Well, we got through the last chemo treatment of this cycle, and it went out with a bang, not a whimper. It was the first day of school, so I had to stay behind this time to take the boys. Cian started junior kindergarten and wanted mommy to be there even as excited as he was to finally be going to Quin's school. Kev's mom took him to chemo, but it was a rough go right from the start. He didn't want to go, was afraid of more side effects, afraid of the process, wary of the way the steroids that accompany the chemo make him feel. I try to understand, but I still need him to go, need him to continue the fight. It scares me when he says he's tired. Due to the long delays at sunnybrook I was able to join him for the last couple of hours of treatment. He seemed to be alright despite the bumpy start and we made it home without incident. As much as I always hope he won't be sick I am learning that that thought is futile. I was lulled into a false sense of security only to have that blown apart days later. I really had believed we has come through unscathed this time. We didn't.

September 10th was Ribbons of Hope day. I had my cousin come to look after the kids after their soccer cup day and made my way to Angus Glen. Raising money for Wellspring has always been important, but for obvious reasons, this year was much more personal. It was the tournament and auction that Connie, for the first time, was not there for. Her presence was felt, but sorely missed. It really scares me that someone like her who had so much fight, so much love, such a strong will could loose the battle. I ask the question why? all the time now. No matter how many times I ask however, it just isn't answered. I think I need to go back to Wellspring even if it's just to sit in the Ribbons of Hope peer support room. Connie's presence is very strong there, I always seem to leave feeling better, stronger. I spoke at the fundraiser this time, giving the caregiver perspective on Wellspring. It jut seemed very surreal standing there talking, that this was my experience. It made last year seem so very long ago, when my life was simple and Connie was laughing, passing me a glass of wine. Was it really just last year?

Scan day was Wednesday the 14th, and that was pretty uneventful. It seems like a cruel joke to make us wait until the 27th to get the results. Kev says he doesn't want to go to hear what they have to say. He wants me to go and then to let him know what happens. I know he will change his mind, that he's just frustrated with the process, knows the game changer is lurking. We know he had to go off this chemo, that the neurological effects were getting to bad, could be permanent. I think he's afraid of what comes next...what the next step will be. The path again is getting rocky. As long as we can keep our footing, hold onto each other to keep from stumbling, we have a chance of getting through it. I am trying to keep my eyes on the path, not to focus on the destination. I'm trying.