I miss my kids

Jossilyn is still not feeling very good today. I miss being home. I miss our normal life. The rest of the kids were here last Thursday. It is nowhere near enough.


Kaylin and Josie like all the toys here.


Jacob has grown since I brought Jossilyn to the hospital. He was still shorter than me when we came in. Now he is taller than me and STILL growing. He loves chess. He learned how to play when he was five and could beat me without my "helping" him within 6 months. He is 14 now and he still loves strategy games.

He is also silly.




This is Josie learning chess while Jacob and my mother play.

I feel like so much of our time together has been robbed from her because of this rotten disease. She asks for me every day. And says, "Jossilyn get better soon so she and Mommy can come home."

I hope so. I hope so.

We have been down this road before. Jossilyn and I have talked about whether it is better or worse this time. On one hand, there is less fear of the unknown because we have been here before. On the other, there is a sense of dread because we know what we are in for. To a degree, that is. You can't ever really know what to expect because her condition can (and does) change in a matter of moments.

There is also the knowledge that her chances of cure are even less this time than they were last. The numbers suck. I try not to think about the numbers because in my reality it is 100%. Either it works or it doesn't.

Joss is so frustrated. "It's not fair! I shouldn't have to do this again."

She is right. It is not fair. But here we are again.

She knows her options. I wanted her to know that this is her choice and if she didn't think she could do this again, we would all respect her choice. (As difficult as it may be.) But there was no question in her mind. "I am not ready to die , Mom. But it still isn't fair."

It is so not fair on so many levels. But if anyone can do it, Jossilyn can.