“A cheerful heart is good medicine." ~ Proverbs 7:22
“What was it like learning you had
cancer?” a friend asked her unexpectedly.
The question stole Caryn’s breath. Suddenly she was drawn back to that exact
moment. The surgeon’s voice echoed in her
mind with such sadness, “I’m so sorry; you have breast cancer.“ The paralyzing fear of an uncertain future
swallowed her, wondering if she’d become a cancer statistic.
Telling her children was the
hardest part. Kids 8, 11 and 16 heard
'cancer' and instantly thought, “Mom's gonna die." They’d already noticed an increase in doctor visits
and some irritability.
A lumpectomy removed the tumor and
some surrounding tissue. Then came chemotherapy
and radiation followed by hair loss, nausea, fatigue and concentration deficits.
An army of friends supported her sending
prayers, cards, and meals. They drove
her kids to school and sport practices.
Coworkers sent pictures and reassurance, making Caryn laugh and helping
lift her spirits.
She leaned heavily on her family. It was roughest for them. Her youngest frequently questioned if she was
going to die. Husband Karl became her
‘rock.’
Yet, even with support from her
army, there were times when Caryn still felt alone coming to grips with her own
mortality; questioning things she’d never thought about at 43, like, “Am I
going to die? Will I see my kids grow
up? Will my husband remarry? Why me?"
Since her diagnosis 6 months ago, she’d cried, but had held it
together pretty well. The momentum of
fighting the disease had driven her onward.
After a marathon of cancer
treatments, she could hardly wait to get back to a normal life. But the day her last radiation treatment ended
didn’t mark the end of her cancer journey.
(They failed to mention that).
She stared down at the daily pill
organizer and combusted; cancer anger finally broke through. It wasn’t pretty or dignified. It was irrational and ugly. But it felt necessary, honest and long overdue.
She opened today’s compartment,
nearly tearing off the lid in frustration and reached for the pill. Instead, found a little something additional left
by her beautiful children – a pink M&M and a piece of dark chocolate.
The teary smile reclaimed Caryn’s will to fight on.
She’d gained a much deeper faith
and a more hopeful view of life. She’d
bonded with amazing people and made positive changes in her lifestyle that she
might not have made without a cancer diagnosis. Some people even call this the ‘Can’ of having
cancer.
“I survived to share my story, and am
thankful for what I’ve learned. We’re
all here for a reason, and what we choose to contribute to this crazy world has
the power to make a difference. I choose
to love, to empathize, to continuously praise God.” ~ Caryn
