We are now nine weeks into this storm and we still don't have a prognosis. The hardest thing is when your fifteen year old son asks if dad is coming home. He also said, "who will take me to the football now?" This is one part of this storm I hate. I think I can be strong through all of this, but when I look at our son, I crumble. David, my husband was an only child and our fifteen year old is his only child too. I was married previously and had four children prior to meeting David, yet he treated my children like they were his own. But, David may never see his son get a job, get married, or have a family. David may not ever be a grandad, that hurts the most. This storm is tossing the whole family over trying to capsize us. We struggle to keep afloat, but I know that my God is with us. The waves pound us, yet we are still going strong. Today my husband is struggling to keep his blood pressure up as it's so low. He has lost six stone in nine weeks. My husband is half the man physically, yet double in spiritual strength. He is the stronger one and tries to reassure everyone he meets that The Lord has it all in his hand. Whatever the outcome, not only does David trust The Lord, but I do too. We are not travelling through this storm alone, because the Lord is our shepherd. He will guide even through the valley of the shadow of death. A shadow cannot harm us and that's all death is to us as Christians. I think what's the most frustrating part of all this is the fact that we still don't know what is at the end of the treatment. Has nine weeks, plus another two months if he survives, worth being away from each other? Nine weeks in a small room no bigger than a cupboard. I've never heard of anyone being in hospital so long. Only time will tell. But our storm is still brewing and we have yet to experience the calming breeze.
