Just then, the gunshot went off for the beginning of the race. I had no idea if my tears were for my Golden Boy making the state meet, Penny, Kylie, or Wade after he found out. My tears were for it all. I mean, really? After everything we’ve been through I thought I cornered the market on illness and heartache for everyone in our peripheral. And, I was ok with that. Carson has often said she prefers to be ‘sick’ than another child. I know what she means. I don’t want one more child sick. I don’t want one more parent facing the devil like we do.
I know that’s not how the life works. But, still. What? How? HOW?
All Kylie knew that day was something was off with her labs and she was needed inpatient for more labs. This is what Wade knew. I saw the fear in his eyes. He knew. His heart knew. His girl wasn’t ok.
The next morning on Mother’s Day 2018, Penny called and said it’s been confirmed Leukemia. She has acute lymphoblastic leukemia. ‘Could I please tell Wade?’ We were at brunch and he was not himself. He was waiting for that other shoe to drop. Literally.
I couldn’t help the sobs. I got my boy and we moved to a secluded table and I held him as I explained what was happening to Kylie. I held that 6-foot 4-inch, 175-pound boy. I rocked him as he asked if he would lose her. Would she lose her hair? Why has he always made such a big deal of her gorgeous long hair? I held him. I repeated the assurances Penny gave me. I told him time science and prayers were on our side. I say it was probably the second hardest thing I’ve had to do. I think it actually ties with telling Carson there is no cure yet for her disease and it is also life-threatening.
Both his beautiful girls were in the fight of their lives.
After we got home from the state track meet, Wade told me Kylie was so sorry she would miss prom, which was the following weekend. He asked, ‘Can I take prom to her?’ Oh, my heart. My heart erupted with every emotion. It lept for joy. Our Wade is the most unselfish and giving person. A call to her mom — it’s a go.
