Stoic

There are no pictures from today’s appointment.  Tate was visibly distressed while we were discussing upcoming treatments with his doctor.  The amount of intense chemotherapy still to come is substantial, and Tate was devastated.  I left my camera turned off out of respect for Tate’s feelings and because some things are sadder than you want to remember.

I cannot pretend to understand what Tate is going through or how he feels; I can only share our days from my perspective.  I look at my son; bald, thin, confined to a wheelchair, and struggling to regain use of his hands, and I am so proud of him.  In the last 3.5 months he has endured more than most will in a lifetime, and today he found out his treatment basically starts over again from the beginning.  All the chemo, all the shots, all the spinal taps – he has to do it all again.  It might be easier if he complained or cried or got angry, but he never does.  Instead, Tate seemed to steel himself against what is to come, insisting we stop for Sonic cheeseburgers and corn dogs on the way home.