Hockey players talk in periods, so quick update on William’s first intermission.
The first period is over. Iron Heart’s large “weed” (as Grandpa calls it) was fully removed and confirmed by MRI. He’s already building his new Lego Audi (with his left hand again, two days after brain surgery) around his physical therapy and progressing beautifully with his recovery. He also got a nice visit from Mystic, a large black Newfoundland.
The MRI suite couldn’t believe his calm (both times). The surgeons and OR staff raved about William’s bravery talking and smiling before surgery – and that they’ve never seen a little boy smile as he was closing his eyes before go-time. This boy’s faith and strength has rocked me to my core, and he’s epitomized his name sake of “warrior”. I’ve shared how many people are thinking and praying for him and he smiles, often raising his iron fist (something him and Dad have done since this started). If the peace and calm I’ve felt is from the faith of a mustard seed, his is the faith and quiet strength of a mountain – and I know this boy will move mountains.
I love Victor Frankl’s book Man’s Search for Meaning and vividly recalled one of his favorite quotes that I saw epitomized by my seven-year-old son:
“The experiences of camp life show that man does have a choice of action. There were enough examples, often of a heroic nature, which proved that apathy could be overcome, irritability suppressed. Man can preserve a vestige of spiritual freedom, of independence of mind, even in such terrible conditions of psychic and physical stress.
We who lived in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”
Watching my little boy choose to smile, fist bump, and color/divide hearts for his family, I witnessed firsthand a bravery and character that Frankl wrote about; a faith, hope, and love almost unimaginable given the circumstances.
For those that have shared they cannot imagine what this feels like as a parent – I cannot relay how dramatic of an understatement that is having now been on both sides of this issue. When the physicians close the door and you hear the word cancer as a parent, the world looks different immediately – and perspective comes into focus instantly. Words and phrases like “faith”, “adversity”, and “focus on what you can control” have much deeper meanings.
Crying and praying alone in the chapel on my knees at Peyton Manning Children’s Hospital in Indianapolis was not part of my plan last week, but here we are. Still, there is a sense of warmth and calm that I’ve felt and continues to grow within Naomi and me. Words cannot express our gratitude for the outpouring of support, thoughts, and prayers.
The song “I Am Not Ok” has taken on a new meaning over the last few days.
“I am not okay
I’m barely getting by
I’m losing track of days
And losing sleep at night
I am not okay
I’m hanging on the rails
So if I say I’m fine
Just know I learned to hide it well
I know, I can’t be the only one
Who’s holding on for dear life
But God knows, I know
When it’s all said and done
I’m not okay
But it’s all gonna be alright
It’s not okay
But we’re all gonna be alright”
The second and third periods (to remove the other small weeds) are ahead and will be a journey, but the faith I have – and witnessed in Iron Heart – “we’re all gonna be alright”
I am forever changed by this young man.
William. My son. My hero. My Iron Heart
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