Back in January of 2012, my son Griffin started his radiation treatments to his face. Now, nine years later, we are once again dealing with the side effects of this treatment. Don’t get me wrong, these treatments and many others saved my son from Rhabdomyosarcoma when he was only two years old. But now, at 11, he is dealing with health issues that no little boy should ever have to think about, never mind go through.
As his mum, I go through waves of anger, doubt, peace and sadness. I’m mad that although we won his battle, it sometimes doesn’t feel like we won the war. Like, these little side effects will harass us for the rest of his life. I doubt myself that I made the right decisions with his care. But in my heart, I know that we are so lucky to still have him, we came so close to losing him. I should be so thankful and happy. But it’s hard. It is so fucking hard. Watching your child in pain, watching your child struggle, watching your child grow up “different”, it’s hard.
It is extra frustrating when “muggles” (non cancer people) don’t understand that even though the chemo has stopped, the battle is not necessarily over. There is a very big possibility Griffin will not be able to have children, that he will be diagnosed with cancer again before the age of 50, and that he will be diagnosed with at least one major chronic condition related to his cancer treatments.
The struggle is real. The struggle is not over. The struggle will follow him for his entire life. But the struggle makes him stronger. The struggle makes the good times even sweeter. The struggle showed us who our friends are, what our blessings are and taught us the most important lesson of all…you cannot ever let cancer win. Ever.
Waking up, groggy and mad about the IVA little Among Us gamer time!
Just to start, my son Griffin was diagnosed with Rhabdomyosarcoma in his eye orbit at the age of 22 months waaaay back in 2011. He is now 10 years old and continues to be cancer free.
When the lockdown first began, in March of 2020, I was excited to have a week or two off over March break with my son. I figured we would get some down time together, watch a couple of movies, maybe do some light renos around the house. But as the lockdown continued, my world started to shrink and the flashbacks of cancer isolation started to fill my thoughts. Back in 2011, we had to put ourselves in isolation in order to keep Griffin safe. We didn’t go to stores or the spa, we didn’t visit or chill. If we did go anywhere, we wore a mask. I remember people looking at us like we had three heads in a pharmacy once. I just wanted to wear a sign on my back that explained all of this so the staring would stop.
So as the lockdown came upon us in 2020, the PTSD of Griffin’s cancer fight came creeping back. First it affected my dreams, I would dream that his cancer is back or covid gave him cancer or the like. Then I just started feeling very isolated in my own home, just like when Griffin was sick. I wasn’t alone but I felt very alone.
I had been working at my job for the past 16 years. I had to take time off when Griffin was sick and we were laid off during the pandemic as the government shut our workplace down as non essitial. I valued my work highly and without working, I felt very useless. I’m not one to enjoy being on government assistance. I like earning my own money and enjoying what I earned. It was very hard for me to wrap my head around that I was now suddenly unemployed. I now had to start job searching…are resumes still a thing? How does one look for jobs? Who is going to hire an old lady like me??? My depression took hold at this point. It was very hard to apply for job after job with zero response. Or go to interviews and hear nothing back. I felt like a failure, who was past her prime but at the same time, I refused to take a job for minimum wage or work in a field I was not excited about. I knew this was going to be an uphill battle, I just wasn’t sure if I was ready for the fight or even wanting to fight? At this point I just wanted to curl up in a ball on my bed and never come out.
Once summer hit and the restrictions were lifted a little bit, my parents joined our bubble. It gave us somewhere to go every day. A reason to get out of bed and get dressed. It got me out of my depressive funk and back into being a functioning adult. My mother is quite good at amusing us and there was always something to do. From swimming in the neighbours pool, to making garden gazing balls or tea on the back patio, to raising butterflies and releasing back into the wild. We started making masks which we gave out to our local community and cancer networks for free. It was something small but it gave back to the fight. It gave me a job. It didn’t pay but it made my mind busy and kept me above water! (To date we have given away over 1500 masks!)
