(3 of 3)
diagnosis day. part three.
I've struggled to write this final post until today. If you've been following my blog, you know I've written the story of dday part one and part two. I've also written about the moment the nightmare ended, which picks up the story after Brooklyn's biopsy.
The realization I came to today is that part three isn't over.
Part three of Brooklyn's diagnosis day story began the same day active treatment ended, by a stroke of gorgeous luck or perhaps with God's grace. The most unusual case of stage one neuroblastoma seen in ages, which still causes imaging technicians and doctors alike to proclaim how lucky we are.
Part three is everything that has happened since.
It is the first scare.
The unwanted guest.
The first since's.
The follow up scans.
It is all of these things and so much more.
Brooklyn will always be a child who had cancer.
Her diagnosis will not change.
The problem is, the outcome could.
NED now, but what if the next scan tells us otherwise?
The most profound transition, one which is shared by many cancer families I have met and spoken with this year, is the one which takes place once the child completes active treatment and begins after care.
This is the place where a singular hole in one's mental wellness can result in a fall out.
Where anxiety and depression loom.
Where each worry must be replaced with the very powerful statement:
"In this moment, right now, everything is ok."
And so, as Childhood Cancer Awareness Month comes to a close, I'd like to suggest this:
If you know a family who has been touched by cancer, reach out and check in.
Not so much on their physical health.
But on their mental health.
Honour survivors and angels alike through a commitment to ensuring that each family member is supported through their grief, anger, fear, anxiety and even survivor's guilt.
In many ways, this is the diagnosis day story they struggle to share.
<3 <3 <3
d day. part three.
January 20th, 2016.
#CCAM #WarriorPrincess #TeamBrookie #MorePreciousThanGold
This blog was created in 2011 to capture my very personal journey of leaving full time work to become a work-at-home mother of three beautiful children. Naturally, this space has morphed into a place of personal reflection, celebration and sometimes even sadness. I’ve written about childhood cancer, food allergy and anaphylaxis, grief, marriage, friendship, parenting and everything in between, all with a growing sense of mindfulness and gratitude. Please, grab a cup of tea and stay awhile.
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