Just like Elli Wolpe said at the TNT Pasta Party, I have always heard that when people tell the story of an event that changed their lives, they often begin with the words: "It was a day that started just like any other day..."
The same is true for us too.
It was a day that started just like any other day, my mother went to the doctor's office for an annual physical. She actually told him that she felt better than she's ever felt before (she and I had just started walking together at the YMCA). On that day, they told her that they wanted to see her again to run some more tests. Some of her "numbers" were abnormal.
When we received the news that she was diagnosed with cancer, we were devastated.
Luckily, the chemo worked, and after months and months of treatment my mother went into remission. But remission is not the same thing as being cured. We played the waiting game because incurable means it's coming back. Only we didn't know when. All we knew was that it would be on a day just like any other day...
And it was. I can't even write this part without breaking down, but I have to share the rest of my story. Please know that I am pouring my heart into this message to share it with you.
It was a day that started just like any other day, and we walked into the doctor's office together to recieve the news that the cancer was back and that there was nothing more that the doctors could do.
A day that started just like any other day, knocked the feet right out from under my entire family and all of our friends. That was in November. My amazing mother fought, treated only for pain, until March when we lost her.
I hope and pray that one day....
It will be a day that starts just like any other day, when they announce they have found a cure.
God bless those that are fighting, and may we find a cure so you and your families can rejoice on that day!
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6 comments:
Oh, Mary Beth, what a sweet post! My mother is in remission from multiple myeloma, and I always get anxious when it is time for her tests again. I only had one child when she was diagnosed, and she has been blessed to welcome six more grandchildren since then. One day I hope we'll all celebrate the cure!
Since returning to endure almost two years of recovery after my accident, it has struck me that we use the words you did, "we lost" her or him. I know it is truly for lack of knowing what exactly to say, but I'm betting she lived a Christian life so we know where she now resides. They are not lost, we are the ones trying to find our way to where they are :)
Thank you for visiting my little spot in the world and I have added you as well. It was comforting to come here and read this. You cannot imagine the beauty and peace of the place she now awaits those she loves.
Have a beautiful week ~
Nancy, your comments are so true. I use the words "we lost her" because I don't want to use other words. But, you're right. She is certainly not "lost." Those words are not accurate at all. I love to think about the peace that she now knows.
Your post gave me goosebumps. You wrote this so well and I, too, long for the day when cancer is cured.
Mary Beth,
My heart goes out to you...My very best friend in the whole world (Linda) was diagnosed November 1 of 2007 with Stage 4 metastatic endometrial cancer. I remember going out for lunch with her the Saturday before as she told me her doctor called on a Saturday. She was freaked out, I told her, not a big deal, maybe you had an abnormal pap and they want to do it over...
She felt better, until she got home and they had called again saying they set up an appointment for her with a gynecological oncologist.
It had been a day just like any other. Then you hear oncologist. Then on Nov. 1 you hear Cancer.
She died on October 2, 2008. I know she is healthy and whole and sitting at the feet of Jesus, and that brings me great joy! But, oh, how I miss her...
Kerri - Thank you for sharing. I'm in tears for you. For her though, it's just like you said. She is sitting at the feet of Jesus and we should feel joy for her. It's hard to do when we get selfish and want them here for us, but ultimately, what more could we want for our loved ones. Thank you for reminding me of that.
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