I was amazed at the change and growth that 2020 brought to us! People learned how to garden again, they took the time and love to foster animals and complete new DIY projects that they never had time for before. It brought back intimate home cooked dinners and family game nights. It brought campfires in the back yard and hikes in the woods. It brought a rise of homeschooling and reading to your kids. It sold out of bikes and home gym equipment. It inspired us to learn new hobbies, skills, crafts. We helped our neighbours, our communities and reached out to family and friends virtually. We found new ways to communicate, celebrate and remember. It gave us time to slow down…literally smell the roses and enjoy what we actually have. Yes, we had to sacrifice some things like international travel and cruises but look at all we gained! LOOK AT IT! It is up to us to find that silver lining in this whole situation.
I learned that you can make your circumstances what they are. You can look at your quarantine time as a punishment or you can make it a blessing. Our time fighting cancer has shown that our family is strong and that I am strong. I am not defined by my profession but I am defined by what I choose to do. I feel blessed that I have had this year at home with my healthy son and my loving husband and we are able to have the time to slow down and appreciate what we do actually have and not focus on what we are missing.
That if I wasn’t here, she wouldn’t still be here.
Let that sink in for a moment…
That if I wasn’t here, she wouldn’t still be here.
That if I wasn’t here, she wouldn’t still be here.
It took me aback for a minute. I took it like, if I wasn’t here, neither would she be, as in like…life. It could go so many ways, suicide? Running away? Wither up and dying from my lack of horrid jokes and hummus desk snacks?
She said it seriously, with tears in her eyes. I was speechless for a moment. That is quite a powerful message to hand someone…without an explanation. But that significant message was oh-so precious. It must be handled carefully, like a delicate orchid and treasured for the meaning behind it. It is not something you can laugh off or pish posh.
If you weren’t here, I wouldn’t be here. Think about it.
Looking back on it now, I believe she was speaking of work, like she would have quit her job by now. But either way, it is quite the statement.
She values our friendship so much that my simply being here, alters her life, her path, her choices. That my dear folks, is friendship at its most deepest and cherished level. We are not simply co-workers that sit beside each other and fill our days with idle chitchat. I care about her life, I feel like I know her daughters and mother on a deeper level than I actually do. I feel her pain and I share her shining moments. We get a kick out of word play and grammar puns, she is my go-to gal for English questions, like, “do you ‘bare’ with me or ‘bear’ with me? Either way sounds not too fun!” She cares about others, to the point that she puts herself out. She will stay late after her shift to finish your conversation and she slips you a homemade concoction of essential oils when you have the sniffles. She is older than me by a generation I would say. One of her daughters is my age and yet, I don’t feel “mothered” or that generational gap that I feel with other older people…she is just…her. Beautiful in both mind and spirit. She often gives me pause. She will say something or forward me something to read and I have to actually think about it before I respond. She understands life differently than most. She understands life on a different level than most. She gets what is hidden in-between the lines and words and interprets them for me. She stops and looks at sunsets and frost patterns on windows. She sees the beauty that most of us just walk by without notice. She literally stops to smell the roses. She’s like a Buddhist monk hidden in a little lady’s body who wears 2 coats in the winter for quite logical reasons.
Cancer has taken so much from her and although we have cancer in common, both being caregivers and supporters, our journeys have taken very different paths. Our roads with grief, guilt, stress and eventually healing has been rocky and bumpy and filled with potholes. But we share it together, over cold leftover toast and a cuppa tea.
