This weekend, you received news that you never would have imagined hearing. Your son has cancer. My heart aches for you, your son, your family, your community, and your friends to come. You see, I've been down that road, and am traveling still. Yes, we are out of the woods for now, but as you will soon learn, there is no guarantee or chance to feel safe from those words again.
So many emotions race through my mind when I hear of friends of friends in your situation. Even when it's a child in the community that we have no connection to, I feel an unbearable urge to get to know that family, share my knowledge of the life they're being thrust into, and follow that child's/family's journey.
Welcome to the club:
- where you'll know exactly which cancer research fundraisers will have your support (not the ones that only donate pennies out of each dollar fundraised toward childhood cancer research)
- where you'll stop caring about womens' breasts, preferring instead a gold ribbon
- where the several cases of childhood cancer that you've heard about in the past few years in your community must be an outbreak beforehand, but after thinking about it, not an outbreak, just a NORMAL reality
- where you will have instant family worldwide, but especially the ones you meet on the floor (cancer unit), in clinic, or at the Ronald McDonald House
- where you are thrilled that your other child's scary symptoms are JUST epilepsy because that can be controlled by medicine (unlike some brain tumors)
- where your cancer patient's previous open-heart surgery feels like it was NOTHING because it threaten their life in nearly the same way--for so long, and to such extremes
- when you write letters to your friend's friend because you heard that their son/daughter was diagnosed with one of the most life-changing diagnoses possible
- where every other fresh childhood cancer diagnosis hits just as hard and makes you physically ill because you KNOW just how hard of a journey that entire family will be embarking on
- where you throw away all sense of pride and have to accept help
- where "getting to visit home" for a weekend is a HUGE joy
- where you learn to really appreciate friends who don't ask, they just see a need and take care of it (dinner, gas cards, grocery cards, fast food cards, entertainment for you and for your patient, babysitting, visits to see how you are, cards or letters, donations to help out)
- where you truly come to appreciate just how many people and organizations are out there to help people just like you and your son, to make life just a tiny bit more bearable
- where you won't be able to focus on only one charity again (research, Ronald McDonald House, Make-A-Wish, patient inability to pay fund)
- where you truly will become a MOMCOLOGIST, which is to say that you will know as much or MORE about your child's cancer than your oncologist, pediatrician, nurses, etc.
- where, within a short time, you will have enough training on patient care, you'll feel you could be a nurse. And if you're already a nurse, you'll feel qualified to work on a cancer unit.
- where you'll end up with PTSD from the diagnosis and all the stress that accompanies it
- where your thoughts will end up just as scattered as the topics listed here
There are some things that are silver linings to this ugly reality:
- your new, instant family that isn't related by blood
- empathy you will develop for others
- a new appreciation for life and all it has to offer
- a new appreciation for your patient
- the chance to see the wonderfulness and kindness of others
- more knowledge (not the kind you EVER wanted, but it may be useful in other situations someday)
- a new appreciation for having your family all TOGETHER
This isn't a long list of what to be thankful for. There are many others, but it is so hard to find them when overwhelmed with cancer. Just make sure to find one thing to be thankful for each day, and your journey will be a tiny bit more pleasant.
I am so sorry to welcome you to this exclusive club. But, know that you are welcomed with open arms, ready to help you, pray for/with you, and we will all be there for you.
Sincerely,
Sarah
p.s. Make sure you don't forget to do special things with your non-cancer children! They need support and love too!
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