Thoughts from Natasha's Dad

Thoughts from Natasha’s dad… …

This journey started May 1st 2015.  Within this journey are many stories:

  • A young, healthy, active girl suddenly having to deal with an aggressive tumor growing in her brain, and all the physical, emotional, psychological and spiritual turmoil that brings.

  • A mother whose world turns upside down and embarks on a mission to save her child.

  • A father who has the instinct to serve and protect his children and who now finds himself in completely unchartered waters.

  • A brother who, in the midst of defining himself, is thrust into a whole new reality.

  • A close friend watching someone she loves become physically weaker and weaker.

  • A grandmother …

  • An uncle …

  • Cousins …, family friends…, teachers at school…

Natasha’s diagnosis has affected many people, most of all her.  Her desire to ‘go public’ vastly expanded the number of people touched by her story.  Natasha, and all her family, have experienced many blessings over the past 9 months.  The support, in its many forms, from people close and far has been astounding.

Part of my experience has been continually seeking a balance: holding on to hope, faith and belief in positive possibilities, while grappling with the gravity of Natasha’s disease.  I try, and often succeed, at seeing the positive – counting the blessings.

Not today.

Today Natasha had her fist treatment in this, her second, round of radiation therapy.  It was a tough go.  She came down with a cold a few days ago and is congested and feeling lousy.  She vomited just before getting ready to go the hospital.  Her tooth fell out while en route to the hospital (normal part of dental development).  She was assigned to a treatment room different than what she used last time. (it’s actually a better room, but she wasn’t up for something different).  Anyways, the day didn’t unfold as a set up for a successful first treatment.

Hard to see the positives.  Easy to see the negatives. 

I hate:

  • my daughter experiencing the emotional turmoil

  • my daughter experiencing her body become weaker and less reliable

  • the doctors saying they can only treat, not cure

  • the pressure and stress on all of us

  • she isn’t going to school

  • her going through arduous treatment, with no assurance of outcome

  • hearing my daughter calling out to me in desperation for the treatment to stop, – and not responding to her.

I’ve had friends say to me, “I can’t imagine how you are holding it together.”  I’m not always holding it together.  I’m not sure how I get from day to day.  Faith is part of it for sure.  As tenuous at it often seems, I trust in God.  Tomorrow, or the next day, will be easier to get through than today.  Later today, or tomorrow, Natasha will giggle.  Her giggle is nourishment.