We are home! The girls are ecstatic, they just ran around and played and hugged all night. It was the sweetest thing. Inpatient chemo is a memory – one more thing off the check list.
Now, I want to share with you the reality of being a cancer mom. Inpatient chemo is not a memory for me yet. The nurses all congratulated us, sang songs, gave certificates and gifts…but I feel numb! I am numb with fear. What if what I am telling my daughter is a lie?!? What if the cancer comes back and we have more treatments in our future? I never promise her anything. I’ve read I am supposed to say things like, “we hope it doesn’t come back” instead of “it will never come back”. But, she’s three years old and thinks her days of inpatient chemo are behind her forever! What if she needs more, what then?
Now, listen, I know I have to stay positive and live in the present, blah blah blah! I do that almost all the time. But, I am being honest with you all right now, you can’t be like that ALL the time, it’s impossible. This cancer shit is scary! I tried typing crap just now and it doesn’t work. This shit is scary – day in and day out. I have faith in God and modern medicine, and I have all the hope in the world that, come April 11, Cecylia will have her last chemo drugs ever. I feel in my heart she won’t relapse. But, I am sure other mothers felt that in their hearts too! I have read that some call this survivor’s guilt – but I can’t help wondering, “Why will my kid be cured when others still struggle?” Then, I feel guilty, because Cecylia deserves to be healed so why would I think this way at all? Then, I remind myself that ALL of there feelings are normal. So, back to my original premise – this cancer shit is scary and is going to be scary for the rest of Cecylia’s life.
I wanted to share these feelings with those of you interested because having a kid with cancer is surreal. It never feels… well real. I still, after nearly eight months, have a hard time believing it sometimes. I know I am rambling. I always do when I try to share feelings rather than information. I always feel more comfortable sharing the details of Cecylia’s treatments, but I think it’s important for others to know the feelings that go with those treatments. The feelings are up, down, and side ways! They make no sense and all the sense in the world, all at the same time.
I am forever grateful that my daughter is doing well! I praise God for his healing of Cecylia. I am thankful to the doctors for all of their hard work in healing my child. I am thankful for the support of family, friends, and strangers that have become friends. Thanks for listening to me, supporting me, and letting me rant. It really helps me to get it out so I can leave all that here, and get back to living in the present and being positive for my girls! Most of all, thank you for praying for Cecylia and Ainsley!