I didn't know what to say, so I didn't write. I didn't feel relief, and people want me to be relieved. It didn't feel over, yet we are done. (Well, not totally done.) This happened to me once before, in the beginning of our journey, when fear took over. It started waking me at night. Clouding my dreams. Stealing my happiness. This is what happens when I allow fear to take over.
Reality check. We are so blessed. Taylor is done with chemo and radiation. We are one clear scan away from a surgery to remove her port, and life to be normal for her again. Every day her immune system is getting stronger and stronger. People lose their kids every day. To cancer.... to tragedy..... to things that come without any warning at all. How lucky am I to have a changed heart at 32 years old? I know what's important in this life. Chris and I have walked through our darkest days, together, and somehow came out on the other side of this. So we have scans every 3 months..... we can do scans. Taylor is not a statistic, a prognosis, or some kind of ticking time bomb. She is an amazing, resilient, little fighter. My faith is in God, and now I feel relief.
The end is near. The bell is almost within our grasp. There is one treatment left, and we get our lives back. All of us. I remember sitting in the oncologist's office with tears streaming down my cheeks while he told us Taylor's stage and treatment plan. I had a notebook with me, to write down important things, and the only word written on my page was cancer. For months I was unable to say it, the word cancer, or that Taylor has cancer, I couldn't do it. I thought the treatment plan was impossible. How could we do this to her? How could her little body handle this? How could her spirit handle this? What about my 6 month old baby? My business? Our life....what about our life? And all of the sudden I realized that Taylor was crying, worried, and watching Chris and me fall apart. I decided that day to be an example of strength and courage to her. No matter how scared, or heartbroken, or sad I was, I would put a smile on my face and be a happy mommy in front of my kids. I kept myself on a strict discipline of keeping my eye on the goal, getting her through this, and did not allow myself to focus on the negative. We settled into isolation, and my breakdowns seemed to happen in the car, or the grocery store...those were really the only places I was alone. I remember wanting to stop treatment during radiation. It felt like too much, what if this was overkill, but her doctor's quickly gave me a reality check. Do it, or she may not make it through this. We have been living in this nightmare for a year. Is this working? Will she survive? How could we ever live without her? And all of the sudden, we are here. We did it.
I have cried all week. I feel relief, but I also feel so scared. What happens when she isn't being watched so closely. What if it comes back? I wanted her oncologist to tell me it never would..... and he can't do that. I believe that everything will be okay. Through this process I wished I could do this for her, and now I can. I can carry the worry about scan results every 3 months, while she enjoys her life. I can continue to pray for her life, while she rests easy. I got my wish. I can't ask for anything more. I put 100% of my faith in God through this process.... that He is stronger than cancer, and I am so thankful that we shared the same plans for my girl. I can't wait to see all that is in store for this one beautiful life we are given. It feels like someone just hit the "play" button after a year of being on "pause". We blindly followed our oncologists treatment plan, trusted that he knew best, and as I sit down to write him a thank you note, I don't know where to begin. How do you thank someone for saving your child's....your most prized possession's.... life?
