As I walk through the back door removing all my layers of warmth, I can hear the television. Mom is watching a re-run of In the Heat of the Night, one of her favorite shows. When I’ve stripped down to my work clothes, I head toward the sound of the old tv show.
“How is he?” I ask as I take a seat on the old, worn-down, brown couch that Mom made me bring up from the basement.
“No fever. A little drained but nothing too bad.” She begins packing her yarn and knitting needles in her bag to return to her side of the building. “Lois will be picking me up for work in the morning, so you can use the car,” she says as she kisses the top of my head.
“Thanks, Ma,” I call out as she closes the door that separates the two living spaces. I sit for a few minutes before checking in on my boy.
I see the dimmed light from his bedside lamp that lets me know he’s reading a book. Peeking through the two-inch crack between the door and its frame, Lake is laying on his belly reading a book.
I slowly open the door. “Hey, bud, whatcha reading?” I know it’s The Cat in the Hat because it’s his favorite.
“Hey, Dad. It’s my favorite,” he replies as he sits up, bringing the book with him, holding it up so I can see the cover.
“Well, it’s time for bed. We have quite a drive in the morning and a long afternoon,” I remind Lake as I pry the book out of his hand. “Did you brush your teeth?” He nods as I pick him up, hugging him tightly. His wiry arms wrap around my neck, and I just hold his frail, little body for a few minutes.
“Daddy, you’re squeezing my life out.” He tries to wiggle out of my embrace.
“You mean the life out of you?” We both giggle as I loosen my arms.
“That’s what I said!” he exclaims as I hold him with one arm, pulling his Spiderman blanket and matching flat sheet back.
“Okay, big guy, it’s sleep time.” I lower him to his bed. Just before I tuck him in, I tickle his belly. His laugh is infectious. It is always beautiful to hear. Kissing his forehead, I turn to leave.
“Dad, we forgot to say our prayers!” Lake exclaims. I stop, turning back to him as he slides out of bed to kneel beside it. I join him as we clasp our hands and bow our heads.
“Dear God, thank you for this day. Thank you for giving me such a good Dad and nice Nana. She lets me have chocolate when I’m not feeling good. Please watch over them. Watch over Papa Richard and my mom. She is in Paris, so she needs some looking after. Help my dad find his true love. Help the doctors find a donor. Please make sure we safely make it to the hospital. Amen.”
My heart breaks every night as my boy asks for a donor. He says the same prayer for me to find a true love every night, as well. I behold my son who has been through so much, yet has so much love in his heart. I kiss his head again before he nestles back into his bed.
Before I walk away, I stand in the doorway looking at this beautiful boy who once had blond hair. He inherited my eyes. Except for the dullness, his always seem so much brighter.
I’m not sure how much time I have with him. Lake has C-ALL (Childhood Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia). He was diagnosed at four years old. He started running a fever and falling asleep quite often. Mom thought it might have been the flu in the beginning. But after of few days, my son got worse. We found a huge lump under his armpit, and I knew in my heart there was something wrong. So, we rushed him to the nearest hospital about twenty minutes out of town.
After all the typical and routine tests were completed, the head pediatrician and a pediatric oncologist were called in, and they took us to a private room and broke the devastating news. I looked over at my mother who was sobbing in disbelief as I was broken hearted. They said it was in its pretty early stages and wanted to start chemotherapy as soon as possible. I felt like I was in some sort of alternate universe. They had Lake transferred to the children’s hospital about two and a half hours away. We were there for a long while, and I watched my rambunctious little guy turn into a mere shell of himself. His hair fell out; he couldn’t hold anything down. My soul shattered until the news came that his cancer was in remission, and he slowly began to return to my healthy little guy.
About two weeks ago, the day after Thanksgiving, my soul had been destroyed once again when another lump formed in his groin and one on his neck. We were informed the cancer was back and aggressive. He needs a bone marrow transplant; however, I am not a match—I had been tested the first go around. Neither were my mom or Mr. Grove. I have no clue if Cindy has been tested. She’s been out of the country for about a year now. I called when the cancer returned and had to leave a message. It’s been a few weeks, and I’ve heard nothing.