Caleb's RSV vs. Hyrum's Tumor

 Some of you know that Caleb got RSV when he was a newborn- it was life changing for me, and I refer to the experience frequently. He suddenly stopped breathing, turned gray, was rushed in an ambulance to the hospital, and spent 10 days in Primary Children's hospital on a breathing machine. 

I can't help but reflect on that experience as we once again walk hospital halls. Obviously, our feelings change from hour to hour, and there's not just one comparison to be made. However, there's a really insistent metaphor that keeps coming to mind, and it might provide a general answer to the question, "How are you doing?"

Here are two of my most used kitchen bowls: my beautiful wooden fruit bowl and my sturdy soup pot. I love them both. When Caleb stopped breathing, I was that wooden bowl. You know that "refiner's fire" that the scriptures sometimes mention? Suffering, the unknown, loneliness, pain... That 10-day refining fire burned me. It took months for me to reconstruct my faith and just my overall sense of security in the world. 

I did it, though. I studied and prayed and wept and called friends who had known grief. After months of active reconstruction and with the help of a Savior and some added adult skills (better communication, more realistic expectations, increased ability to ask for help, etc.), I became a metal bowl. 

This fire will not burn me. It will not damage or destroy, like our minor Caleb fire did. Is that comforting? Yes.

Even still... it feels SO, so hot. 

It hurts SO, so bad. 

When I close my eyes, I see that white-hot heat meet the metal of my soul. The pain pulses through me, wild and reckless and raw. Just like metal conducts heat, so do I. I channel it into prayers, deep breaths, naps, writing, scripture study, stillness, outdoor walks, late-night talks, tight-fisted gardening, and many, many tears. Conducting this kind of pain is exhausting on every possible level, and I don't know when it will end.

I don't even know what tomorrow will be like. 

I just know we can do today.