This is what Delayed Intensification looks like:
And it looks like this when you’re having some pretty spicy unhappiness about getting your port accessed, so your dad says if you can do it without crying at all and staying totally calm he’ll buy you anything in the world, thinking you’ll choose nachos from Maverik and instead you choose a giant freaking teddy bear at Costco:
So many great things, even in a low point of this whole treatment. A couple of hard things – some pain in his legs that freaked us out a little but is no big deal, a tiny fever that made us react like his brain had fallen out of his head, and lots of shakiness and steroid-fueled spaziness. Probably no school for the next four weeks or so, his numbers are expected to be pretty low, and he will feel weak. But every day is another day.
So much good, too.
Wendy wrote this on the Facebook and Instagram today. It’s perfect:
“We rarely get to go back and relive a phase in life. But I feel like this phase of chemo has given me a second chance at the phase where you take naps with tired little ones and don’t get much on the to do list done in a day. This time around I have a different perspective. I’ve learned so much having raised my kids to this point. I miss the days where I don’t leave the house and we bake pumpkin chocolate chip cookies together. I wouldn’t wish cancer on anyone but I think I can say that in some ways what we are going through is SO good. So sweet. So deep. I love my people differently now. We are five months into a fight the Inkley’s didn’t want and wouldn’t trade what we’ve gotten for anything. We have a family creed and one of the lines says Inkley’s stay to the end. It can mean lots of things like staying to help clean up after a party or staying to the very end of a football game. But we are staying to the end of this experience with cancer. Together. And -today- we love it.”
Guys, don’t get cancer. But if you do, make sure Wendy Elmer Inkley is your mom. She makes everything ok, even Delayed Intensification.