The sermon yesterday at church was about hope, which came at a great time for me. I am of course very concerned about the health of my son James. He continues to point out that his prognosis is excellent once he gets past the chemo therapy, and I of course continue to worry. Part of being a parent I suppose. We chatted on the phone about how he feels bad for some of the other people who are receiving treatment the same time that he is because, in his words, they have real cancer. He means of course that their chances are not as good as his, but again, as a parent, his form of cancer is all too real.
Today I took my youngest son John to the dentist for his usual six month cleaning and checkup. He was very cooperative, and we were in and out in less than 30 minutes. I wish that my checkups went so quickly and smoothly. The first time I remember taking John to the dentist, I held him on my lap while he screamed. He was so agitated that the dentist was able to look in his mouth and determine that John needed some work. In order to do that, we had to take him to a surgical center so he could be put under general anesthetic. It was my hope that someday John would cooperate at the dentists, but I had a hard time believing it would really happen. But it has.
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