|I could take this picture every day|
Eli and I were early for his appointment with clinic on Tuesday after the time had been changed to an hour later than scheduled. I fed him applesauce while he distracted himself with a video game trying to get something, anything at this point, in his belly for lunch. We were waiting to hear if his oncologist decided to pull his hickman line out despite his struggles with eating. Though his treatment was done, the line remained because it was used for the nutritional solution that sustained him. When his name was finally called an hour past the revised time, we went through the door to stand by the white board where the nurses assign rooms to the kids by writing their names by a number. Our path was blocked by a gathering of people, so we slid along the wall to take our place beside the board in the narrow hallway to wait. To avoid staring at the commotion of the small group that we were smooshed up against, I glanced at the board beside us and his name was not there yet. So, I looked down and around as Eli flew a U.S. Navy jet toy in his immediate air space. Eli’s doctor stepped into the hallway from a door directly behind the group and asked quietly to the group, “Maybe go to another room or something, is there one?” His nurse, who had summoned us, was jumbled in her thoughts, “Yes, we can. No wait, I’ve got Eli, too, he’s here. Hang on, let me see,” she told him as she motioned for us to follow her. When I looked up, a mother whose face was frozen in agony stood an arm’s length from me. I didn’t hear her news, but I did not have to.
|Eli and Vic (and Caleb) playing frisbee at th retreat|
|The walk up to the Natural Bridge|
|The oldest jail in Alabama|