As a survivor I have been blessed with a foggy memory of 2014- the year I was diagnosed with Stage 4 Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Many of the treatments, struggles, sickness have become a distant memory.
There are snapshot memories that still play in my mind. Snapshot memories like the tone of my doctor’s voice when he told us, “Stage 4.” I remember the invasive bone marrow biopsy and the Physician’s Assistant who explained, why biopsy appointments were made so early in the morning….
I remember the kindness of the nurses. The first time my hair fell out in a clump. The first time I saw someone post a “sweat” for me. I remember some tears. I remember a lot of joy.
I do not, however remember a lot of fear.
But I will get back to that.
August 18, 2014 was my last day of treatment. August 18th was the day that after 12 rigorous rounds of chemotherapy, I was cured. That was one year ago.
Cancer was gone.
But that’s not really the truth.
Cancer is always with you.
Part of you.
It creeps back into your mind when you hear of others fighting.
Cancer has a way of coming back into your thoughts and filling you with fear. That’s the truth.
So what do I do?
I work hard mentally to alleviate the fear- through doing good for others, through the time I spend with my children, through the time I put into helping others through my business, through the books I read, through the gospel I read.
I work physically to alleviate the fear- through the sweat, I still feel like I have control over my body. As long as I am sweating, I am winning.
But there are weeks, weeks like this one, where it feels like it’s everywhere. It’s draining. It’s hard. It’s feels, how do I explain it?
Like this sorta…
Like an elephant. On your chest. Just sitting there.
And you want to be able to breath, heavy. But you can’t. Instead you can only take short breaths and focus.
on the present…
on providing hope to others…
on giving back what was once the kindness shown to me…
on being a one of a kind mama to my babies…
on living a life worth remembering….
Cancer is part of me.
It’s not gone.
Never will be, really.
That’s why I do what I do.
Because if I can take those sheer moments of hopelessness that others feel, and just be the light
then I know, I am always going to beat cancer.
So live. Live. Fight like hell. And when you get too tired to fight, lay down and rest and let somebody else fight for you.
For those of you who sweat with me, Thank you. Together we raised $289 for the American Cancer Society!