I’m not sure if it has been a long time or not. Life is funny that way. Sometimes time expands, and other times, everything collapses into a single moment. Eli is now off treatment, and has officially reached “survivor” status. He has withstood hospitalizations, surgeries, infusions, transfusions, injections, medications, reactions, decline, recovery, and is now on the other side—strong, healthy, and full of curly hair again.
Do we stop to look back or just move on? It’s not so simple. Diagnosis and treatment encapsulated some of the most formative years of Eli’s youth, so although the details and chronology of everything are sometimes vague, there are sharp recollections that come up often. And we have to meet them head on—to understand what he, what we as a family, endured. The long-term effects of treatment are a reality that we are still working through and will most likely work through individually for the rest of our lives. This experience has reshaped our perspectives, affected both physical and emotional health, and challenged us in ways that are indescribable. Yet, through it we can celebrate the moments of joy, thank God that Eli is with us, marvel at the strength that family and community provides, and take each day, each moment, one at a time.
I sit here considering this week’s follow-up evaluations. He’s doing great. Are there risks in the future? Yes, as there would be with anyone. What are any of us guaranteed? In this moment, the sun is shining, the sounds of video games pervade the house by our survivor, and we can rest. And for this moment, that is enough.
bELIeve in hope 