I love this story! Thanks for the share. It reminds me of my friend Karen, who was diagnosed with ovarian cancer 15-ish years ago and told she had only 4 months to live. You know what she did? She enrolled in graduate school! Everyone thought she was crazy! She just kept on going. Sure, she has had to chase cancer around her body for years. At one point While undergoing treatment she found out she was pregnant (at 20 weeks gestation). She continued with her pregnancy and has a son who despite growing in a mommy bombarded with chemo is just fine (now 9 years old). Her cancer journey continues, but her life is good and full of love and fun.
I can hardly see through my flooding tears to type, but I have to thank you for the link. Despite many, many stories like that of the costumed chemo wingman, even some from within my own circle of familiars, my heart is of the kind that quakes and blanches in the face of death threats. A persistent mantra for me has been: if I was on the Titanic, I'd be one of those sipping more wine while the band plays on ... not racing to hit the life boats. But your whole story, Mamacan, suggests it's time to change mantras. Find the fun? Find the fun in adapting. Find the fun in every present moment of this amazing turn. Lively smiling love to you and the fam. I might even go parading in your honor on Fat Tuesday next week.
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I love this story! Thanks for the share. It reminds me of my friend Karen, who was diagnosed with ovarian cancer 15-ish years ago and told she had only 4 months to live. You know what she did? She enrolled in graduate school! Everyone thought she was crazy! She just kept on going. Sure, she has had to chase cancer around her body for years. At one point While undergoing treatment she found out she was pregnant (at 20 weeks gestation). She continued with her pregnancy and has a son who despite growing in a mommy bombarded with chemo is just fine (now 9 years old). Her cancer journey continues, but her life is good and full of love and fun.
I can hardly see through my flooding tears to type, but I have to thank you for the link. Despite many, many stories like that of the costumed chemo wingman, even some from within my own circle of familiars, my heart is of the kind that quakes and blanches in the face of death threats. A persistent mantra for me has been: if I was on the Titanic, I'd be one of those sipping more wine while the band plays on ... not racing to hit the life boats. But your whole story, Mamacan, suggests it's time to change mantras. Find the fun? Find the fun in adapting. Find the fun in every present moment of this amazing turn. Lively smiling love to you and the fam. I might even go parading in your honor on Fat Tuesday next week.
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