I wasn't going to post this and then decided otherwise. Anyone who knows me in real life, will undoubtedly tell you that I have the gift of gab. Most days I can talk enough for six people. One thing I don't talk about often is my deep deep fear of losing my only child and the light of my life to something of which I have no control and despise and dread with all that I am. I mask my insecurities and deep seated fears with jokes and downright idiotic behavior.
I recently relieved some of this in my Relay for Life post and it felt downright heavenly to finally get some of this off my chest. Because, you see, my chest isn't all that big to begin with and the extra weight is suffocating me!
Normally when Spencer has a scan or test coming up, I become a nervous wreck and lose the little sleep I do get (I'm an insomniac) and become air headed to the fifth degree. Those around me see a dough headed goofball and wonder what I took on my lunch break. Some even ask me to share. I don't, however, talk about it or let many know he has a scan. This is my precious boy here and besides, who wants be looked at with sympathy or called "that mom who's kid had cancer". I cannot handle people feeling sorry for me in any way. I have so much to be thankful for and refuse to look at it any other way. Then, there are those misguided and judgemental souls who think I am actually LOOKING for pity and using my child to get it.
Here, though, while my readers may be few, I feel so much companionship and honest caring. I don't mind coming here and letting you all know that Spencer has an MRI tomorrow and I am scared stiff. In case you didn't read this post about Spencer's recently found brain condition, he may have what's called acqueductal stenosis. Basically the fourth lobe of his brain, behind his right ear, is very large and is pushing his spinal cord slightly forward. This MRI is a six month checkup to see if it has changed. Right now, thank the Lord, he is not affected by it and it's a watch and see situation. I am hopeful tomorrow I will be told the same.
I do have to mention that my lifeline through all of this is my sister, Tanya. I know she loves Spencer like her own and having lost a child herself to cancer, I could not have a better listener or shoulder to cry on. I seriously have no idea what I would do without her unwavering support. She is one in a million and God gave her to ME for a sister!
We accept all prayers and good thoughts. Thank you for caring!
An old but cute picture of Spencer riding his first big wheel (**gasp**) in the kitchen.