I don’t think that I will ever breath easy again. The panic attacks are back with a vengeance and I can’t control them. I don’t see things that have happened but things that could happen. Since Gage was diagnosed back in August of last year, we have had to be prepared for the worst. And by worst I mean I have his funeral planned out. I know nobody wants to hear this but it’s truly been my way of coping with his leukemia. Sitting nervously in the waiting room at three o’clock in the morning not sure if he was going to make it out of surgery, I prepared myself. What Gage would wear, what the Hubs and I would wear, the colors. I knew then that no matter what since Gages life was such a joy and celebration to us, his funeral would be the same. A party in his honor, a celebration of his life.
It’s with a cold detachment that, when I think of it all, almost like it’s not happening to me. Like it’s not my baby. We all tend to think because he is doing so well right now, that he will continue to do well. Which is what I am begging for, because I truly do not know what I would do, if anything were to happen to him. But that can all change at the drop of a hat, he can end up sick and in the hospital, or worse. His life is just so unpredictable right now, as a family we don’t take a single day of Gage for granted. Which means he is going to be so spoiled because we can’t seem to say no to him, or take away his bottle.