This is the month that opens the wound with one swift bite.
Flashbacks.
Restless nights.
Foggy days.
Broken heart aches.
Tears.
So many tears.
Today alone, I was observing a physio demonstration and - FLASH - I was back in the physio room with Brooklyn, urging her to step up and down, up and down. Her wound fresh, her pain intolerable.
At dinner, Brooklyn mentioned the show Little Charmers to her brother and - FLASH - I was back in her tiny private bathroom with her, watching the show, listening to her singing away while she tried to get her bowels moving after surgery.
I opened up Facebook and read a post about a new comic book themed around conquering the dreaded MRI machine and - FLASH - there we are, again. And again. And later this spring, again.
My local childhood cancer support group sent an invitation for a pre-valentine's baking event to surprise families in hospital and - FLASH - it's Valentine's Day, we're decorating cupcakes delivered by child life to our room and cutting hearts to adorn her IV pole.
Brooklyn just called for me, it's been an hour since I said goodnight but she's still awake - FLASH - I'm back in her room, dark and buzzing, feeling more alone and terrified than I ever imagined possible.
This is real life, returned.
Three years ago this Sunday, Brooklyn was diagnosed with cancer.
Neuroblastoma. Stage One.
Unfortunately this time of year brings it all back.
It hurts all over again.
It torments my days and nights.
My thoughts, my dreams.
And while Brooklyn is a survivor, and life continues to present itself with joyous moments, tremendous blessings and so much love, cancer still lives here.
So the tears, they will fall.
But I promise to keep going. I continue to quietly hold the hands of every childhood cancer parent, old and new, as we navigate this journey together.
#teambrookie #warriorprincess #childhoodcancer #survivor
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