It’s been nearly a year since I received the phone call at work from a nurse telling me I had breast cancer. A few days earlier I lay on a table awaiting a needle biopsy on the 3 year anniversary of the day my sister died from cancer. My mom had it too, but hers like mine was caught early and I am grateful to have her to lean on when things become overwhelming. Her mother died at age 30, when my mom was only 4 years old.
My 12-year-old son, Carson, describes cancer in a poem earlier this year titled “Family.”
“I didn’t tell you that I might have a mutated gene, that will make it more of a chance to get cancer. I didn’t tell you that my family has been pelted with cancer their whole life, because they have a history of cancer.”
A few months after my first two operations, we learn that my boyfriend Dean has melanoma that will require surgery.
Just as 2017 is starting, the most unsettling news of all is delivered. It turns out Austin and I have a specific genetic mutation that makes us and other family members at a higher risk for a number of different cancers. An MRI performed on Austin reveals a brain mass. The experts at Children’s Hospital in Denver concur that as long as Austin remains free of symptoms, no growth occurs and has regular screenings it may not be cause for concern.
In 10 months three people living under one roof, including my 16-year-old son, are diagnosed with tumors.
At times, it’s excruciatingly hard not to get bogged down in the what ifs of this new reality. I don’t always do a very good job of being reasonable. I refuse to say we “are lucky.” There is nothing lucky about any of these diagnoses.
This year I am learning how to breathe. Sometimes that is the only way to get through to the next moment.
Today I page through my bulging medical journal with appointment note scribbles, doctor’s office business cards, grocery lists, and things I wrote down this year to remind myself to be grateful for what is good in my life.
Learning to walk, even when my legs want to run, because the rest of my body needs me to take it slow
Taking my great-nephew Giles Fox for his very first swim at Eldorado Springs Pool
Riding and talking with Austin as he drives a car
Having excellent medical care and insurance
Appreciating the warmth of friendship and kindness from every area of my life—-family, church, school, work, operating, recovery and waiting rooms
Marrying Dean, a thoughtful, caring, funny, and most considerate man and combining our two loving families
Being able to watch Carson as he gracefully glides down a mountain on skis
Witnessing both of my boys grow up to be really amazing young people
Living in the moment is difficult for me. I’m a worrier. Sometimes my mind wants to run even though my heart needs to take it slow. Breathe. Everyday I am learning.
Dodge & Burn 
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