Then the fateful moment in CT. A large mass. I pretended I didn't see it, as I was suddenly an outsider in my own environment. The moment we returned to our ER room, I was greeted by the dr. This is not happening, I tried to pretend but it was far from true. The er dr said "you can tell him or I can." I insisted on telling my hubby. I told him 5 times. He kept forgetting. I've joked about the frustration about having to tell my husband so many times as post seizure he was forgetful... But in all honesty it was how many times I needed to hear it.
Immediately my family surrounded us. My physical and work family. The staff surrounded me with support as the reality hit home.
The next 8 days are a blur. A blur of motion and emotion, blurs of neuro checks, medications, anxiety and little rest. Tears were shed. (To the point of vomiting) Final wishes and dreams shared between Joel and I. Many of those closest rallied to surround us, while the storm continued to rise.
We hoped to God, it would be simple. And when it turned to be more than a benign tumor, I was so unsure of what our future would have. Two years seemed so scary. Our future, our jobs, our daughter, future children all felt so uneasy.(And far from obtainable)
Cancer may continue. As we will by medical standards never hear "cancer free" but we are living life. Work continues, Joel is independent, drives, and is fully capable. (I couldn't be more proud) I continue working, so thankful my coworkers and management support me. Our daughter, is so kind, patient and bright. Cancer has not destroyed her as I initially feared, but rather built her up and strengthened her with compassion. Do I fear that cancer with ruin our twins? No. With enough love, support and faith we will persevere. I do feel sad they will never know life outside of cancer.
I do still miss carefree days, of dreams without reality. I also, miss parts of Joel and myself that will never be the same. I do still hate the weeks leading up to MRIs where every headache and every little twitch brings a slight bit of nervousness that the gray-mater is being changed or invaded... Fears that I will have to fly south with Joel for treatment...as I'm certainly not getting smaller. Ha! These babies are growing! (and so am I)
Two years. A lot of life has happened and continues to happen. The shock is gone. Though tears are still shed over the injustice of this imperfect life, (of course I'm pregnant.) Peace walks along side, with a still confidence that life will continue, and that we are not alone.
Faith has been strengthened, tried and renewed. Love has been put under intense pressure as lessons and patience bear fruit. God provides.
Two years. Seems like so little time yet so far away. The sights and the smells, are all still so real. The stings of those whom we thought would be closest but only brought hurt remain. And the warmth of love from those we least expected continues to this day.
Cancer knows no age, person, or situation. It changes our life, our bodies, and our futures... But it doesn't take our love and hope.
Please pray for peace, as we head into scan week (next week) Monday MRI, with results on Friday. Pray for stability and wisdom for our drs.
Thank you for following this journey. It's been crazy and will get crazier at times. Your love, support, faith and prayers have sustained us on even the most scariest of days.