Letters to My Son: From Loss to Hope 💛

Chapter One: Nick's Diagnosis

Thank you for joining me in Letters to My Son: From Loss to Hope. This is my exploratory memoir-in-progress about losing my son to leukemia and how I came back to hope and a life of joy. Because of the vulnerable nature of this writing and opportunity for Outsider Witness feedback, this is for paid subscribers only.

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Content Warning: Loss of a child, cancer, grief

Nick, 12, taken a day after diagnosis at family gathering. (photo by author)

Chapter One: Nick’s Diagnosis

Friday, July 4, 2008

Through the glass shower door, I saw Luke. Someone from Albany Medical Center had called about Nick. I shut the water. In that shower I was a mom of two amazing boys, a wife of a husband so opposite of me that we were two halves of a whole, an author of one book, owner of a publishing company, editor of a magazine, and so much more that was joyous and good.

As I stepped out of the shower, my world tilted.

We had to get Nick to the hospital. Something was wrong with his blood.

We should have been walking to the July 4^th parade so Nick, 12, and Stephen, 10, could watch the parade and collect candy.

Plans changed.

While Stephen got to ride on a fire truck, we loaded Nick into the car. As Luke and I drove to the hospital, Nick sat in the backseat bummed that he had to miss the parade but seemingly unconcerned as he peered out the window. When Nick asked what I thought was wrong, I chewed the inside of my mouth. Pulling my shoulders down from my ears, I kept my voice light, not wanting him to go where my mind had already gone. I told him that I didn’t know but we would find out and handle it together.

We entered a bland area of the emergency room and sat in a small room that had a bed, counter with a sink, medical supplies, cabinets on the wall and a couple of chairs. The acrid scent of bleach and hand sanitizer burned my nostrils. Nick sat on the end of a cold, cushioned table, his muscular body crinkling the thin protective paper under him, his legs dangling off the end, still carefree and hopeful. Luke leaned against the counter, arms crossed. I sat on a chair next to Nick, my hand on his leg.