Hold On

I feel like I'm slipping away from myself. Gravity has become null and whatever it was that had tethered me to reality is disintegrating. I'm watching our lives through a film of disbelief and agony that I can't quite wipe clean. Tessa had responded so well to the steroids. She was running around and smiling, laughing and alive! Then two nights ago her toe started to hurt again. Casey and I tried to brush it off, saying it didn't mean anything, but fear blossomed deep in my heart. The next night she needed morphine again for the first time in over a week. And then last night we all sat up for hours holding her as she cried. The pain in back in her knees and toes. As I look at her eyes, glazed over from the morphine, I want to scream and weep. It feels as though the delicate fabric of hope that we had begun to piece together with each day that she was able to run and smile has been torn from beneath us. My spirit is in tatters. How long can a person endure so much? Watching the tears roll down my baby's cheeks, the cries that go on so long they begin to crowd out anything else in your head, each one searing it's way across your brain. You endure it as long as you have to. My girl. My beautiful tortured girl. Someone please save her.

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