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What is life without hope?

1/7/2017

Driving home from the grocery store tonight on a prematurely dark winter evening, my thoughts turned to tomorrow’s schedule. I have an appointment with Dr. Brogan, my Dermatologist also my secret weapon. Together we have removed nearly 200 skin cancer lesions. My skin cancers have several causes: steroids, radiation, medications and others I am sure. Regardless of the causes, it is an ongoing problem since my Leukemia diagnosis. My skin cancer scars are the daily reminder of my fight, not that I really need a reminder.

Changing on the outside is one thing but the real change has been the change in my way of thinking and that of acceptance. I have accepted my circumstances. I am thankful that I survived and I will do what it takes to continue to the next day.

However, without warning my thoughts can go to my darkest moments. Sometimes I look at Mark and ask him if it really happened. I have been blind, crippled, frail, yet somehow always determined.

Doctors never gave me hope and yet I was hopeful. Each time I was told to prepare for death, I was confused. God has never indicated to me that I was dying. Even at my sickest, I felt the need to comfort my family because I did not expect to die. I prayed and toughed it out. I felt that was my only choice. I had hope.

What is life without hope?

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Mom, you are beautiful!

3/19/2016

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It was about this time of year 9 years ago, when my youngest son Mitchell came home from school and made my day! It had been a year since my last bone marrow transplant. I was thin and drawn. My hair was working hard trying to grow back for the 6th or 7th time in recent years. My happy and wonderful children were expected home from school any minute. My favorite part of the day!

My energy level was improving but not impressive. Graft vs host (GVH) of the tongue had taken its toll. I was making an effort to put on weight but my taste buds had long since deserted me. I mostly wore sweats because nothing fit my 100 lb. frame. My Shirley Temple curls were fine and springy. I was still without eyelashes but always had a smile for my gifts from God: William, Samantha and Mitchell.

On this particular day, I decided that it was time to step up and try to jump back into life. I still looked like a cancer patient. I didn’t feel like one, but in public it was obvious that I still looked the part. I made a call and headed to the hair salon. I shared my story with the poor woman assigned to care for me on this day and we formulated a plan. Because of all of the medications in my system coloring it was a crapshoot. Cutting it seemed a pathetic attempt. The curls were relentless and had a mind of their own. To return my vision, the brain surgery had left me with a shunt jutting up in an awkward angle an inch tall on the top left of my skull above my left eye. I was asking for a miracle from my hairdresser.

After my salon appointment, I rushed home to be there in time for the kids to come home. I heard Mitch come in through the garage door. I was excited to see my 5th grader, as he was always excited to tell Mom the adventures of the day. He smelled like the playground and his St. Louis deMontfort uniform was filthy from playing football at recess. We met in the foyer and he stopped mid stride and said, “Mom, you’re beautiful!” He then ran passed me up to his room to change his clothes so he could go out and play with his friends. I was happy! It made me feel so good that my effort had paid off. Later, at dinner, I thanked him for his comment. He then said, “I love you Mom, you were beautiful before too.” From the mouths of babes.

Thank you dear God for keeping me around to raise these beautiful people and to assist in forming their hearts.

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What is life without hope?

Mom, you are beautiful!

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