She has seen some dark places but she has also lived in the light. She married her very best friend only for him to be taken away by cancer at a young age. You can tell his presence is missed daily and also deeply. She lights up when she tells stories about him. There is a twinkle in her eye that is rarely there…it is great to see. And yet, the pain is evident. She sometimes reminds me a granite boulder. Strong and powerful, hard to break and why would you want too, as the colour and texture is breathtaking. And yet, there is a crack. A single, small, chip in her granite. The water gets in, year after year, the fall of winter and the rise of summer brings this crack to the surface, getting bigger, more significant and stands out. It is absolutely heartbreaking to see a chip in a perfect piece of granite and not be able to do anything about it. No amount of duct tape, hugs, tea or alcohol (my go-to fixer uppers) will fix this crack. It will always be there. That is what cancer does. Cracks a perfect life, splits a happy marriage and family, chips a woman until she is on her knees baring the weight of all these broken pieces on her back. This is not weight that anyone else can carry. I hope with time and support and love, she will be able to stand tall again. Some days are worse than others, for both of us. But I think, together, we got this…
We may differ in so many ways, her husband died, my son survived. She struggles with loss and loneliness, I struggle with clinginess and neediness, I love pretzels , she threatens my life if I mention them and she is Scottish where I am English! It is amazing we can even sit together! And yet, as shitty as cancer is, I feel like this friendship is something amazing that came out of it.
And on some levels, if she were no longer here, a very big, granite sized piece of me would be gone too…
And please remember, no matter how alone you are feeling, you are never, ever, ever alone. Please reach out…
For pretty much my entire childhood my Grandmother would try to teach me how to knit. I remember spending hours upon hours in her basement, frustrated to be kept indoors while the boys were outside playing. I thought knitting sucked and hated it. Fast forward 20 (cough..cough…or so?) years and my 22 month old son was diagnosed with Rhabdomyosarcoma. My world was flipped upside down…as I stumbled through life, trying desperately to grab anything that felt “normal” I tried knitting again in the hospital as my son slept off the chemo. My skills with two needles is severely lacking, I had trouble keeping the proper tension as my life would shift from high to low in a heartbeat. My grandmother now suffers from dementia and I never learned how to cast off so the never ending scarf is approx. 12 feet long. It is as shapely as a curvy lady with a magnificent hourglass figure. Not very desired in the fibre arts, but it’s my chemo scarf and it’s hideous but I wouldn’t change it for the world. My stress was taken out on those stitches. The hours ticked by as my needles clicked together. That sound still reminds me of my grandmother.
Fast forward two years, my son is cancer free and recovering wonderfully! And I, as a Cancer Mama was not. I suffered from depression, PTSD and survivors guilt. I was trying very hard at keeping afloat but having serious trouble with sleep and “thinking” about things. I would lie awake at night haunted by what I had seen, the other cancer kids we had lost and how I could possibly be happy when other kids are suffering.
One day I woke up and thought to myself, I’m wasting my time, if I’m going to be awake, I might as well be DOING something! I ordered myself a set of cheap crochet hooks and some (horrid) yarn on line determined to teach myself how to crochet. I figured I could stay up all night crocheting chemo hats for the kids at the clinic. At least my suffering would be of use!!!
That one little decision changed my world!
My Survivor Griffin dropping off the hats my crochet group made! Spreading the love!
Cutest little baby hat ever!
Now, a year later, I am a full blown crochet addict! And proud of it! I have started a crochet group in my hometown as people from all walks of life gather to gab and learn. My stress is pretty much nonexistent now as I know my hook and yarn will be there for me. If I’m feeling anxious at the doctor’s office? I whip out the good ol’ yarn bag. People young and old ask me what I’m doing, what I’m making, I make friends wherever I go! It opens up the line of communication and brings awareness to childhood cancer as I tell them I’m making chemo hats for the kids.
Road Trip Crochet!
Stressed out by scanxiety while travelling to your hospital? Crochet a granny square style blanket to keep a chemo patient warm in those chemo chairs! My husband calls it road trip crochet! (Not while you are driving of course! Yikes!)
Crochet seems to me anyway, easier than knitting and I am able to give someone something that I made with my own hands and with love. When I hand over a blanket, I know it took me hours and hours to make. I hope they love it as much as I do. It’s like giving someone a homemade hug they can take home!
