One Word

A year ago tomorrow life changed. One little word, six little letters...CANCER. On May 15th of last year, we heard that word for the very first time. The only thing that would eclipse the shock and pain of that day would be five days later when we got the results of the CT/PET scan and heard the words "liver metastasis." When I was a little girl, I remember trailing along after my mother at church and the store and places and hearing little old ladies say things like "he didn't last long," "it just happened so fast" about people who had died from cancer. Seven year old Leigh was bored and ready to go home, 43 year old Leigh now realizes that there was a person behind that story...and a family and a lot of hurt. And lives that were forever changed.

In the last year here is some of what I have learned...the names of chemo drugs like Avastin and 5-FU. I have learned that Ondansteron is an amazing anti-nausea drug that only people with good insurance can afford and that slipping extra pills to other people can make their lives a little easier and I have lost total respect for pharmaceutical companies. I have learned that chemo drives white counts down and Neulasta pushes them back up, but with a cost of making you feel like you have the flu. I learned just how strong the man I married really was when he got up anyway, put on a smile and was still a Dad and how important church was to him when he would make it there no matter how bad he felt and how he would make our anniversary dinner really special even though he was badly anemic. I have also seen how wicked sepsis is and how little doctors really know about how to treat it. And I have met more specialists than I ever dreamed and both embraced and had it out with hospital nurses. I became well aware that I would fight for the dignity of ANY member of my family by moving out of my polite and quiet shell and taking people to task...that a mother lion lurked in my heart even more intensely than I had previously known. And over and over I fell deeper in love with these people who are my family and this loving and grace filled God who holds us.

At the same time, in the last year, I watched my first baby graduate from high school, I watched her enter college and do very well despite heavy burdens that few freshman carry. I watched my son change from a little boy to a man. His deep voice and six feet of height failed in comparison to the emotional maturity that became his this past year. I watched them BOTH make it to every chemo treatment, wait patiently through every CT report until we emerged from the oncologist's office to tell them the results. I watched them sacrifice the carefree nature that can be 13 and 18 and be saddled with heavy burdens for their tender ages...and they did it lovingly and gracefully and wowed us over and over at the human beings of God they are.

In the last year I went from being Chris' wife to being Chris' widow. I went from parenting WITH an amazing man to single parenting. And tomorrow's significance is that it really was awfully fast. One year ago tomorrow the word cancer changed my life...and the lives of Emily and Eric. My maternal heart breaks for the pain they have endured and from which I cannot shield them. One little word.

And still...there is another word...an even more powerful word, one that changes my life and that of my children EVERY day, even more powerfully...God. And it is to Him that we pray and to Him that we cling...as we face not only tomorrow but all the tomorrows to come. I am forever convinced that life is totally a God thing, that we will never understand it in human terms and that it's inherently GOOD even though it doesn't always feel fair.

And so here I am on a beautiful Seattle spring day, windows open and a gentle breeze flowing through our home. I am here with a stuffy Eric who is battling bronchitis and laying on the couch beside me. I am here waiting for Emily to come home on the 102 and tell me about her day. I am here with pumpkin muffins in the oven and chicken soup on the stove. I am here wondering what tomorrow will hold, will we be sad, feel weird, feel lost... I am here...and that's really the most important thing to remember I'm starting to realize. I AM HERE. And God has me. And God has Emily. And God has Eric. And God has Chris. And so we press on...a family on both sides of the mirror, three seeing dimly, one seeing perfectly. And God's grace is the universal constant.

Grace for your journey,
Leigh