It's crazy to think that six months has passed since the test results told us the tumors were back. I don't mean to freak anyone out in case some of you weren't aware that back in January they found a few very small tumors that had metastasized to mom's liver. The lucky thing about this kind of thing is that they grow very slowly, so everybody seems to be super optimistic about a long and well-lived life on the horizon... But still. It has been six months since we were bluntly reminded that our mom will not ever be one of those people to celebrate being completely cancer-free.
I still remember what it felt like the first time the c-word made it's way into our lives three years ago. One minute, I was unpacking my bag for another weekend at the lake, and the next I was running out of the house and down the street, sure that getting away from those walls would make it easier to breathe somehow. I remember fumbling for my phone and feeling sheer relief when Emma and Elaine picked up on the other end. I remember a lot of confusion, feeling scared and overwhelmed and strong all at the same time as we navigated those first few months. I remember feeling (naively) free when those tests came back to tell us it was gone.
So much has happened between then and now. Sometimes, I think we almost forget that it's there, lingering in her liver. Then there are other times, like right now, when I have to try really hard not to cry. It's not because it's bad, exactly. I mean, obviously cancer isn't good by any stretch; All things considered, I think we're doing a-okay. But the truth is, those tumors lurking somewhere in the background can sometimes make things feel heavy. You forget. And then you remember. And then you try to figure out if you're supposed to feel panic or relief or worry... And you settle somewhere in the middle of those three.
I find myself thinking a lot lately about whether or not cancer has changed our family. For a while there, I didn't think it did. We were still us. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that something like this can't not change you. It's inevitable. But I'm proud of the fact that I think, in as many ways as it can, it has changed us for the better. It has made us feel luckier, pray harder, live bigger, love louder and let the petty things go a little bit easier.
It's no secret that I'm constantly trying to understand my faith and the role it plays in my life. But I can safely say that all the love and support and prayers we've received from friends and strangers alike has moved me. For the first time in a very long time, I feel like it's possible to believe in something enough that it will fix her. And if faith can't do that, then at least it'll be enough to carry us through.
In the meantime, keep us in your prayers this week!
I still remember what it felt like the first time the c-word made it's way into our lives three years ago. One minute, I was unpacking my bag for another weekend at the lake, and the next I was running out of the house and down the street, sure that getting away from those walls would make it easier to breathe somehow. I remember fumbling for my phone and feeling sheer relief when Emma and Elaine picked up on the other end. I remember a lot of confusion, feeling scared and overwhelmed and strong all at the same time as we navigated those first few months. I remember feeling (naively) free when those tests came back to tell us it was gone.
So much has happened between then and now. Sometimes, I think we almost forget that it's there, lingering in her liver. Then there are other times, like right now, when I have to try really hard not to cry. It's not because it's bad, exactly. I mean, obviously cancer isn't good by any stretch; All things considered, I think we're doing a-okay. But the truth is, those tumors lurking somewhere in the background can sometimes make things feel heavy. You forget. And then you remember. And then you try to figure out if you're supposed to feel panic or relief or worry... And you settle somewhere in the middle of those three.
I find myself thinking a lot lately about whether or not cancer has changed our family. For a while there, I didn't think it did. We were still us. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that something like this can't not change you. It's inevitable. But I'm proud of the fact that I think, in as many ways as it can, it has changed us for the better. It has made us feel luckier, pray harder, live bigger, love louder and let the petty things go a little bit easier.
It's no secret that I'm constantly trying to understand my faith and the role it plays in my life. But I can safely say that all the love and support and prayers we've received from friends and strangers alike has moved me. For the first time in a very long time, I feel like it's possible to believe in something enough that it will fix her. And if faith can't do that, then at least it'll be enough to carry us through.
In the meantime, keep us in your prayers this week!
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