Other than the recent stomach distress, Michael has been doing well overall. I told my best friend, last week, that I’m simply taking things a day at a time. During several crises, since September, I have bade him farewell. And freaked out and felt as if the world was coming to an end.

I’ve carried the burden of anticipatory grief way too much these past few months. Yes, things have changed. Yes, the diagnosis is bad and the prognosis worse. But I still have him and I still have each day.

So after our Thanksgiving scare, when I truly thought we were in the end stages, I resolved not to say goodbye anymore and not to brace myself for the end unless it was truly imminent.

It seemed as if I was living in a perpetual state of “OMG he’s going to die any minute now.” and that state of stress CANNOT be maintained for too long without losing your mind over it.

So this morning he woke up feeling better. Perhaps the new medication (Haldol) is having an effect on the hiccups. Perhaps I can get him back on the Decadron without side effects. Perhaps the world can come back to normal for a little while.

He seemed clearer this morning. Alert. Awake. And even knew it was Saturday. He didn’t, as he does every day, several times a day (including midnight) call Gina to get ready for school because she’s going to miss the bus. He knew it was Saturday and knew she didn’t have school. I looked at him as if seeing him for the first time.

At least it seemed I was seeing him for the first time in a long time.

I don’t want to give myself false hope, but I don’t want to be continually saying goodbye to someone who continues to be here. I just can’t live that way.

So for today I’m going to say things are going well. He seems alert, awake and aware. And I’m grateful for that. And I’m not going to say anymore or go any other place with it.