While looking through one of my old spiral notebooks this afternoon, I found this little stream-of-conscience piece I had written while waiting at the children’s hospital with my family for results on my youngest son, Christoper’s MRI results on the remnants of his brain tumor. I’d forgotten I’d written this!

Since it was just a spur-of-the-moment thing, I failed to write down the date that I created it. Considering this was a time when I was still married, I’m guessing this note was sometime between 2014 and 2020.

I found this very short message somehow touching and visceral, so I decided to share it here with you all, my friends from all over the world.

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As I wait with my son and husband to be called back to one of the patient rooms, my body is a walking zombie with dopey (? can’t read) and sleeping waves rolling through me.

Christopher waits patiently to find out, as do his dad and I, what his MRI results are.

Yellows, oranges, and reds across from us with an astronaut posing with arms outstretched to take off any minute.

A blue sky with wispy clouds frame the silver suit flaming reds and blues.

Makeshift wings stand alert, unfolded and bold at his sides.

A blue screen sixty feet across sleeps, displaying no images. Is this a resting mini-theater scheduled for future shows?

Several images representing flying. Flying high, soaring, reaching, transcending illness, challenges, pain, and crossing over to healing an all-encompassing healing of soul and body.

Flying correlates with a sense of spiritual ascendency.

But truly, if I close my eyes, I could fall right to sleep.

This Valium affects me like never before, and not just takes off the anxious edge, but this time, it’s created a drowsiness where everything, including me, moves in slow motion, like those running on film that is slowed down, and the person’s arms and legs rotate like the gears of a clock running out of batteries.

Hopefully, soon, we shall be sitting in the patient room hearing something akin to no change or dissipated remnant. Only God knows.

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In 2020, my son’s brain tumor disappeared. He’d had it since he was an infant (don’t know the exact point it appeared and grew in his head, but he was diagnosed with the brain tumor attached to his brain stem in 2003 when he was 13 months old). We were so surprised when the doctor said the tumor was gone, I remember. I nearly couldn’t speak. However, it was welcome news and joy grew inside me and life changed at that moment for Christopher and the whole family. Thank you, God!

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