Is having no answer an answer?

Trip’s Methotrexate infusion finally finished yesterday. So far so good. He doesn’t seem to have much of an appetite, but that is normal for a chemo week. When the infusion finished and the machine beeped he yelled in delight, “Mom, we’re finished! We can go home!” He is used to the machine beeping and then we get to go home. Not this time. We have to flush the Methotrexate out of his body and no one really knows how long that will take. Leukemia patients get more of a dosage, so it might not take the three days it takes them to clear it but he has DI so it might take longer if he can’t pass the fluid as quickly as he should.

I tried to explain to him that the beep this time doesn’t mean we get to go home. Should my answer to him be, “Trip, with this chemo protocol we have to wait until the Methotrexate clears your blood. Because you have Diabetes Insipidus it is a little harder to manage because your kidneys don’t release fluid like they should. We have to wait and see how long it will take.” or should it be “We get to leave when they say so.”

My defeat in not knowing how to answer him led to a non-answer. Maybe my brain is fried or I’m just tired. Luckily he’s a trooper and goes with the flow other than occasionally telling the nurse, “I’m taking you down, Jennifer!” as Alvin says on Alvin and the Chipmunks. My lack of an answer to him didn’t greatly impact his demeanor.

I slept at home last night so I could get up this morning and work early and Colson stayed with Trip. On the way home I had a chance to meltdown in private. Seems like there is a big black cloud hanging around our friends. We have an LCH buddy who is fighting for his life after a bone marrow transplant last week. We have friends who were forced to say an early goodbye last weekend to the newborn they have been preparing for 9 months to take home. We have yet another friend who begins his third fight against cancer this week in hopes of staying around for his wife and kids. It’s almost too much for a heart to take. I don’t have an answer for any of us when I so desperately want one for all of us.

Why are these things happening to them, to us, to decent people who try to make a difference in this world? “It is the way it is.” Is that an answer? “I don’t know.” Is that an answer? Regardless, my demeanor in front of Trip needs to be as his was to me – no impact just because I don’t get an answer. I need to be strong and comforting to him even when I’m confused and need comforting myself.

My lesson of the day: accept that there aren’t always answers that make sense. This lesson may have to be re-learned over and over again because putting this into practice is harder than knowing what the lesson is.