Monday, September 24, 2018

this is alex. this is healing.


This was alex.
Not capital A-lex, this guy only deserved little a-lex.
This was Brooklyn's tumour, which she named in therapy over the last 18 months.

On January 19th, 2016 this image was taken by CAT scan. It took two attempts, the second time she had to be sedated to obtain this photo, as her first experience was an absolute horror show of screaming, crying and terror. It absolutely traumatized us both.

alex was about the size of an adult fist, located in her abdomen. This was the reason for her pain and fatigue. This was the guy causing her to feel rotten.

This was her childhood cancer.
This is what a 'lucky' case of neuroblastoma looks like.
She. Was. So. Lucky.

All September long, as I wake up to flashbacks of her time at the hospital, as I remember minute details of the night post-surgery when she nearly went septic, I still hear the words, 'your child has cancer'.

I am healing.
Perhaps forever I am healing.

I know we still have six months until her next MRI.
Six months more, her first year between scans.
A milestone year.

Because she is ok. Because her rate of relapse is very low.
Because she kicked alex's butt and told him never to return.

As new layers of our journey continue to unravel, I am determined to endure them with gratitude.

I will answer Ethan's concerns, 'do all middle kids get cancer?', by reminding him that he is healthy and shouldn't expect to be diagnosed just because he is now five, like she was then.

I will smile through tears when Brookie posts hospital photos on her wall, as she is finding some comfort in, or perhaps acknowledgement of her journey by viewing herself as a child who used to have cancer.

I will hold my husband tightly when we both cry, worried about relapse or remembering what complete despair we felt then and how desperately we want to forget it ever happened.

We are still healing.
But I am grateful for every. single. day.

Perhaps this is the beauty of trauma. It brings forth a light, a positive vision of life which leaves trauma warriors determined to see even the worst days as brilliant, gifted and full of beauty. There is no other way.

#ccam #gogold #childhoodcancer #cancersurvivor



Monday, September 10, 2018

Reflecting on Childhood Cancer Awareness Month #ccam

 
Today is September 10th.
Go to www.boxrun.org to make a donation
 
It's a special day because across the world a local childhood cancer ambassador, Mike Strange, is running with Brookie in mind.
 
Today is an otherwise normal average day.
 
School.
Work.
Dance class.
Maybe even a Blue Jays game on TV.
 
Our life is so normal.
So average.
I've never been so grateful.
 
Childhood Cancer Awareness Month is very difficult and triggering for my husband and I. It's immensely painful to hear stories about other children who are no longer here on this earth. The truth is, it hurts our hearts, it cuts us to the core.
 
We see our own family in theirs.
Our own daughter in their child.
We know it could have been us.
It's impossible to know why our child survived.
It's nauseating to consider her relapsing.
 
People often say, childhood cancer is their worst nightmare and they couldn't imagine their child becoming sick.
 
Well guess what?
It's even more horrendous than you can imagine. Right now, at this very moment there are children so very sick they cannot eat or play, laugh or go to school. We have seen more families suffer, more adults and children endure anxiety, depression, divorce and PTSD than anyone would like to admit.
 
You know what else?
We've also seen the best in people. We've seen unwavering love, unrepayable kindness, gestures of faith and deep heartfelt support by people like Mike, along with countless others.
 
It's really incredible to consider how something so awful can bring out such authentic goodness in people. Stop for a moment and reflect on the fact.
__
 
I've learned not to question life or God, as the cyclical nature of those questions leads only to suffering. I've learned to simply accept, then appreciate life.
 
The insanity of busy, because that means my kids are healthy and following their dreams.
 
The late nights when I can't fall asleep, because I am home in my bed and not cramped in a hospital room chair.
 
The burgeoning grocery bills, because my children are eating nutritious food and not ordering off the cafeteria menu.
 
The many (many) overwhelming days where nothing feels right, because I now know what it truly feels like for everything to be terribly, terribly wrong.
 
So to Mike Strange, and all childhood cancer ambassadors working hard this month to raise awareness and funds for our kids, thank you. Together we will continue to walk tall, support the families in crisis, care for our beautiful warriors and honour every single child who looks down from the highest heaven.
 
Xo
 
#CCAM #childhoodcancer #warriorprincess #morethan4 #gogold