November 21, 2011.
One year.
Praise the Lord.
It started with a trip to the local clinic because I thought I had an earache.
Two hospitals later, a doctor walked into my room.
Stood at the end of my bed, looked me straight in the eye,
and something I never expected came out of his mouth.
"I believe you have Leukemia. This type is rare. It'll be hard, but you have a chance."
I didn't think my life was over.
I was NOT giving up.
I just asked, "What do I have to do to fight it?"
I took a shower that night. Washed my hair...my beautiful, dark, long hair that I was so proud of.
I got weak and had to sit on the bed to blowdry it.
I thought, "This is the last time I'll blowdry this head of hair."
That night, I was told I had bleeding behind my eyes --
that was why my eyesight was getting worse.
I laid in the bed with my husband and tried to memorize his face.
I wanted to remember his clear blue eyes.
His crooked smile, and the lines across his forehead when he wrinkled his brow.
That funny little crease on the side of his mouth.
My baby girls (then 4 and 1) could not come see me.
Devestated isn't even the word.
Two days later, the day before Thanksgiving, I was transferred to a much larger hospital.
I remember having a serious argument with the Oncologist who sent me because I just wanted to go home for that one day. I couldn't understand what just one day would hurt.
I had no idea.
I vaguely remember getting to Atlanta. I don't remember checking into my room.
By the end of the week, the doctors had placed me into a medically induced coma.
My body needed all of its strength to fight. Hard.
Sometime between Sunday night & Monday morning, the doctors called the family in.
"Six hours," they said. "We've done all we can do."
Friends, THAT is when fervent prayers started reaching Heaven.
Things began to look up quickly.
After somewhere between two and three weeks, I woke up.
A joyful time that was quicly clouded when the realization came that I couldn't move
And I couldn't see anything but shadows.
But I didn't care.
Why?
Because I was alive.
I had to learn to move, walk, talk, see, etc. again.
But that was nothing.
I was alive.
After two long months, I was able to see my sweet girls.
I haven't taken a second for gratned since.
And you better not, either.
You never know when that moment may be your last.
In February, I was 88% cancer free.
In April, I was declared to be in remission.
I've finished two phases of chemo and am on my last.
Life is so good. But not just because I got myself back.
I learned a lot during my time in the hospital, and in the months that have followed.
I have learend to trust in God...to trust doctors...
I have learned what love is...I'm trying to learn not to be selfish.
I am forgiven for my sins.
There is absolutely no way in this world that I could have come this far without Him.
Without the prayers of friends and family...and people I don't even know.
Thank you for the suppers cooked, the taking of the girls so I could rest,
the help cleaning house, driving me to run errands, driving me to doctors appointments
and last but certainly not least, taking me to chemo appointments.
They say it takes a village to raise a child.
It also takes that same village to help one overcome cancer.
My husband commented to me the other day that as the weather was getting cooler,
he was beginning to feel sad. I didn't understand. I asked him why.
Because the warm summer days were starting to have chilly mornings.
Darkness was coming sooner rather than later.
Then I understood.
I wonder if he'll always feel sad this time of year?
I wonder if I will always get nervous at doctors appointments?
There will always be doubts...
but there can also be peace.
I'm so thankful for that.
