After about ten minutes, the main patient door to our right opened up and a middle-aged woman walked through.
And then she burst into tears.
She flew into the man's arms, sobbing and shaking. I froze, not quite sure how to give them the privacy they needed. The silent, gruff man grabbed his wife's arms, asking her in that tone, the one that says "Please don't tell me, but I know I have to know" "What?! What?!!"
"I'm cured! My doctor says I'm cured! They can't find cancer anywhere!" she exclaimed, still sobbing.
They clutched each other, both openly crying, and I tried to hide myself (and my tear-covered face) behind my little notebook. The husband became conscious of where they were and gently ushered his sobbing wife towards the door. As they walked away, I caught the husband's eye and mouthed, "Congratulations!" to him. He stopped, rested his hand on my shoulder and whispered, "Good luck."
What a difference fifteen minutes can make.
I kept waiting for some dark feeling to surface, one that whispered "Why can't that be me?" but it never came. The tears I had were tears of overwhelming joy...joy that there are stories like this. Isn't that how it should be?
I found out in my appointment with my Oncologist that I will never be able to be declared cancer-free. My situation and the length of time my cancer had to spread won't allow that phrase to be said to me. I am titled "Very High Risk" for cancer to show it's ugly face again in the next five to ten years. I will be good and healthy...until I no longer am. But you know what? It's not going to happen. I intend to live into my 80's (or later...after all, I have Adrian blood in me!), thank you very much!
I had often wondered if people are changed when they go through experiences like this. The people who barely survive an accident or live through a life-threatening disease...does life magically appear better afterwards? Here's my truth. Not much has changed. And I like it that way...it means I'm happy with the way I've been living my life. The same things frustrate me. The same things sadden me. The same things fill me with happiness. I still don't like the act of putting sunscreen on my kids and making beds. My zero to frustrated scale still goes up just as quickly as it did before. The things that have changed are slight, but still significant. I pause more. I take an extra, deep-breath of the fresh grass smell after Brad or I mow the lawn. I stand around the corner and listen to my children playing together. I savor that tart/sweet flavor of homemade applesauce. I watch the clouds shift and move as a thunderstorm approaches. All of these are things I did before...I just pause and enjoy them a moment longer. Shouldn't we all?
They clutched each other, both openly crying, and I tried to hide myself (and my tear-covered face) behind my little notebook. The husband became conscious of where they were and gently ushered his sobbing wife towards the door. As they walked away, I caught the husband's eye and mouthed, "Congratulations!" to him. He stopped, rested his hand on my shoulder and whispered, "Good luck."
What a difference fifteen minutes can make.
I kept waiting for some dark feeling to surface, one that whispered "Why can't that be me?" but it never came. The tears I had were tears of overwhelming joy...joy that there are stories like this. Isn't that how it should be?
I found out in my appointment with my Oncologist that I will never be able to be declared cancer-free. My situation and the length of time my cancer had to spread won't allow that phrase to be said to me. I am titled "Very High Risk" for cancer to show it's ugly face again in the next five to ten years. I will be good and healthy...until I no longer am. But you know what? It's not going to happen. I intend to live into my 80's (or later...after all, I have Adrian blood in me!), thank you very much!
I had often wondered if people are changed when they go through experiences like this. The people who barely survive an accident or live through a life-threatening disease...does life magically appear better afterwards? Here's my truth. Not much has changed. And I like it that way...it means I'm happy with the way I've been living my life. The same things frustrate me. The same things sadden me. The same things fill me with happiness. I still don't like the act of putting sunscreen on my kids and making beds. My zero to frustrated scale still goes up just as quickly as it did before. The things that have changed are slight, but still significant. I pause more. I take an extra, deep-breath of the fresh grass smell after Brad or I mow the lawn. I stand around the corner and listen to my children playing together. I savor that tart/sweet flavor of homemade applesauce. I watch the clouds shift and move as a thunderstorm approaches. All of these are things I did before...I just pause and enjoy them a moment longer. Shouldn't we all?
What's Next?
On Tuesday I head back to the cities for the day to meet with my plastic surgeon and then to have a consult with my Gynecologic Oncologist/Surgeon. I should know more of a timeline for future surgeries after that.
Remember to pause today!
The Future:
Looks Beautiful!
On Tuesday I head back to the cities for the day to meet with my plastic surgeon and then to have a consult with my Gynecologic Oncologist/Surgeon. I should know more of a timeline for future surgeries after that.
Remember to pause today!
The Future:
Looks Beautiful!
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