I’m back here in Columbus with Jennifer. She is still making others on the transplant floor look bad as she has rolled through day +8 now without fever or vitals being an issue. Her and I went to the support group meetings they have here for patients and caregivers. The nurse and social worker were amazed someone at day +8 allogeneic BMT  (meaning non related donor) was up and going to a support group meeting.

Having said that, I can tell you Jen is feeling fatigued. She still cannot overcome this cough and she told me this evening she just can’t get comfortable and rest like she wants. She fought tears back while telling me this. So now I’m on a mission to find her some relief. I pride myself in being persistent. …. aka Momma Bear.

We found blessings everywhere we could find them today, …maybe more me than her. Her grandparents stopped in Columbus on their way back from Florida.  It is the first she has seen her grandpa since her diagnosis and first she has seen grandma since early December.

I also found a blessing or maybe knowledge I needed to find today at the support group meeting.  I had questioned us going as I thought maybe Jen would just want to rest. But we went. There have been times,  I hope for Jen to be excited about something or looking to go do something she has been wanting to do. I want the world for her and will move mountains to make it happen. But sometimes as I am spinning circles moving mountains, she just wants to stop, rest, and heal. For a while even small things can seem overwhelming.  Reading text messages and responding,  opening a card, calling her insurance company, or filling out a form. I find myself repeating to her what needs done like a mom of a teenager. I actually realized this has been ongoing for nearly a year. Which makes me wonder how long she fought low counts and fatigue. I thought before cancer this was due to laziness. After her diagnosis I thought it was a sign of her surrendering to her illness. I was wrong on both counts.”   It is cancer, chemo, and healing. I needed to learn that.

So prayers tonight for a quieted cough, less fatique, and patience on my part. She will get through all this. And so will I.


I sit her in this dark room, listening to the sound of oxygen pushed through a tube. To the sounds of iv ticks, I didn’t know existed not so long ago. To the sound of Jennifer quietly whimpering in her sleep as she tries to breath.

The tiny tree glows in the corner of her room. I haven’t put the decorations back on because I fear I will angrily pull them off if they move her to another place in the hospital. But I let the light fill the room and refuse to unplug it even as we sleep.

I try to wrap my head around tonight why she must suffer like this. And why I must watch. Why I am apart from so many I love in this room the nurse says they try to make it feel and look like home. She doesn’t know what she is talking about. The nurses want me to not stand close by and attend to her every need but who are they kidding? What else would a mom do in a time like this?

I try to not scream when I hear or read someone complain about something to me now seems so trivial. Why can’t they see how blessed they are? I want to be blessed in this moment the same.

God forgive me for my doubt and anger. I am trying to trust. But I’m hurting like nothing I’ve ever known