Maybe the mind is the last thing to heal.
I’ve found myself unexpectedly slipping these last couple days; at least, mentally, for brief intervals losing what I would call the essence of “me.” I’ve snapped at Heidi for making fun of my driving directions; at Brody for spilling two sodas at a baseball game.
I’ve had to drive myself to the gym and crank, really crank – or yesterday, hit the pavement and run – to reconnect the pieces.
Because what’s left is all the little unseen things. It’s about trying to slip back into the normal pace after 3 weeks away from it. It’s about realizing that your son looks fine on the outside, but that he still can’t walk up a ramp, or sit on my shoulders, without getting exhausted. It’s that my 3-year-old daughter is stronger than my 6-year-old son.
It’s about all those little fears: What if the healing stops here?
That’s not the way it’s going to be; but those are the things that nag at you.
***
I climbed 175 stories of stairs today in 30 minutes. That’s not a typo.
And after I did it, I felt better.
From there, the day just kind of fell into place.
I took my mom and the family out to dinner. We went out for Indian food which, our kids, surprisingly, love. Beckett chowed down. Brody ate well, too.
Then we went to the press screening of Rango; the new animated Johnny Depp western. Totally awesome; and funny.
The day ended with some reading and hugs and kisses. And now this.
I don’t want to go on tonight. I spend too long at computer screens as it is throughout the week. I like to try to stay in the real world on weekends.
Cheers,
Ed, Heidi, Beckett and Brody
Bacon and Candy 
one of the things i’ve learned in the last 2.25 years, about 2.25 years after my wife was diagnosed with breast cancer, is that there is no “slipping back into the normal pace.” it’s more about figuring out what the new pace is, and slipping into that. fear? fear is for pussies. it will nag at you, but so do other things and other people. block them out. revel in the good times. like indian food and rango. or, masturbating, and/or sneaking away from the family for some vicodin mixed with caffeine and beer. different strokes for different folks. my advice: stick to the cartoons. they’re better for you. and you won’t wind up in a public cafe with potato chips all over your lap like i have all over me right now.
My heart goes out to you guys and all that Beckett is going through. Such a tough little man! I can’t wait to see you this weekend and give you all a big hug.