Wednesday, April 3, 2013

One Year Anniversary: Post Dedicated to my Favorite Mom- Mine!

A sweet pic taken 2.5 weeks ago.  My Aunt Candy next to Dad at Candy and Tom's surprise birthday party, one day before Mom's 57th Birthday!  Mom is looking gorgeous and, most importantly, has survived one year post-diagnosis of Stage IV Mantle Cell Lymphoma.
Today is a special and sober and celebratory day.

April 3, 2012: Mom went in for a colonoscopy, to check out her stomach pain.  A tumor was found.
And then, my mom's life dramatically changed.  As did many other's lives who love her.  

I really marvel at this story.  I tend to be a dramatic person (slight cough to assent that perhaps 'tend to' understates it a bit), but, there is more drama in this story than I could ever create.

First of all, Mom was diagnosed and underwent her entire treatment plan while Tyler and I were living back with my parents in my childhood home.  Considering the fact that we were living on the East Coast for 3.5 years preceding our stint back in Roca, it does seem like impeccable timing to force us out of DC and into hopeful opportunities in Lincoln, only 2 months before cancer loomed large in our lives.  However, for Tyler, the hoped-for job never materialized in Lincoln or nearby areas, and we spent 11 months in Roca eke-ing out an existence and trying to bounce-back from consistent job search defeats.  It does seem like the principal reason for living in Lancaster County for 2012 was to be a part of the community project of being with Mom during her chemo treatments and stem cell transplant.  And I would never trade being present during those dark days.  There were so many gifts in the suffering and uncertainty, and Mom (and the rest of my family) became more precious to me than I could imagine.

Even though we were in Nebraska during that time, Tyler and I were seriously considering accepting a job in India working with IJM for June 2012-June 2013.  We had the offer extended, and wrestled over it for a good month.  Our deadline to accept or decline was April 2nd, 2012.  We felt awful about our decision to say no, seriously considered calling back the next day and accepting.  On the morning of April 2nd, there was a lack of peace; to say "no" felt very much like we had only the slightest millimeter of an urge in the negative direction.  It only took about 30 hours post-decision to understand why, mysteriously, we each felt tugged "just enough" to turn down IJM.  April 3rd's colonoscopy results gave us our "six-month" plan.

That's just my angle of the surprise and heartbreak of early April 2012.  There are countless other "dramatic" stories from others I could tell from the last year, that do not seem like coincidences, but providences.

You all know that Mom is doing pretty well right now.  One year later.  I cannot believe we have the privilege of still living together on this earth.  When the eventual diagnosis was Stage IV Mantle Cell Lymphoma, I certainly thought she may not be with us on Christmas 2012.  Or her birthday on March 17.  Or one year later.

I could write so much about this past year regarding Mom's journey.  I am afraid I would lose all my readership if I wrote all that was in my heart--- meaning you would grow weary of scrolling and looking at a screen.  However, I do want to express a bit of what I have learned watching my Mom.

My Mom was courageous to a degree I did not know possible.  She endured so much trauma on her body, in order to hopefully achieve a cure and/or a longer life.  She continued to care so deeply for others during her battle, often praying as much as her mind could focus when she lay on her hospital bed or our Roca couch.  She had days of tears and frustration, but overall her year has been marked by an overwhelming amount of positivity, hope, and gratitude to God and others.   I have always considered my Mom one of my nearest and dearest friends and confidants, and my respect and love for her have only deepened when tested by this cancerous fire.  When things were really bad at the beginning of her treatment, I would beg God to just get her through this day, or out of the hospital back to home.  Our Triune God answered so many specific prayers in an encouraging manner, that I have been bold to pray for more decades for Mom (over and above the "just help her survive this day" prayers), and that those decades may even be marked by a healthy, enjoyable lifestyle.

Mom continues reminding me that no one knows the number of their days, and we are all staring death in the face, if we truly acknowledged that.  That is a tough truth.  Nevertheless, having Mom in a near complete remission state feels, in one sense, like Lazarus being raised back to life.  I experienced the reality of Mom's mortality in a unique way this year, and am living today with the undeserved and unbelievable gift of a sweet, present (albeit 3 hours away) beautiful Marcia Henning still blessing me beyond measure as only a Mother can do.  I love you, Mom.

And thank you, Father, Jesus, and Holy Spirit.  You have spared our family and friends sorrow upon sorrow by healing Mom during this past year and You have given Your world the ultimate living hope in the resurrection of Jesus from the dead.  Thank you, all of you, who have prayed, however little or much, for Mom.  Thank you, all of you, who showered tangible and intangible kindnesses upon me and my family during this past year.  Thank you, nurses and doctors, for your caring bedside manner, and your extremely competent skill.

Here's to the start of year two.  I hope and pray for continued healing, strength, and abiding joy for Mom!                    

1 comment:

  1. Oh! Your mom looks SO wonderful!!!!!! Love seeing her joyful smile, healthy face, and sassy hair:) Continuing to pray for full healing and rejoicing over and over again with you!

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