"Bad day. Make it better." - Louie (asked in a tearful plea)

What started off as a rough day steadily improved into a dynamic evening; Louie was garrulous and exuberant. Labor Day one year previous, we were mentally preparing for 6 weeks of daily radiation and chemotherapy as the inaugural follow up to his surgery the prior month. They had warned us about radiation, how it may affect his IQ long term and other hideous issues. We were pouring through sheet after sheet of likely and less likely side effects. I sobbed the night before, scared that he would be monumentally different instantly. That my Louie, the one I'd known would be gone. There were alterations to his spirit. Cranky and exhausted as the weeks dragged on; a compendium of the treatments, the addition of a feeding tube nourishing him or the laboriousness of the daily appointments at two separate institutions. (I cannot fathom how we made it through those 6 weeks.) But it was Louie, even if I couldn't see it all the time and as he felt better he resurfaced. Tonight he was talking about his surgery last year, relieved we found everything when we did and amazed he had surgery 3 days after they discovered the tumor. His reflection was so sanguine and matter of fact. It's simply a memory for him. For me, it's every detail and every emotion. Maybe the color therapy above lifted his spirits; whatever it is, I wish it to last forever.