This has been a monumental year on so many levels. Highs and lows. Dreams and Nightmares. Moments of hope and moments of despair.
I turned 22 this year. No, not actually 22 – I’m way older than that. But, this is my 22nd year since my oncologist gave me 3 days to make memories with my husband and children. Those 3 days were a gift and I treasure them every day. These 22 years have been filled with joy and sorrow, relief and fear, tests and results, feeling like I’ve let people down because of the rest my body now needs… Last year I was diagnosed with 2 autoimmune diseases. This year I had all of my remaining teeth removed (thank you, arsenic) and full implants put in; fell down a full flight of stairs and received a concussion, 3 broken ribs, and had one ER transfer me to another when the MRI showed neck fractures; and, well… it’s been a year! Actually it’s be and eventful 22 years of this life!
In these 22 years I’ve had the honor and privilege to watch my children grow into remarkable humans; spent lots of quality time with my parents and still lovingly grieve their absence; found a job I love; continue to try and live in the moment and not just rush through it all (that will always be a work in progress).
When I reflect on these 22 years, I think about what it was like for my Rock and I to grow old together in our mid-30’s. I aged from 36 to 90 in about a week. That’s right, my whole team of doctors (there were many!) said my body age was about 90 while we were in the deep throws of multiple chemotherapies, weekly bone marrow biopsies, and all of the treatments that continue to come and go in our life. My Rock and I, it is our life and I am so very blessed that he supports me through every step of it!
My parents took care of me when I came into this world, literally meeting my every need. I was dependent on them for everything needed to physically and mentally mature and begin the ever upward climb to becoming fully independent. I learned to sit up, crawl, walk, run, feed myself, make decisions, and ultimately turned into the adult that I was 22 years ago… 22 years… I feel every one of those years so keenly.
During my entry into the drug trial, upon walking into my room on the DNR (do not recitate) floor I was greeted with a stack of papers to sign. These papers agreed to the DNR, side effects of the chemotherapies we would be trying, risk of surgery to put in my duo-port, permission to have medical students be part of my team, etc. These papers were necessary to begin treatment. They were necessary for me to maybe survive. At 36 years of age I was actively dying.
I was actively dying.
Among these papers were also coloring books to give my children that would guide them through “My Mom Has Cancer” – I picked it up and set it aside. I just signed DNR orders and am was looking at a coloring book for my children. and I still have no words for what that moment felt like.
Once the papers were signed, the surgery was scheduled, and the chemo arrived I started losing all of the independence I had gained as a child. I couldn’t run, there was no energy for that, not to mention the risk of a brain bleed. I couldn’t walk without help, then I couldn’t stand up without help. I couldn’t eat and frankly couldn’t even think clearly. At 36 I was back to where I had started as an infant.
And I survived. It was… well, IS a hard fought war of moments.
We all come into this world helpless. Dependent. Needing to depend on others. We learn and grow. We form opinions. We judge. We speculate. We debate. We live and we (hopefully) learn. We age. We begin to lose some of our independence. We learn an entire new skillset that aging requires. We need people to depend upon. We come into this world and then, if we are lucky, leave this world in the same state of needing people. Yes, we live a whole lot of life in between. We form opinions, bias, find things we are passionate about, suffer loss, experience joy… So much life.
The beginning and the end both require us to need people.
Year 22 has been challenging, filled with joy and fear, and has given me a lovely case of emotional whiplash. Not joking here, just stating facts. I put on a brave face because, frankly, I don’t know how to do it any other way.
I need people every day.
We need people every day.
It’s time for less judgement, more conversation with active listening, more living…
It’s time we all try to feel 22 in the truest sense of the term! Love life, love others, be good humans and make this world the best place it can be for all of us.
So, here’s to the rest of my 22nd year! It’s going to be wonderful! I’m thankful for the humans that support me, encourage me, and just love me for the crazy, horror-loving, dog-obsessed human that I am.
