THE CANCER SCARE



On the day I was discharged from the hospital after giving birth to a big, beautiful baby girl almost forty years ago, the doctor asked me if I wanted the good or bad news first. I told him to always lead with his best information. The good news was that I had birthed a healthy baby. The bad news was a cancer diagnosis. The prognosis was potentially bleak, but he felt I would have a better chance of living longer if I never had another baby.

I suffered from severe depression for a few months after Marcy was born. Part of the abject sadness was due to sleep deprivation, but a massive amount of me was grieving about the possibility I would never see my baby girl grow up. I tried to imagine scenes like her first time riding on a tricycle as if imagining it would substitute for not living long enough to see it, but tears kept getting in the way of projecting into an uncertain future. I had excellent care from Baylor Hospital in Dallas for approximately ten years after the initial diagnosis, which resulted in now being cancer-free. My ex-husband continues to receive follow-up letters from Baylor to see if I'm still alive. I'm happy to be one of their excellent outcomes for cancer treatment. I sometimes joke with our mutual friends that I can only imagine his unhappiness when he checks the box with the word "yes" beside it. Making a joke about a serious situation has often served as a pressure relief valve for me.

I had the good fortune to see Marcy walk across the stage when she completed Nolan High School in Fort Worth and again when she graduated from Syracuse University. I burst with pride at the compassionate person she's become and what she's accomplished professionally. I cried buckets of tears at her wedding while remembering the first time I held her in my arms, then feeling grateful that I saw her marry the man of her dreams. Like me, Marcy waited until she was well-established in her career before she gave birth. I'm so fortunate to observe Marcy as she expertly navigates the world of two toddlers while continuing to succeed in her professional life. When I looked into my grandbaby's fresh newborn faces, it crossed my mind that I might never see them grow up due to my advancing age. When my mind again drifted into morbid thoughts of my mortality, I started bargaining with God for more time. For instance, if He'd let me live to at least age 90, I could see my grandchildren walk across the stage at their college graduation. In return, I promised Him to be kinder and more patient with everyone. If He'd let me live to age 100, I could hold my great-grandbabies. Then, I bargain for even more time when I think that might fly. Try as I might, I still find myself frequently impatient and not as kind as I should be.

Projecting into the future might never end. Bargaining doesn't work. There are no guarantees about how long we'll live, but two things are for sure: we'll pay taxes, and we'll all die one day. Life will take us up, down, sideways, and out. None of us will be here forever, so it's best to soak in every moment we have with the ones we love. I've looked at every day as a gift since the cancer diagnosis almost 40 years ago, even when life went sideways. I feel it's made me stronger and certainly more eager to fight harder for the issues I believe in. We only have so much time, so making every minute count is essential.

I dislike dwelling on thoughts of mortality, so when those notions enter my mind, I revert to faith and spirituality to get my head straight. Whether in a physical state or in another dimension, I will still "see" my grandbabies' sweet faces while watching every step they take. Love transcends space and time.


                                   

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