Drinking Butterflies And Buzzing Bees.

posted by on 12/09/2010 | 206 comments (leave one of your own)

Over the last week, I’ve received emails and messages that followed along the same theme: “Where are you?” I don’t think I’ve ever excused myself from this space for so long without an explanation, but sometimes, whether it’s here or my actual reality, things are just too hard to share. I worry it won’t come out right and I know that allowing it to tumble out into the universe, through typing or speaking, makes it real.

When he had his trouble in June, it was discovered Troy had an extremely low white blood count. He was diagnosed with neutropenia and he is now under the care of a children’s hematologist that we see when we get off an elevator and step onto the seventh floor, for seven is the cancer and blood disorder floor.  Troy is currently getting his blood drawn and evaluated twice a week for the next six weeks, a serial complete blood count, or as they like to say, he goes to “give the butterfly a drink”.


Last Wednesday, while tucked into our bed between us, he had a seizure.  When it was over and Jeff scooped him up, he had lost consciousness.  I ran for the phone, the panicked buzzing of one thousand bumble bees filled my ears silenced only by my own high pitched, hysterical screaming.  As Jeff laid Troy on the carpet in the living room, his mouth blue and his face was oh so white and gray, I thought he was gone.  I stood over them as Jeff started chest compressions, pleading with the emergency operator, with Jeff, with Troy, with the angry buzzing bees.


He has not had another seizure and his MRI was normal.  Under my watchful eye for the last week, I am quick to say that he’s going to be fine.  As a parent, we have to hold onto that.  I imagine we never stop holding onto that, even when our children are grown because if we let our mind wander to where they aren’t fine, to where the bees buzz, it’s bigger than all of us.

I am not fine; I am scared.

Scared of what the butterflies might find, scared of the bees coming back, scared that love can’t protect my kids fully from either.


This is where I’ve been, where I am.

And hopefully, very soon, things will start looking up.


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