D O N E..."for now"

The leader of my "mommy and me" group that I started with Abby and do now with Leo (or shall I say had been doing and will do again once I am well) taught me to use the phrase "for now" when talking about our children's habits.  He's sleeping through the night "for now" or She LOVES green beans "for now"...because their little lives keep changing so rapidly all the time.  I think I need to remember that for myself as well.  Remember that I am in treatment for cancer.  That even though I just had my last radiation treatment today that it really is the last of my treatment for now...

I think that has been the hardest part of this fight.  It's been almost a year. It feels like everyone is moving on with their lives. That's a good thing. I need to learn to find fulfillment within myself and my family.  I was thinking just this morning that because David is traveling this week I don't get to finish radiation and go home and celebrate with him. That made me sad. I am happy to be done that is true.  But it would be nice to puncuate the end of my radiation sentence with him.

For the past couple weeks I have been increasingly less social.  I just do not have the energy.  I don't have the energy to talk on the phone. Or email. Or chit chat. That has made my feelings of isolation even worse because I can't reach out to anyone because I really don't have much to say. Nor do I have the energy to listen.  That also makes me sad. I'll get healthier and then I can re-engage (that is if I have any friends left...JUST KIDDING!!).

In some ways, the absence of a social life has made my relationship with my family that much stronger.  I am grateful for that.  We have had to rely on each other through such difficult times.  How lucky I am to have a partner in life like David and two sweet kids. I do so much wish Ben could be here too (some days that eats at me more than others).  We have such beautiful babies.  I often wonder what Ben would look like now.  Sometimes I catch myself telling Leo that he is the most beautiful boy I have ever seen and then I feel guilty.  I'm positive I said the same thing to Ben.  

I came home and slept for about four hours after I got my radiation walking papers. That is not an exaggeration. Geez Louise. It felt good. I still struggle with the fact that my body desperately needs rest but all that sleeping to heal myself means less time with these little munchkins.

A sorority sister of mine sent a message seeking prayers for a friend who is fighting Bone Metastaces ("Bone Mets") that started with Inflammatory Breast Cancer. She had two recurrences and it eventually spread to her liver and bones. She blogs, Toddler Planet, as a part of a community called "Mothers with Cancer". It's a blogging community of 20 or so women. I have been reading these posts for good and bad since the kids went to bed. The good is knowing that many women who are diagnosed with cancer as young moms have done well fighting the fight and still manage to raise wonderful, intelligent and caring children. The bad is reading about all the women who lost their fight and left behind young families. I guess I shouldn't be reading these right now but it's like watching a train wreck. I just can't stop myself. Ugh.

Anyway, here is a post from one of the women who passed away. She blogs a final letter just before she passed away. It is unbelievably beautiful in its honesty.  I agree with her on many fronts.  She left behind 6 children. She lived for only a year after diagnosis... :-(

     My last blog

If you are reading this, it means I have passed. I decided to put some final thoughts together in the hope that it will be of comfort to my friends and family. But also to those of you I never met but who felt a connection to me through this blog.
Blog. I hate that word. It is so silly and trivial. I thought of this as an online journal. One designed to keep my loved ones aware of what was happening to me. I wrote as honestly as I was able. I have looked at many older entries and realized that my feelings about death, dying, and cancer changed as I grew more sick. While I never feared death I often feared treatment.
Cancer treatment is hard. Really hard. The chemo, scans, medications…it is physically daunting. I was willing to subject myself to it all to have even a little more time with my husband, children, and loved ones. It was worth it. I would say that I packed a lot of living into that year while I was dying. I was still me. I was still engaged with my friends. I still was able to love and be here for all of them when they needed me. I still changed diapers and played games. Kelly and I fought like a married couple and loved like one too.
I learned a lot over the year that I battled this dreaded disease. I learned that it is not in our best interest to hold out expectations to God. He is not Santa Clause. He does what is right and good. This was my path. My journey in this world was difficult and painful but important in my spiritual growth. I learned that we have to be happy despite our circumstances. We can’t say I will be happy when…. No sweeties be happy now because today is all you have.
I learned that all the small stuff is very small and not worth your time and attention. Gossip and resentments,worrying about things that never happen, fearing the unknown. Let it go my lovelies, breath and just be good to each other. I realized not long after my diagnosis that life is too short to spend it hurting people and holding onto the anger we have for those around us. I am no doormat, but I just let go of all that hard core resentment. God forgives us through the blood of His Son. He forgives those who hurt us as well.
I am sure that some of you are profoundly saddened by my passing. Death is far more about the living than the dead. But I believe in my whole heart that this is what was meant to be for us all. My friends rallied around us and supported us in every way imaginable. What an incredible gift. That was a lesson in selflessness for them. And in acceptance for my family. My children have many wonderful people to rely on. Their father, step father, grandparents, and friends. I have no doubt that they will be devastated. But in time these wounds will heal and reveal themselves to be battle scars that serve as a testimony to their inner fortitude. My children will move mountains.
Kelly wants to keep the journey going. He intends to chronicle about their lives without me. About the loss and the recovery from tragedy. Maybe you will all be as uplifted and comforted by his words as well. My children will write too, sharing their experience. Thank you all for participating in my life. For providing sweet words of encouragement and prayer. I pray that none of you will ever get cancer, it sucks. But if you do or someone you love does I pray some of my words are a comfort to you all. Have a wonderful life. I will have a wonderful afterlife.
Andrea Collins Smith