Things I would spend time thinking about or worrying about prior to May 2017:
- Oh no, when was the last meal the kids had something with a vegetable?
- Shoot, I forgot the clothes in the washer and now they smell like mildew.
- Why did I volunteer us to do so many things, there is no way I can bake the muffins and get them to school in time for the Teacher Appreciation breakfast. Ugh and I need crushed pineapple for the muffins and need to make another trip to the grocery store.
- Finn still doesn't know his alphabet? Why isn't he interested in learning it?
- Why can't the kids get along?
Then May 2017 happened....
After a few weeks of severe discomfort in my stomach after eating I decided to head to the doctor to see if they could help me figure out what was going on and why I was having pain after every meal. I was sent home with instructions to take Zantac everyday and come back in a couple of weeks if things didn't get better. Well, things got worse and it happened fast. I ended up at an urgent care a few days later. I walked in confident that I had gallstones and that we just needed to get my gallbladder out so I could continue with my life. I had a race to train for. I needed to gain back the weight I had lost since eating had become so painful. I had things to do.
I had an ultrasound that day where they saw something and wanted to get a closer look. So then I had a CT scan. This was all very scary. I got news that day that they saw a mass in my gallbladder but that it could just be sludge or something. After all, the doctors didn't think I fit the criteria for someone that would have a problem with their gallbladder. I was 35, not overweight, had just gotten great results on my blood work and was otherwise healthy.
The doctor that was originally going to do the surgery to get the gallbladder out sent me in for one last test, an MRI this time. After looking at the pictures, she decided it would be best to refer me to a surgeon at Stanford. Just in case.
The next day I had an appointment at the Cancer Center - wait, what? THE CANCER CENTER? I was so overwhelmed with emotion just with the name of the place. I was meeting my surgeon at a Cancer Center? Surely he does regular surgeries too. Obviously this is just where he has his office. Too bad they don't have a different office for the people like me that don't have cancer. Surely mine is just some random growth. Surely he will get in there and see that it is just a bunch of really gnarly gallstones and sludge (whatever that is). Surely it is nothing - I am 35 for goodness sake and I have little people to take care of. He will get it out an I'll be able to run again in a few weeks. It'll be fine. Then I saw that he was a GI oncologist...
After the surgery I knew something was wrong. We waited for results. And we waited. And waited some more. The wait for results seemed to take forever. Then we got them. Cancer. My whole world came crashing down around me. I cried. I questioned. I got angry. I cried some more. What about my family? What about my kids? They need their momma! What did I do to deserve this? This isn't fair - I take care of myself! I can't even begin to describe how devastating it was to receive this news. I was crushed. Totally crushed.
Once I got my bearings after that terrible news I did what my parents taught me and what any tough Appalachian-raised woman would do: I started the fight. The fight for my life. In West Virginia I learned that if you are backed into a corner you have one option which is to come out swinging. So, I came out swinging as hard and as sloppy and messy as all get out and will continue to fight this ugly cancer until it backs down.
It has been a long five months. Six rounds of chemotherapy and 28 radiation appointments later I am pretty sore. The cancer treatment got in a couple of good punches but I am continuing to fight. I plan to heal from this battle and be stronger than ever. With my treatment plan completed I hope and pray and believe that I will get the best outcome and look forward to clean scans that will prove that I am cancer free.
But you know what? I don't worry about making sure my kids eat enough vegetables anymore. I don't worry when Q's Halloween costume arrives the day before Halloween and fits me not her. I don't worry that Finn needs 1,000 kisses before going into his kindergarten classroom. I don't worry when they are driving each other nuts. I do worry that I won't get to see them eating vegetables when they are grown up. I do worry that I might not see all of their future Halloween costumes. I do worry that I won't always be around to give him 1,000 kisses. I do worry that I won't always get to hear their bickering.
And then I stop.
Because you know what? All any of us have is this very moment. This moment right here. Not the one that just passed or the one that is yet to come, this moment. We can't go back and we don't know what the future holds. So, I make a conscious effort to live as fully as I can in this very moment. I want to life this life to the fullest.
Leaving day 3 of the 2nd round of Chemo