Yarn friends are odd friends! Mary and I doing a little retail therapy before her surgery!
But the most important lesson of all? You have the power to change your life. You really, seriously do. Yes, I know crochet sounds ridiculous. But find your hobby, find your love, painting, sewing, pottery, tattooing or gardening, whatever makes your heart sing! And make some amazing friends along the way!
So your baby has just been diagnosed with Cancer. Now what?
The Web
Calm down, take a deep breath, now breathe…and get off the internet…seriously. You will scare yourself silly with the horrors you can find on the web. I did. If you must troll the interwebs, ask your Doctor for trusted sites and stick to sites like the Canadian Cancer Society or the official site for your type of cancer. (Sarcoma Foundation, etc) You cannot trust everything you read on the net and most importantly, you can easily mix up actual fact that your doctors give you with the crap you read on the web. Stick to the internet for things like fundraising or support but leave the info and investigating to the professionals!
Get Organized
Start a binder/notebook/journal. Something to keep track of your child’s day to day. I had a binder that had different sections. The first was a business card plastic holder thingy that I kept all the businesses cards of all the doctors we saw, as well as any other business cards that were important (social worker, travelling nurse, and even the serial number of his port that they implanted!) It was a great go-too in a pinch because I can NEVER remember a Doctors name when put on the spot! LOL Second was a calendar, on that went all his appointments. Yes, I had one on my phone, but this was the master list. Everyone referred to this and it was all knowing. Next was a chart of his meds. At one point he was on 24 different meds, all at different times, different doses and some were before a meal, some with food, some after. Just thinking about it gave me hives. Once I was able to make a no fail chart, it was actually so easy! We had a little tray that I would line up all the syringes, in order for the day. It actually worked quite well! I even numbered the chart and then wrote the corresponding number on the top of the medicine bottle to help me even further! (some of the meds had kinda the same name so it was hard to tell the difference or the generic name was on the bottle but the brand name was on my chart-non helpful! LOL) Next came all the results. I had all the paper work from scan results, as well as lab results. Whenever we met with someone, I would ask for the readout. I can’t tell you how useful this was! You could actually spot trends in his blood work! AMAZING! And lastly, misc stuffs like camp info, disability papers, etc. Carting around all this info is heavy but it is sooo useful! Now, I mentioned a journal. When Griff was first in the hospital, we didn’t know what he had, just a large, fast growing bump above his eye. The doctors would ask a million questions and I found if I kept a journal, I could better answer those. Like how long has the bump been this colour? When was his last bowel movement, how long as he been on this med? I kept a journal of his daily life. It was great if my hubby was not there, he would know how the day went and which doctors came to visit etc. I would highly recommend it!
Clean
Clean your hands, clean yourself, clean your house, your car, your freaking cat. Clean EVERYTHING. Because your kid will no longer have an immune system, he will catch everything. Scrub your hands, right up to the elbow, clean every toy you have in your house. We even rolled up the rug in the living room, the hardwoods were easier to clean! There are some organizations that will clean for cancer families, but we were not so lucky. My Mum was a godsend and would help me out a lot in the cleaning dept. (and laundry…oh gawd the laundry…)
Connect
Yes, your hair is a mess, but that lady looking at you from across the room? She just wants to talk to another Cancer Mama like her but is too stressed or too tired or too scared to reach out. Children are a great ice breaker. Give your kid a snack and send them to the middle of the room. He will attract other steroid raging children that will gobble up the snacks like sharks! You and the Mamas can laugh about it and it will get the conversation started. I was lucky enough to connect with and keep in connect with some amazing families throughout Griffin’s journey and today they are some our most dearest friends. These Mamas understand what you are going through, something that your friends and family will never truly understand. And that’s okay, personally, I never want them to understand. Its just too heartbreaking.
Support
There are a gaggle of support networks out there for you, depending on what you are comfortable with. (Please see the “helpful links” on the sidebar) Depending where you are, there are groups and foundations. Inquire with your hospital, our Social Worker had great resources. Anything from “wish” programs, to support groups, to Cancer Camps to government funding, there is something out there for you and your family. Just reach out.
