What doesn't kill us...

Sometimes I worry that I have seen a lot with only being 25 and that I have become too "hardened" to what goes on around me. And sometimes, on the other hand, I worry that I am too sensitive to people's problems and they weigh me down too much, because I have been there like they have. I have been following a story of a young girl, only six years old with neuroblastoma. She was in remission and just found out that she has cancer again. In fact, it's what she and her family got for Christmas. My heart hurts for them so terribly I can't even put in words really how it feels. And I don't even know them. I wonder if this is a problem that I feel this way, or if it's the way more people should feel? I'm not sure.

Life deals us such shit sometimes, and I think it's really interesting how people deal with it. Sometimes people have a hard time finding good in what they've been dealt, and I definitely have been there once or twice. But I later realized that trying to find good, no matter how hard that may be, is a lot more productive and a lot healthier. Even the darkest, most difficult cloud has a silver lining. It may be hard to spot, but it's there.

I think of this young girl and her family dealing with the thought of another tumor, more chemo, lost time spent in hospitals. But how much more they must appreciate Christmas. How much more they love their daughter. How special even the simplest thing must be to them. Because they don't know if they'll have it next year. Or maybe they'll have many more years. It's scary not to know these things, but when it's tested or put on the line, it's amazing how much more enjoyable things can be.

I can definitely relate to that. From the second I heard "leukemia," I questioned my remaining time with my mom. Often, it was on my mind how much longer I would have her, or if there was a possibility it might not end the way I feared. I already appreciated and loved my mom to an unexplainable amount, because we had already been tested with breast cancer, so naturally, our love was a lot stronger than it had been before. So the fact that my heart and my love for her grew even bigger, even stronger, was almost hard to deal with. Meaning, I cared for her so much, that I lived in a constant state of fear of losing her. Despite that, we enjoyed each others company, spent a lot of time together, made jokes, laughed, watched movies, and what seemed like everyday things turned into monumental events for us. A phone conversation is all of the sudden a chance to spill your heart out. Watching a movie becomes possibly one of the last times you'll snuggle in bed together.

I can't tell you how much I miss snuggling in bed together on a Saturday morning watching Paula Deen on the Food Network. That was our favorite. Or how much I miss listening to her hum along to the oldies on the radio. Or how much I miss calling her, hearing her voice, hugging her, knowing that at any moment of the day, she was a short car drive away. And now she is gone. And all of those things are lost and no longer anything to me but memories.

I think about this little 6-year old girl and wonder if she knows that her life is in jeopardy. Cancer is such a horrible thing for anyone to deal with, but it is completely sickening when a baby has to deal with it and maybe even worse for the parents to watch, helpless. But, on the other hand, cancer patients and their families are some of the most appreciative, most resilient people I know. When your life suddenly becomes limited or you can no longer function like yourself and the question of whether or not you ever will again is in the back of your mind, you start to process things a little differently.

My patients who are so sick they need tube feeding come to mind. Just imagine not being able to eat, to taste, anything ever again. A hole in your stomach with fluid being pumped through it to serve as your "meals." The joy of seeing this tube be removed, to see my patients eat again, to see them taste their food and feed themselves and enjoy it....there is nothing better. Because they know what it's like to wonder if they'll ever have that again. It truly is a blessing when they can.

Sometimes I think we need to be challenged in this way. I think about my family and how many times we have been challenged by cancer and all of our losses, about my friend Cheryl who will no longer have a sister because of cancer, and about the young parents of the little girl who will lose all of her pretty blond hair because of cancer. While we are all struggling and ask "Why is this happening?" we are learning to appreciate and to hold on to what we have left. While it's hard, some people are not lucky enough to have this kind of lesson.

I have been thinking a lot about Karyssa, the young girl from the motorcycle accident I witnessed. She is quite a miracle. After having no brain waves and being kept alive only for her organs, she is now out of her coma, eating, talking, answering questions, enjoying her family, and participating in therapy three times a day to regain her life. I can't imagine the heartache a mother would feel, tohave to hear that your sixteen year old daughter is brain dead...and to go from that to realizing she's alive and going to be ok. Can you imagine the appreciation that comes with that? I can't. But it's amazing. I got a Christmas card from her mom: "Thank you for helping Karyssa. This is our most meaningful holiday. Karyssa said one day she would love to meet you. Karyssa is doing very well." Wow. To read that, no matter how many times I already have, it gives me chills.

I am so happy for them that they have their daughter. I'm sure everything, no matter how small, seems like a miracle to them, and my heart is so glad for their miracles. They have been tested far more than a family should have to be tested.

We all should be so lucky to have this kind of appreciation for our families and our loved ones, and it shouldn't take something like cancer or nearly being brain dead to bring about this "new-found" appreciation. It shouldn't be "new-found" and it shouldn't come out the moment we are challenged. Why can't it just be there?

Although I am heartbroken to be without my mom and my life has drastically changed in her absence, I am blessed to have had this experience, to learn from it and to be a better friend, niece, wife, and healthcare provider. "What doesn't kill us makes us stronger" may really have some truth in it.