My Little Boy is Sick

I'll admit I'm not myself today. Corbett, our six-year-old, who has been sick for almost four weeks, took a turn for the worst last Monday.

Constant visits to our amazing pediatrician (who's a dear friend) and a round of hospital tests have ruled out cancer and other life-threatening illnesses. For that Kent and I rejoice!

Sadly, Corbett still has high fevers, a rash that morphs, an intensely sore throat, an ultra stuffy nose, pulsing headaches, and general malaise. He's too ill to play, even to color.

He eats just a little. He's tiny and pale. He cries and wants to know when he'll be better. He's sleepy but only can sleep when given Codeine. He's tired of being sick and tired of swallowing what he calls, "the bad, yucky, awful, scary, worst medicine ever."

We tell him he's brave and that we admire him. We talk about all the things we'll do once he's well and strong again. He breaks our heart and makes even (and especially) his daddy cry.

It's definitely a viral illness. The doctor confirmed the battery of tests prove it's Mono even though the initial test came back negative. Of course, that means there's no cure. There's just medicine to try to mask the symptoms so they can be endured. I didn't know Mono was so painful. I'm learning a lot.

Despite it all, I truly understand how fortunate we are in this situation. Although Corbett will have a tough few months, he'll emerge fine. It's comforting to know I can mark the weeks off the calendar until he's well.

I'm not new to watching someone I love suffer. Experience just doesn't make it any easier. As a young bride of 22, my late husband was diagnosed with cancer the week of our first wedding anniversary. We battled the beastly disease for five years before losing our war.

The experience was grueling, heartbreaking, and too much to bear some days. I endured solely by purposing in my heart to persevere. I determined I would emerge from the other side of the grief a person changed, but for the better. I became more resilient and more thankful. I endured for me, for my late husband's memory, and as testimony to the power of prayer even when the answer is the one we most dread.

With that said, I can't imagine what it's like for a parent to watch their little ones suffer with life threatening and altering illnesses. It's my deepest fear. I feel deeply for those walking that too sad path.

Spending Wednesday at the children's hospital, I glanced into the faces of other worried parents passing by me in the lab, in the ER, and in the halls. We didn't say anything, but we nodded. Those nods communicated everything: "This is scary; this isn't right; this needs to be over."

For now, I'll continue to hold my little guy with thankfulness for the gift he is to me. I'll keep pouring juice, drying his tears at 3:00 AM, and telling him how much I admire and love him.

He is my pleasure. He is one of my grace-filled prizes for persevering all those years ago.