My first reaction was “Well crap, THAT was not what I expected.”
My doctor called me as we drove back from vacation to tell me the results of my bone marrow biopsy. It was supposed to show why I was anemic. Instead it showed that my non-Hodgkins lymphoma had returned.
The first time I got that diagnosis was in 1997. After a year of chemo ending with a stem-cell transplant, I went into remission. I had been told up front that this would be a life-long thing, a series of remissions and relapses, because the type of lymphoma I have still can’t be cured.
I had wonderful doctors. I told each one that I wanted – NEEDED – 14 years. “I have a 4-year-old son and I need to raise him,” I pleaded. Finally one doctor set me back on my heels when he said “So, you think when he turns 18 you’re done with him?” Message: Set longer goals. Never stop setting goals. Never give up.
I prayed. I argued with God. I questioned his sanity. This wasn’t the deal we had made. The deal was that I was going to have a baby with his blessing and I would be the best mom I could possibly be. I was keeping my end of the bargain, I was sure. So, what was the sense of bringing a little boy into the world and then leaving him an orphan?
Finally one day after a long time staring up at the cross something broke through and I understood that maybe this wasn’t about God’s plan for me. Maybe it was part of his plan for my son. That’s when I was able to say “OK, it’s all in your hands. If I’m not meant to raise him, then show me the way to make his future strong and secure.” And that gave me peace.
I almost got my 14 years. It’s been a glorious 13 years, and my son will be 18 soon. He doesn’t remember much of anything from the first time we went through this. He’s my biggest supporter this time around.
We’re ready to go round two with my cancer.
I’ll be blogging about my experience on our examiner.net website, and I welcome any questions or comments you have.
