My butt hurts from sitting in classes and lectures all day.
My brain hurts from the knowledge that has been bestowed
upon me.
My back hurts from lugging a 25+ backpack around the city;
books, food, clothes and all.
My eyes hurt from looking at a computer screen and trying to
absorb all of the information given to us in the last few weeks.
And my heart hurts from not being with my girls and my
husband.
…But my life is full.
And for that, I am so grateful.
I’ve made a promise to myself long ago that I was not only
going to let people into our journey, but that I would continue to share the
experiences that we have and will face throughout the years. Childhood cancer is not as simple as a viral
cold. It’s not something that you get,
fight, become immune to, and fades away.
No. It is a lifelong experience.
It’s one that does not simply go away when the active disease process
ends. It is a constant worry, “is it
back, have we relapsed, what is that bump, that bruise, are we doing enough to
fight it?”…and for some, the constant reminder that this insidious disease took
their child from them.
I’m not sure how many moms have been lucky enough to have
been in my shoes…to have had a nursing background and to have experienced
emergency/trauma situations, and the pediatric acute care setting prior to my
daughter being diagnosed. Then to have a survivor emerge out of all of the
chaos and to be able to continue my education so I can assist others through
their journey. I feel incredibly
lucky….and incredibly blessed.
These past couple of days and the last few weeks have been a
daunting task. Starting graduate studies….organizing, processing, scheduling,
more organizing….trying to fit back into the world of school and the world of
parenting and all the other worlds we have to juggle. It is safe to say that my worlds have
collided…and I’m trying my best to keep them all situated, organized and in
their little boxes. As my husband Adam
would say, “In a bag, in a box…in a box, in a bag”. I like things organized. But as I know, it is NOTHING like facing a
new childhood cancer diagnosis and it is NOTHING like being told that there are
no more options. This is voluntary and I
am honored and grateful for the opportunity to pursue my passion.
I bury my face into my hands as if to stop my world from
spinning…and take a moment to make sure I am doing the right thing. Then I realize, there’s nothing more I want to do (…besides the obvious).
There was a point today when I was in between classes
thinking., “oh my god…this is going to be a lot of work. Can I really do this? Can I really go back to
school, balance my family life, work, friendships, and all of the rest? Wait, of course I can. I WILL NOT give up”. The thought of not doing it quickly subsided
when I took myself back to the early days of Gabriella’s diagnosis and
realized, I absolutely can. My mind
won’t let me linger for more than a few seconds on those early days. Just remembering bits and pieces is plenty to
keep me motivated.
I received this gift from my girlfriends on my birthday last
year Today I look at it and realize how
spot on my friends were when they created this for me. My loves, Adam, Gabriella, Bridget…and Team
G. My life. All of them.
I gleam when I wear this necklace.
I wear it with pride. I want everyone
in the world to know where we’ve been and where we are now.
And Team G….oh Team G.
I have so much thanks to give (that is for another blog post). As I’ve said from the beginning; Team G is
all of you. It’s not me. It’s not my girl. It’s the basis that we all came together…to
fight one cause. I love where we’ve come
from…and I love where we’re going.
There will be tears along the way. And pride.
And gratitude. And I am So. Very.
Thankful.