Talk
You need to talk. Get things off your chest. I personally found that I did not want to “burden” my friends and family more with the gory truth so I looked for outside help. Inquire with your social worker at the hospital. There might be a therapist or support group that specializes in your child’s type of cancer? I had an amazing therapist that helped me through the good times and the bad. But its not just about sitting on the couch and crying. She gave me great tips to combat anxiety when I’m not in her office. She also gave me awesome tips and “go-tos” (words or sentences to say when people ask you/say something that makes you uncomfortable or is something you can’t talk about at that moment.) Example: When I returned to work, every person I encountered asked how Griffin was. This can be exhausting to try to answer this question, in full, 1000 times in one day. So we came up with an answer like, “it is quite complicated but he is very happy and comfortable at the moment. Can I explain over lunch?” It avoided the hard stuff that made me cry, it answered their question for now and shut them up. win, win, win.
Camp
You might not be a “campy” sort of person, and that’s okay, but the odds are your kid is! Here in Ontario we have Camp Trillium and Camp Ooch which are fabulous free camps for Cancer Kids that lets them be themselves in a safe and understanding environment. Those memories will last a lifetime and the time us Mamas have alone/together is priceless! Yes, it seems like more work to bring a cancer kid to Camp, but trust me, it is sooooo worth it!
YOU
As a Mother, your child usually comes before you always, but as a Cancer Mama, you tend to neglect yourself. Remember to eat. I thankfully had a very good support system that would remind me to eat but not everyone has that. Doesn’t matter if its just a granola bar or a shake. Eat something. And remember to take care of yourself. You cannot look after your child properly if you are a mess yourself. Allow yourself to have a quiet moment for a tea, do Yoga in the hospital room! I even know a Mum who sewed, she brought her whole sewing machine into the hospital when her child was admitted!!! Give yourself an afternoon and get a pedi. You deserve it!!! Yes money is tight, but what is your sanity worth?!?!?!
And the most important thing? YOU ARE NOT ALONE. I know it may seem like it, but there are millions of Mamas out there, just like you. We would love to talk to you. Reach out, spread your wings, kick Cancer’s butt and love yourself while doing it!
The tiny silver star has a well-deserved place among the very tip top branches of my Christmas tree. The star has a hole in the middle with a crystal hanging inside. This little star means so much to me.
In Dec of 2011, my 22 month old son Griffin was diagnosed with Rhabdomyosarcoma, a rare and aggressive type of muscle Cancer that grew in his eye orbit. That holiday season was the scariest and most heart wrenching Christmas my little family had ever been through. We didn’t know if Griffin was going to make it and my Husband & I didn’t know if this would be his last Christmas…
After 48 weeks of chemo, 25 radiation treatments directly to his face, and countless pokes, scans and appointments, December of 2012 rolled around and that year, Griffin was Cancer Free!!! You would think I would have been so happy, unfortunately I was not. My heart and soul were hurt from all the cancer kids we had lost that past year as well as all the kids still fighting. I could not let myself feel happy while others were still suffering. Some mothers did not have their babies that Christmas, how guilty and horrid was I to enjoy mine?
I struggled with PTSD, survivor’s guilt and depression until I found this cheap little tin star at our pharmacy while I was getting meds for my son. It sparkled at me, it reminded me of the sparkle in the eye of one particular child we had lost recently. I clung to that ornament all the way home, crying tears of sadness but also relief. I realized that I could HONOUR those children with a place on my tree. I can remember them, laugh at their memories and remember their sparkle. These families would not want me to suffer; they would not want me to be consumed with guilt over something neither of us can help!
So Griffin is five now, perfectly healthy and happy. And so am I. Each year, I hang that amazing little star near the tip of my tree, the little crystal catching all the light and winking at me. These Cancer Kids are not forgotten, but they are no longer painful. I will always remember those children with this little silver star. I will always remember their bravery, courage and heart.
