2 1/2 Years Later

Last week I was at Natalie's oncology follow up and as I sat in the waiting room waiting for her appointment; I thought about how long it has been since we were there. We just went through our first six month gap between appointments. I remembered how for SO long "this" was the focus of our lives- appointments, ANC, being careful to avoid infections, abdominal pain, not feeling well, living to see our girl smile, never taking a moment for granted, being so proud of how amazing and brave and happy and joyful she still was...that was our life.

The hard AND the wonderful...
As I sat there, remembering what it felt like to have all of my energy and life focused on cancer and my beautiful daughter; I felt a swirl of emotion. I felt so utterly grateful to no longer have "that" as the center of my life; BUT what a wonderful feeling to still have my beautiful children and my husband be the center of my life. What a good feeling to have moved on and have a life focused on much more normal things. And what a feeling of gratitude to have my daughter doing so well...my heart wished that for each person sitting in that room.
But I also remembered the beautiful parts of the journey- people sometimes forget that those parts are there. Many of those beautiful parts came from our daughter and her hope, light, joy, resiliency, and grace--but the rest came from the beauty, love, and kindness of others. That was truly a part I never wish to forget- the kindness and influence and chance to get to know amazing people.

As I sat in the waiting room; I reflected on how in so many ways it feels like "that" life is so far and long ago and yet in other ways I could almost close my eyes and be back there and remember how it felt in the blink of an eye... Maybe because it is SO deeply emotional, impactful, and life changing and maybe because it does become the focus of your life for so long--maybe that is why it feels so close in some ways.

David and I had actually talked about this several days before I went to clinic and he had voiced similiar feelings of it seeming so long ago on one hand and almost like yesterday at the same time. It really is a strange dicotomy. But time is a funny thing- now as an adult, time flies so fast anyway. Things that happened ten years ago still seem like a short time ago. It is almost more weird that "that" life could feel SO far away than for it to feel like yesterday. I think that is a good sign that life has returned to a much more normal path. We just recently reached longer off chemo than how long she was on chemo and sick; last week was the two and 1/2 years off chemo mark. And just the other day it suddenly hit me that this fall will be five years since it all began- what a different person I am today.

There are still subtle reminders- a G tube (although only used for medicine these days!!), three medications that I don't think she will get off anytime soon, and tummy troubles that still bother her--these things are so normal to us that we hardly even think of them. When her tummy troubles get more out of balance it still reminds us and makes us sad for her; but she handles it well and with grace. I made that comment to her oncologist, that she handles those issues so well and she looked at me and said, "she always has--in fact sometimes it was hard to get people to listen because she did handle it so well." There was clear admiration in her voice. Admiration that I have always felt as well.

As I sat at our standard place doing crafts while we waited for our appointment; a sweet girl came as sat next to me. She was probably ten or eleven. She wasn't bald but when she started talking I could tell the effects of the brain radiation. She was the sweetest thing. She just wanted to chat up a storm with me. She told me that a year ago she was at Cook's and they told her Mama that she only had one year to live and her Mama said "Uh-Uh!!" She told me about her brain tumor, chemo, and radiation; and how she had only been to school once since Christmas; and then she asked Natalie about her cancer. Then she said, "Having cancer changes your life." How true sweet girl! Fighting for her life. Yes, I miss the amazing people and children, but I do not miss the heartache of it all. I do not miss the life centered around clinic visits and hospitals even though it becomes a home that is warm, caring, and comfortable--my gratitude to be in a different place in life is huge and I wish I could stand and cheer for each of those kids and they could come to this side of the finish line where we are- well and healthy.

A few minutes later the cutest little boy came and sat down to do crafts. He was about five and as bald and cute as could be. This little cutie pie had a nurse bring him out because he did not want Mom and Dad to come too--he wanted his independence!! He was a chatty little thing and wanted everyone to pay attention to him. Oh what a cute boy; I couldn't get enough:) But what I really remember is something he said as he chatted with a nurse. He said he was playing a game called "muscle man." When she asked what that meant, he flexed his arm and said, "It's when you ACT like you FEEL strong." Those were his exact words and they really hit me. He didn't emphasize the act and feel- but that is what I heard. I saw that example play out more times than I can count with my Natalie, just like in these pictures taken just three minutes apart- always acting like she felt better as soon as she could muster it. You have to act like you feel strong implies that you really don't--but of course that is what all of these brave kids do- they act like they do anyway. And I would bet you could add to that list smile and be happy even when you don't feel well--but that one wouldn't be an act--they really would feel happy because there is something special and resilient about children.
My daughter has been one of my greatest teachers- all through example. Even if the memories of those experiences are fading (especially for Natalie), she still carries the strength she gained. She is the person she is today because of all she has overcome and that will always be a part of her. I am sure the dicotomy of feeling distant and yet close will remain; but what I hope to especially remember are the lessons and love that I learned.