On our pillows, in the basin of wate when he bathes, at the back of his shirt and on the plate when he eats….
It has begun and although its not as drastic as I’ve seen it to be on the tv screen or the movies, its just as devastating as I was told it would be.
My son has started to lose his hair and as much as I try to brave him for it, all he could ask was when his hair was going to come back. He won’t even entertain the idea of shaving it all off to save him the hearbreak of seeing his hair deteriorate right before his eyes, like he could understand how that meant at all.
Tears swell up as I pick up the strands of hair from the back of his shirt one by one, nonchalantly doing it without seeming fixated as we watch a movie, eat a burger or drive in the car.
“My son’s chemo is working, we’re nearing the end of his treatments,” these are the things I tell myself when I feel like cying. “He can’t see you crying over falling hair, how do you think he’d feel?”
He’s five years old and he has to go through this. I’m praying very hard he doesn’t remember how hard this is, I hope he just recalls how loved he has been throughout this ordeal.
We’re on chemo break this week so I’m taking him on a picnic as he requested. He wants me to make not maanghang tuna sandwich, bake pie and bring him juice (for some odd reason, my son is really impressed with my “cooking” skills, you know). I’m taking my ECG, stress and bone density tests too while Mio’s away from the hospital this week just to be sure I’m not sick of anything too, what with the sleepless nights throughout the first month of the year and heartburn attacks. I can’t afford not to work and its so hard to make ends meet.
I really feel like crying. Its 5am and I’m up working. Thankfully my son is sound asleep with my parents. He’s so uncomfortable I just want it all to go away.