April 17, 2017

March 7^th, 2020. That is the date the doctors’ have given us for the projected finish of Calum’s treatment. Waiting for a day to arrive three years from now feels like a lifetime away. In fact, the whole process, once all said and done, will ironically have taken nearly exactly the length of Calum’s life to date. Unbelievable. By the time he is finished, he will have spent half his life undergoing chemotherapy. What an incredibly tough pill to swallow. We have known since the onset this would take three years, but seeing that actual date immediately exhausted me. It made me feel like I would be carrying 1000 pounds on my back every single day until then.

As we continue to process news, I pray for strength in not wanting to wish this whole time away. Anxiously counting down the days to the end of Calum’s treatment is no way to live, and I realize this may well be my greatest takeaway from this entire situation. I have always struggled with patience and, particularly, waiting. Of course no one really likes to wait, but I experience major anxiety with inefficiency and am almost always strategizing how I can get from A-to-B in the shortest amount of time. Here we are left with this date, and I am powerless in getting this done any faster. All I can do is slow it down, and try my best to enjoy the day to day happenings. Hell, we’ve got three years.  If Calum wants to take 47 minutes to eat a banana that he’s been holding without the peel on it, so be it. If Faye would like to put her own socks on, that’s just fine. From now on, I’ll be on the couch staring at her with profound patience. As soon as March of 2020 arrives, however, everyone better hurry the f*&k up and pack their bags because we’re going on vacation. Until then, I will take the advice my coach Missy Foote gave me and will “dig deep into my back pocket”. Unlike when conditioning in college though, I won’t be trying to go faster, I’ll just be trying to become at ease with slow.

In another two weeks, we will begin a 56-day treatment cycle consisting of a laundry list of combined chemotherapies which will ostensibly be the worst of what he will endure over the course of three years. It will almost definitely make his hair fall out and could likely land us back in the hospital for a stay, as the strength of these drugs really take their toll on the blood counts. He will be more open to infection, and not likely feeling his best. We will be hoping and praying he remains strong and reacts to these treatments as positively as he has the others.Please continue to keep Calum in your prayers and thoughts as we embark on this next tough cycle. I will keep you posted on our progress.