time.
We can buy a little bit of hope.
But there aren't any miracles.

A year ago today was the last day that I believed it was all going to be okay.

How can it be that it's been a year since then?

A year ago: 520 Days Since Diagnosis
Two years ago today: Things were quite the opposite (in this post, I actually had enough hope to believe that we would be able to close up shop on this blog....oh, how naive I was.)

There are still t-shirts to be had, but today is the last day for them, t-shirts created by my sweet Sam and his amazing big brother. Kids' sizes are here and adult sizes are here. Proceeds go to the St Baldrick's Foundation. Maybe someday their work will help make it so that no family will hear those horrible words, "there's nothing more that we can do." If you feel like you have enough t-shirts, you can make your donation here instead.

PICC line dressing change 11/12/13
Two years ago today


  1. you gave Sammy life, you give others hope, for much more than a year

  2. I hate cancer; it just steals so much (understatement of the year, I know). Hugs to you today.

  3. Oh Phyllis. It all just tears me into a thousand pieces. Yes, yes - of course no matter how worried… but it has to be okay somehow right? I mean he couldn't possibly die and leave the earth still spinning, right? I wish I didn't understand so perfectly what you mean, but I do.

  4. A year. Such a short time. Such an eon. I know this will be a difficult 33 days for you. Thoughts with you and the family.

  5. My heart shattered a year ago when you posted this news, and it has never been the same. I spent most of those next 33 days waking up in the middle of the night with my heart pounding and tears already forming in my eyes. I can't believe it's been a year; a whole year -- only a year -- it seems like an eyeblink and an eternity at the same time. I am holding you and your family in my prayers and in my heart.