Two years ago this week, the "dreaded" phone call came. After an unsightly mole appeared on the back of my thigh, the dermatologist's office called and confirmed my worst fears-it was MELANOMA. Further testing and additional waiting....led to Stage 3A....not a good place. Up until this point in my 48 years, cancer was something that had remotely touched my life....student's parents, neighbors, distant friends.... and I had included myself on meal chains, dropped cards in the mail, and added them to my prayer list...but those interactions did nothing to prepare me for the next 2 months of my life.
Today, it all seems like a blur. Occasionally, scents remind me of the chemo treatments, and there continues to be a myriad of appointments to specialists to determine if the monster has reared its ugly head and returned, but overall, the whole experience feels as if it happened to another person or in another lifetime. However, each and every day, I still feel the gratitude that comes with being desperately vulnerable and needing people- and them being there. It is a humbling experience for high school friends you have lost contact with to join you in the chemo-treatment room, for families of students you taught years ago to show up with dinner, and for your closest family and friends to have to put their lives on hold to help you. The value of your daily interactions with others is mirrored in their willingness to help during times like this...and it is a humbling experience, indeed.
Ironically, my youngest child- my constant companion- moved into her freshman dorm the same day I was diagnosed. I am quite sure God knew I was going to have a difficult time when she left, so he made sure I had other ways to occupy my time. In a strange way, the cancer provided me a focus...and even made me grateful my daughter was leaving so she would not have to witness what followed. It is true what they say....God works in mysterious ways.
My experience was minimal compared to what others are facing- but I now approach others who are going through this (and other similar situations) with a stronger understanding of what they might need and a greeter desire to help. Now, I am a part of a club I did not choose- but, I feel grateful to belong nevertheless..
Today, it all seems like a blur. Occasionally, scents remind me of the chemo treatments, and there continues to be a myriad of appointments to specialists to determine if the monster has reared its ugly head and returned, but overall, the whole experience feels as if it happened to another person or in another lifetime. However, each and every day, I still feel the gratitude that comes with being desperately vulnerable and needing people- and them being there. It is a humbling experience for high school friends you have lost contact with to join you in the chemo-treatment room, for families of students you taught years ago to show up with dinner, and for your closest family and friends to have to put their lives on hold to help you. The value of your daily interactions with others is mirrored in their willingness to help during times like this...and it is a humbling experience, indeed.
Ironically, my youngest child- my constant companion- moved into her freshman dorm the same day I was diagnosed. I am quite sure God knew I was going to have a difficult time when she left, so he made sure I had other ways to occupy my time. In a strange way, the cancer provided me a focus...and even made me grateful my daughter was leaving so she would not have to witness what followed. It is true what they say....God works in mysterious ways.
My experience was minimal compared to what others are facing- but I now approach others who are going through this (and other similar situations) with a stronger understanding of what they might need and a greeter desire to help. Now, I am a part of a club I did not choose- but, I feel grateful to belong nevertheless..
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