Patrick consoling his youngest son Gage.
Patrick consoling his youngest son Gage.

This one is a bit of a tear-jerker. I apologize in advance.

Yesterday, Gage saw Lara for the first time since she came home from the hospital last Thursday. I led him into the bedroom and sat on the foot of the bed with him to give him an update on the situation. He already knew she’d beaten breast cancer. He also already knew she had a different kind of cancer this time. But he didn’t realize how dire it was this time. I’m sure in his mind he thought something along the lines of “She kicked ass last time…she can again!” So I explained to him that, unlike her breast cancer, there was no cure or surgery this time and that she wouldn’t get better.

I watched him stare intently down at the mattress, avoiding eye contact, saying nothing. I was fighting tears. Lara, fighting tears of her own asked, “Do you know what that means, Gagey?” He looked at her with pain and confusion and answered, “…not really.”

I looked at him, trying to get around the damn frog in my throat, and told him as softly and directly as possible, “It means it’s killing her, Buddy.”

He dropped his head again and then he darted off to his room. I made eye contact with Lara, both of us still fighting our tears, and told her that I didn’t know any other way to break it to him. She reminded me that the best advice we’ve been given about this exact moment was to be direct and honest. She told me I should go to him so I did.

I found him in his bed, sobbing under the blankets. We hugged and I told him that despite everything, I had a surprise for him and asked if he wanted to go back into the bedroom with Lara to see it. He did.

I told him that Aunt Allison had apparently found some of Inky’s long-lost relatives and had arranged for them to come to stay with us. The small one is Stinky and the big one is Bruce. Before too long, Gage had done the healthiest thing you can do in times like these: he chose happiness and started creating happy memories with Lara by playing with her, Inky, Stinky, and Bruce.

Sometimes parenting is really tough. Fuck cancer.

We are managing Lara’s pain as well as we can. After talking with the palliative care doctor yesterday, we’re changing Lara’s OxyContin to every 8 hours instead of every 12 with all other meds on the same schedule. She sleeps and meditates a lot also, just trying to get comfortable…or to get her pain anywhere below a 5. The increased frequency means she’s even more sleepy. She does her best and, like always, she’s far more dignified in these difficult days than I could ever dream of being. I love this woman!

Originally shared on Facebook.

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