A Roller Coaster Life

Life is full of twists. I have been reminded of this many times throughout the years, but none more shockingly than this week.

My girls and I were holidaying in the North, with extended family. Mr Catch had begged off, exhausted by work, and unable to face more travel. He just wanted to potter around our home, sleeping in and watching movies.

Our sons hadn't come North either. They were reluctant to spend their days being dragged into girly shops by their mother and sisters, in the guise of fun. When Mr Catch suggested a few days camping at nearby Stradbroke Island instead, they had put up their hands shamefully fast.

Stradbroke Island is paradise. Honestly. Look at this image (not mine) for proof.

You can't imagine not enjoying it there, right?  So, it was a concern for us all when Middle Son was suddenly tired all the time. He wouldn't participate in the beach fun, just slept and complained of pain in his legs. On their return, there was a doctors visit, a blood test and a diagnosis of leukemia.

The news was a shock, so very, very hard to take in. My flight back, in the dark, early morning, felt surreal, a divider between two worlds. It was a very sharp turn on the roller coaster.

We try to remember that we are lucky in so many other ways. Family and friends have enveloped us in love. I thank them from the bottom of my heart. The hospital has been wonderful too. The doctors and nurses are so knowledgeable and professional. We are in the best of hands.

In the midst of this nightmare, writing was shelved. Especially on the blog. What could I say? How much to tell? Was it appropriate? What was the point?

Until one afternoon, when I was with Middle Son as he lay on his bed, looking at previous entries here. As the chemotherapy was coursing through his veins, he was laughing at the stories, remembering good times and peaceful moments. It made me pause.

Afterwards, we had a very interesting conversation.

My son pointed out that keeping his illness a secret would be like trying to hide an elephant. And as his treatment will be for a couple of years, that's a long time to keep an elephant hidden. He wanted things to continue as normally as possible. And he likes reading my blog.

As we talked more, we also realised that, along with strawberry milkshakes and island paradises, this illness is life too. And more than ever, we need to find laughter and sweetness in our days. 

This blog won't become a medical blog or an information site for leukaemia (although, I'm sure many of you will have stories to share and both my son and I would love to hear them). It will continue to be a record of all that makes life good, a reminder to be appreciative of moments of joy and love. Even as we plough through the rubbish.

I'm usually a strict ground-dweller when it comes to fair rides, but with this, there's no choice.

So, lovely readers, fasten your seat belts, take some Kwells and hang on to the safety bars with me.

After this, the Big Dipper will be a breeze.

Mrs Catch
xxx