It started from a very young age. I was diagnosed with leukemia at 21 months. I was not expected to live. My first memories aren't like most children's, I suppose. Cold hospital rooms and examining tables. Lots and lots of medicine, chemo and IV's. Worst of all, the room filled with sparkling lights, televisions, and toys. I think the doctors were trying to distract us patients from what they had to do in there. But truthfully, there aren't enough stuffed animals in the world to distract a toddler from having spinal taps done. Needless to say, that was a traumatic time in my life and also my parent's lives. But the fact that I am alive and completely healthy today is a miracle, and I have always intended to live with that perspective.
Having such a serious disease at such a young age definitely changes a person. Regardless of how young I was, I remember much of that time in my life. And while sometimes I wish that I didn't have those memories and consequential fears, I am simultaneously grateful for the strength and purpose it gave me. I have had that mentality about my near-death illness for as long as I can remember. You would think that having the disease would be the worst thing that could happen. But for me, having cancer and then watching a loved one struggle with it is the worst.
My Pa was one of my favorite people on the planet. As a kid, he would often take my siblings and I geocaching, camping, and swimming. We would drink Yoo-Hoo and play Yahtzee and laugh at his cheesy jokes whenever he and Mimi came to town. Hearing the news that he had cancer was devastating and unexpected. Because we lived in Oklahoma and they lived in Florida at the time, I didn't get to spend time with him after his diagnosis. My mom moved in with them for a couple of months so that she could help Mimi take care of him. I will never forget the last time I saw him. I remember feeling sick to my stomach at what the cancer and chemo had done to him. The man sitting in Pa's favorite recliner didn't look anything like Pa. I gave him a hug and kiss that last day, knowing that his fight with cancer was one he wouldn't win this side of Heaven. I knew that he wouldn't be around to call me "Dizzy Blonde" or take me geocaching or be at my wedding or even meet my kids someday. His funeral was the most difficult funeral I have yet to attend.
It was only a couple years later that Pa's wife, my Mimi, was diagnosed with cancer. I believed from the beginning that she would make it. It seemed as though they had caught it early enough to stop it from spreading. I was wrong about that. Over the next year, the cancer spread. I still believed that the chemo and radiation would work and that she would recover. After all, how cruel would it be if she died from the same disease that took her husband? However, I was wrong again. Mimi passed away and went to be with her Lord and her husband. I miss her often. I miss her cookies, her kind spirit, and her frequent words of encouragement.
I'm writing this on the seventh anniversary of Pa's death. And I'm not going to lie, I'm just as devastated today as I was seven years ago. Cancer is a vicious disease. I spent a long time being angry at it. I spent years not talking about my fight with it. And I spent years not processing the pain it's caused me, my family, and countless other families. I know that it can cause the worst pain, the deepest hurts, and the wildest fears. I know what it's like to just wait for the next phone call about another family member being sick. I still can't go in a hospital or to a doctor without a lot of anxiety, fear, and sadness. Cancer has yet to be cured. One might call it invincible.
One thing I know to be true: God is stronger than this. He is stronger than cancer. Why doesn't He stop it then? Well, if I could understand God's mentality then He wouldn't be God. This is what I do understand. For me, having cancer at such a young age radically changed me and my family. It gives me perspective and strength. Strength to know that God has made me strong enough to overcome anything that life throws at me. My Mimi and Pa's deaths from cancer gave me a deeper level of love and respect for them. And not just for them, but for life and family. We never know when tragedy or illness will hit. But I am determined to not live in fear of what heartaches wait around the corner. I intend to let my battle with cancer, before and after remission, give me strength, perspective, and courage to do the impossible. Cancer has no victory over a life that is surrendered to the ultimate Healer.
I share my story to hopefully help anyone else who has been affected by this disease (or any). There is always hope.
