Thankphul

Hey there Phin phans! Dustin here. No new medical updates on Phin right now (he goes back for his monthly clinic visit next week), but here are some photos and stuff he's been up to as we plow into the holiday season. Let's get it. 

Phin and his sisters made cards for the nurses on the pediatric specialty unit at the Children's Hospital. We wanted them to know we're thinking of them this Thanksgiving, even though no amount of thanks will ever be sufficient for the debt that we owe them and his physicians and the rest of the crew there. 

We spent part of Thanksgiving Break decorating for the holidays. That includes busting out the village. 

Phin and one of his sisters also attended Camp Sunshine's holiday party at the Children's Hospital and enjoyed hot chocolate after a snowball fight. Phin isn't old enough to remember the time it snowed here for real, but he's seen pictures of himself as a baby with the flakes coming down. Still, he took to this pile of trucked-in snow outside the Children's Hospital playground like a frosty warrior from the frozen north. 

The captain returns to the ship. 

Something about this photo (every photo in this post, to be honest) feels a bit unreal to me. It was taken moments after the one above. Here's Phin, bundled up in late November, guzzling hot chocolate on the deck of the vessel that we sailed to the edge of our imaginations all spring and summer, when the weather was so hot and his constitution was so frail that we had to time every voyage carefully.

Have we really arrived here? Is this real?

I just realized the reason these photos seem surreal to me. It is because while Phin was hospitalized, on the rare occasions I would allow my mind wander the misty corridors of possible futures, it always found its way to the same door and crept into the same small room of hope. These are the images that decorated the walls of that room.

It was a dangerous place to visit then, especially because the mind remembers the way to that room through the labyrinth of nightmare possibilities. It would sometimes sneak back there while I slept.  

That is my fear--that none of it's real, that I'm curled up again right now in that room in my mind, a dust mite of consciousness nestled snugly inside a blanket fort of prayers. In an instant that room and these images might all turn to vapor and it will no longer be November, but April. 

I'm terrified that this is all a dream.  

Phin and pham before the Turkey Trot 5k and fun run. It's unclear when it happened, but at some point in the last decade we became a turkey trot family. We've made a showing at this race in previous years with a half dozen or so of us participating, but this year we turned out in force. 

Phin and Neesha slice through the pack near the starting line of the Turkey Trot 1-mile fun run.  The course for the fun run and the 5k diverged after about a half a mile, and while Phin and Neesha made the turn for the 1-mile course, Phin's sister Obi shot right past it. I caught up with her around a mile and a quarter in.  "Where is everybody?" Obi said. "They're all up ahead," I said, "or they made the turn for the mile race. Unfortunately, you're doing the long race now, kiddo."  "I don't want to do the long race!" Obi said. "I'm not ready for that!"  I knew that feeling. So often we find ourselves in the middle of things we haven't adequately prepared for.  "Sorry, Obs, but at this point I think the only way out is through."  "I want Momma," Obi said. I knew that feeling, too.  "Momma's doing a different race. This is your race."  "Ugh!" Obi shouted. And then she poured on the speed and left me for dead.

Phin and Neesha slice through the pack near the starting line of the Turkey Trot 1-mile fun run. 

The course for the fun run and the 5k diverged after about a half a mile, and while Phin and Neesha made the turn for the 1-mile course, Phin's sister Obi shot right past it. I caught up with her around a mile and a quarter in. 

"Where is everybody?" Obi said.

"They're all up ahead," I said, "or they made the turn for the mile race. Unfortunately, you're doing the long race now, kiddo." 

"I don't want to do the long race!" Obi said. "I'm not ready for that!" 

I knew that feeling. So often we find ourselves in the middle of things we haven't adequately prepared for. 

"Sorry, Obs, but at this point I think the only way out is through." 

"I want Momma," Obi said.

I knew that feeling, too. 

"Momma's doing a different race. This is your race." 

"Ugh!" Obi shouted. And then she poured on the speed and left me for dead.

We all made it to the phinish line. 

This family has a lot to be thankful for. Many were the moments this year when it wasn't clear how many chairs we'd need at the table when we gathered. To be in the room with Phin and his grandfather now...to remember everything that has happened...it is enough to burst the heart. 

Thank you for reading this. 

Thank you for being a part of this.

Thank you for everything you've done. 

Thank you.