In December of 2011 my little 22 month old son Griffin was diagnosed with Rhabdomyosarcoma, a rare and aggressive type of muscle cancer that grew in his right eye orbit. We spent three weeks in the hospital trying to get a diagnosis and then a biopsy before returning home on Dec 20th with our answer. CANCER. I got a freaking DISEASE in my BABY for Christmas. I was a mess inside but an emotionless zombie on the outside. Mentally, I knew I had a job to do but no idea how I was actually going to do it!
After living in the hospital for three weeks, totally unprepared, I was dreading coming home to an empty house. We never had time to put up any decorations, a tree or even a few lights outside. I was dreading coming around the corner to see my sad house, the only one not lit up on the block. It kind of represented how I was feeling. Sad, dark and alone.
Griffin and my Hubby Marty in the RMH ad
My husband drove our car around the corner and grabbed my hand. There were lights on our maple trees! There were ribbons on our bushes, lights along our house. Our little house was BEAMING with holiday cheer! HOW DID THIS HAPPEN!?! I ran out of the car in my hospital slippers into the snow to watch the wonder of our house. I stood in the snow, looking up at my trees. This was not a professional job at all. It looked like Christmas barfed on my lawn. The lights were mismatched and crooked. Any other year, this would have bothered the OCD inside me, this year? My heart SANG!!! I’ve never been on the receiving end of a Christmas miracle, it was absolutely amazing!!!
It turns out, my co-workers contacted my Mum to see how they could help my family. And then they took up a collection of old Xmas lights (That explains the mismatching lights) and then some volunteers came over the night before to attack my house. But when they got there, they realized that they didn’t have a ladder and all the SHORT people volunteered to help! HAHAHA so only the very lowest branches of my maple trees at lights, the short bushes had ribbons and they had lined the MIDDLE of my house with lights not the roof top. Apparently someone had tripped on and landed on the drainspout of my house, falling and crushing it. Hearing this story made me cry so hard, happy tears. These were my awesome co-worker family, nutty and amazing.
I noticed that I craved a sense of normal in my life. I did not want to be a Cancer Mama. I was forced into it. Once you are diagnosed with Cancer, your little world is tipped upside down, people don’t treat you the same and you don’t even recognize yourself in the mirror. The familiar feeling of Christmas lights in my trees and wrapping my house in cheer was the EXACT pick-me-up my little family needed.
If someone you know has been diagnosed during the holiday season, please reach out and see what they need. SUGGEST what you can do. Lots of people would “say” just tell me what you need, well sometimes, I don’t know what I need! Or I don’t want to impose, but if you offered to make Christmas dinner, or maybe a trees put up, cards mailed or cookies baked? Maybe their driveway shoveled? Or even just a nice chat with a cup of cocoa to warm the soul. Most would take you up on your offer!!!
All cancer survivors! Walking together, surviving together!
Have you ever felt guilty about something? Maybe you stepped on a bug on the sidewalk? Elbowed your kid in the head by mistake? Ran over a squirrel in your car? I think we have all done these things, felt guilty about it for a moment and moved on. I once was shopping in Zellars (The Canadian version of Kmart) with my Mom, and I was young enough not to be able to see over the counter, so I was five maybe? I was REALLY excited over this new Barbie my Mum let me pick out. I clutched her in my arms throughout the entire store, I looked into her eyes and day dreamed of the dressing changes we would be doing and plastic car rides we would be going on. My Mum bustled me along, as she grabbed her bags to leave. Out in the parking lot she realized I was still clutching the dang Barbie and had not paid for it. I remember her DRAGGING me back into the store like some common criminal. I was embarrassed, but more than anything, I felt GUILTY. Like a deep ache of guilt, like would be Mum ever forgive me? Could I ever forgive myself? Will I still get into College?
