4-10-2014 ... Ten years today, since Cancer came to our family.
Every year I have different thoughts and feelings and musings about our experience. Overwhelmingly, I feel grateful.
Grateful that he got "the good one" (no such thing, but we are mindful that the prognosis for Pre-B ALL is generally optimistic). Grateful that he was considered "standard risk" (could easily have been "high risk" if things didn't go according to plan in the first few weeks of treatment). Grateful that he responded exceedingly well to treatment (not all kids who get a "standard risk diagnosis" of "the good one" respond well to treatment - some of them do not survive). Grateful that so far we have seen no physical long-term effects of the chemotherapies and steroids that his body was pumped with for 1,158 days between the ages of 5-8 - a critical time for growth and development (many friends face significant physical complications and pain - long after their treatment ends). Grateful that the psychological impact of the experience has been relatively mild (as far as we know - that could change). Grateful that our family is intact (many marriages, partnerships and family units do not survive the experience).
Grateful that our boy is here with us.
Grateful for the many days when we don't think about cancer at all.
Grateful that we get to watch him grow into a well-loved friend, leader in his community, passionate to stay active and healthy. He really doesn't enjoy the spotlight, so I'll sneak into here that he was recently honoured as the player on his hockey team with the Most Team Spirit and was a co-recipient of the Official (referee / linesman) of the Year award from our hockey association.
Gratitude is not the only thing I'm feeling as I look back on the past ten years. I am forever changed. My heart and eyes have been opened to the reality faced by parents of sick kids. Childhood cancer has absolutely been the most traumatic event of our family's life - but he's alive and he's well. I have learned the importance of holding space for those with kids affected by Batten Disease, Diabetes, disordered eating, behavioral disorders, and congenital heart defects. I understand a little bit more about grief, and feel a bit more deeply when I see people forced to mourn the loss of the life they thought they might experience. Babies with cancer and grandparents and young adults and moms and dads in their prime - gone too soon. Marriages and families rocked by mental illness, parents desperately struggling to find support for their kids with complex medical and psychological needs. Kids with cancer and kids without cancer and all the other humans living in war zones. Sometimes it just feels like too much.
Life is really hard. And it's really beautiful too.
May we all find a balance that fits - even just for a moment, a reprieve when we need it most, hope when we think there is none, moments of joy in the midst of sorrow, strength beyond strength, rest for the weary.
Every spring when I see the cherry blossoms and dandelions - I'm reminded that life can change in an instant (or a slow progression), I'm stronger than I think, my family is surrounded by love, my life is beautiful, even though it can be really, really hard.
That's what I'm thinking about on 4-10-2024.
