The talk
From the first day, I wondered how we would tell Liam about surgery. How do you look at a child and tell him he might never run again? How do you explain the options when all three of them are horrible compared to life as he knew it several months ago? When do you break the silence and explain that this surgery isn’t like most people’s surgery where you get cut open and zipped back shut and your body heals and there’s just a scar left to tell?
There’s not much time with osteosarcoma. You don’t get months to choose and make decisions and think through options. You get ten weeks of chemo and then a surgery that radically changes your life forever and then you get chemo for much longer.
Everything is so fast and so intense.
Turns out it’s a lot like teaching your kids about sex and birthing babies and other subjects we sometimes get squeamish about as parents. You give them what they’re ready for on their time table. God was so, so gracious to us and let us meet an osteosarcoma warrior who had limb salvage surgery and did miraculously well. Liam was taken aback by the size of her scar, but at that point he had no idea what the other options were.
And then the day came. “So what do they really do in surgery?” And just like that I knew it was time.
He was ready. I guess. When are you ever ready to hear about limb salvage surgery, rotationplasty, or amputation? Never. For sure not if you’re a twelve year old boy who lives and breathes movement, sports, adventure, and music. Name the sport and he played it. Almost. He loves ice hockey, skiing, swimming, baseball, football, ultimate frisbee, basketball, and soccer. He’s the kid who used to run a mile when he was six in the middle of the day during the hottest part of the summer, just because it was so much fun to run.
When do you ever get ready for this?
never
It was good to read your words again, as hard as they were to read. You all are in my prayers, often!
Thank you so much!