Being a Parent

My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Picoult. Page 229

When I first became a parent I used to lie in bed at night and imagine the most horrible succession of maladies: the bite of a jellyfish, the taste of a poisonous berry, the smile of a dangerous stranger, the dive into a shallow pool. There are so many ways a child can be harmed that it seems nearly impossible one person alone could succeed at keeping him safe. As my children got older, the hazards only changed: inhaling glue, playing with matches, small pink pills sold behind the bleachers of the middle school. You can stay up all night and still not count all the ways to lose the people you love.

It seems to me, now that this is more than just a hypothetical, that a parent falls one of two ways when told a child has a fatal disease. Either you dissolve into a puddle, or you take the blow on the cheek and force yourself to lift your face again for more. In this, we probably look a lot like patients.

Even though Patrick's illness is not really life threatening I still understand the above. We have a dr. appt Monday to listen again to the fact that his tumor is back. Once again we will have to deal with surgeries and all that goes with it. I wonder like most parents if there is something that I could have done differently. I want to dissolve into a puddle, but I stick my chin out and ask for more. What else can I do?