365 days. 525,600 minutes. It’s amazing and terrifying how quickly life can change. I remember it clearly - that it was a Friday night, that we were in the parking lot of Portillos, and that for a moment I thought I might have to get out of the car to throw up.Nothing in life prepares you for hearing the words “I have cancer”, especially if they come from your mom and your best friend. Your confidant, role model, your comforter, your HERO. Who, I might add, was “perfectly healthy” until this very moment.The days and weeks that followed (and most of the year, honestly) were absolute hell. I remember that some days felt so hard and so long that I wasn’t sure they would ever end. I remember thinking that the seemingly endless string of bad news and scary test results were coming so fast that I couldn’t finish processing one before the next wave came and knocked me down. I remember wondering if my prayers were ever going to be heard or answered. I remember feeling so paralyzed with fear that I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to live fully and freely again. I remember desperately wishing for the world to stop turning while I tried to catch my footing again. I remember counting down the days until treatment ended- only to realize the new kind of panic and heartache that comes with the end of treatment. I remember feeling guilty for having such a hard time with this- for needing so much from other people. I remember telling everyone I was fine when I wasn't, because I didn't want them to run away. I remember trying to convince myself to "suck it up", knowing that other families go through much worse. Above all, I remember thinking that I surely wasn’t strong enough to do this, but being thankful that she was.Here we are, exactly a year later, and with greatful hearts we celebrate that my mom is cancer free. We’re thankful that this is in the past, set to become but a memory.Yet somehow i struggle to “move on” and i find myself expecting life to go back to “normal” with the passing of each day - maybe failing to recognize this IS our new normal. I find myself wondering if the paralyzing fear will last forever, rather than fade away as I once had hoped. Maybe this isn't something we can just "put behind us" because maybe it has become a part of who we are.Our family and my heart are changed forever, and I’m working everyday on moving towards the future with more bravery, less fear, and tons of love. So here’s to 365 more trips around the sun- together.If you’re a praying friend, I humbly ask for your continued prayers. For restoration of family relationships, for hope for the future, and for my ever fearful heart. Love you all.
As an aside, but on a related note- please, share with your loved ones that EARLY DETECTION SAVES LIVES! It's not just an ad campaign- it's real life. Because my mom had no family history and was generally "low risk" the official recommendation was to get a mammogram every 3 Years. She opted for yearly, just to be safe. Her cancer was found incredibly early, which is a huge blessing because her tumor was a grade 3- as aggressive and fast growing as they come. Did you know a mammogram can detect a tumor up to TWO YEARS before any lump might be felt? TWO YEARS?!? It horrifies me to think what could have happened in those 2-3 years if my mom had opted out of the annual mammogram due to her "low risk".Modern medicine is great, and the God we serve us even greater.