Fast forward 20 years and here I sit, snuggling with my beautiful healthy five year old boy that happens to be a cancer survivor. Yes, we have a few side effects and setbacks due to Cancer, but in the grand scheme of things, we had a very lucky journey. As I sit here, running my hands through his hair that grew back a much darker colour, I cannot help but to think of the friends of ours that are still battling the disease. Why is my child ok but theirs has relapsed? Why did they go through 12 ports and ours was perfectly fine? Why is my child alive while theirs is dead? The guilt swallows me up some days. Do I deserve to have a healthy child when some great Mums out there are missing theirs? I can’t wrap my head around it. Logically, I know it’s silly, I should be shouting from the roof tops and dancing a jig at our luck. But how can I be celebrating when other kids are dying? When other kids are still fighting? Apparently it’s called Survivors guilt which is a part of my PTSD. That’s great that there is a nice little name for it…but how do I fix it?
The long and the short of it? I DID make it in to college, LOL the Barbie trauma is long behind me. But the Survivors Guilt? I find myself inserting myself into my Cancer Community, doing things like running a Parent’s Support group, organizing a Super Hero sewing bee so every sick kid gets a Courage Cape and lots of fundraising events through the year. Events like Relay for Life is a great day where Cancer Families and their supporters plus great members of the community get together to walk together and raise money. Its a way of connecting. Look up your local Cancer Society or Ronald McDonald House as they always never volunteers I feel like instead of filling my heart with guilt and dread, I actively fill my heart with love from these other Cancer families. Yes, by putting myself out there, I could get hurt again as our friends may relapse but the love far outweighs any of the bad.
The guilt? I will never be able to fix it but I CAN put it in a figurative little box, with a pretty little bow. I know it’s always there, tugging at my heartstrings but I don’t have to open it all the time. I keep it close to my heart, I think about those kids all the time but I’ve learned that it doesn’t have to take over my whole day, I don’t let the guilt consume me anymore. I’m allowed to laugh and enjoy my cancer-free child. We all know life is just too precious and too short to be worried about something I cannot change.
Hug your babies tight tonight…and remember, you are not alone.
We have talked about losing your child, we have discussed the loss of friendships, now lets talk about a different type of loss…your innocence. I know this might sound odd at first. But I find myself grieving my loss of innocence and now I’m intimately surrounded with Cancer, and hospitals and everything that goes with it. I didn’t go into a medical field on purpose. I don’t want to see the ugly realities of cancer and sick babies. I hate that Cancer has FORCED me to be an expert in the field of Momcology. I don’t like that I can change a feed tube, de-access a port, or give a shot in the leg like a pro. I want to be a Mum. I want to raise my child without the constant worry of illness. I feel that I can’t let him go like I should. I’m a hovering helicopter Mum, making sure he doesn’t hurt himself, or hang out with the kid with the runny nose or lick the swing. Yes, Griffin is Cancer free now, but I don’t feel like I’M cancer free. I wonder if I ever will be? I’ve seen the dark side of life. I’ve danced with the idea of losing my child. I’ve seen how fragile life can be, can I ever go back to the carefree days? I don’t think so. Once you have opened that door, the fear and anxiety creep in. I’ve watched as they radiated my son while I hid behind lead, I know what its like to watch your child get sick in your arms and to be helpless to help them. I’ve watched other Mums grieve their babies while I hug mine tight. Its a reality that haunts me to this day. Am I crippled by it? No, but some days it still hurts. A lot. Its not something that I think about everyday or anything, but every now and then it keeps me up at night. I hate that my head is no longer mine…
Everyone knows that October is Breast Cancer Awareness month, everything is pink, pink ribbons everywhere! But did you know, just a few weeks earlier our Cancer Kids try to get the word out in September about Childhood Cancers! So please, for our littlest warriors, share some info, wear a gold ribbon and hug a chemo kid! 😀
Life living with, through and after Cancer from a Parent’s point of view.
