Have you ever seen a cannon fire? Take a moment, if you would, to imagine the sheer force, the magnificent speed to an unknown trajectory, the decent….. you’d think that perhaps the impact point would be being given the news of her condition, while sitting in a darkened ER room, family having left, just the two of us and a semi sleepy darling at the age of 4. She reached out to me when I began to weep. She took my hand and said, “Mommy don’t cry.” Sounds cliché , I know, but it’s the truth. Yes, it was powerful to be sure, but it was the apex to the final destination. The moment of impact came after Dr. Sato had finished explaining the protocol and various specifics of Chemotherapy, to then slide across the table the sheaf of documents to sign. I was very surprised to find my self literally hurled backward, nearly upsetting my chair and myself with it. Though I had listened intently and nodded at all the appropriate times, I hadn’t realized I was floating around the situation with a surreal type of detachment, until that moment, when I was forcibly slammed back into my body and the tangible reality of the present moment. I began to shake and to cry. I just COULDN’T do it, I couldn’t put my hand to such an unimaginable horror, as I saw it to be. Drew on the other hand, must have seen it as a shining ray of hope, or something of the like, for he slid the papers before himself and diligently signed each indicated field. It was strange to have such a commingled feeling of revulsion and relief that he had done it. I think I would have fled, had I been facing it alone. It brings tears to my eyes even now. Chemo is such a burden to bear, and to be the responsible party, to make the decision for another, such an innocent light being, draws from the core a person. The weight is not easily shouldered, nor is it easily shifted. And so here we are, a month later, staying the course. Doing everything in our power to ease the toll taken on her little body and to allow her to remind us how to be light, smile, and to take joy in the little things. Bearing what she must, inspires me to bare something as well….. myself, to all of you. For what purpose I don’t claim to know, nor do I feel the need to know. It simply IS, just like her cancer and all the consequences thereof.