Her husband is 7.5 years past his initial diagnosis of stage IV brain cancer (Glioblastoma). The same type of brain cancer Dad was diagnosed with almost 19 months ago. And now, the cancer is back for her husband. Her recent post was titled "This is the Hardest Part of Getting Treatment for Brain Cancer." Throughout the post I found myself having tears in my eyes and a smile on my face. Because her words have been my exact thoughts these last 19 months.
The smile comes from these words, because I'm pretty sure I've thought exactly this-
"I'm almost through it [discussing scheduling surgery and treatment]. I'm almost to that finish line where I look around for the medal I've earned through all this BS, and instead I'm reminded that in this decathlon I've only finished the first event."
And she ends her post by saying:
"But I'm going to get through all of them. We're all going to get through all of them, even those secret ones I don't know the details for yet. We'll get through them, whatever they are. And my reward will be standing on the other side, slumped exhausted against the man I love, knowing we're going into another hard part together."
It's interesting, because at the start of Dad's cancer, I kept living by the expression, "Just get through these next 5 minutes", or, "just get through this next day." And slowly the 5 minute increments, and one day increments, I used to "get through it", have now become almost 19 months. And when I look at the battles we've faced, I wonder how we did it all with smiles on our faces, how we managed to make it through some of those days (and sometimes, some of those 5 minute increments) without completely breaking. But we did. And we will continue to get through those moments, whatever they may be in the future.
As our chemo week hits the half-way mark, we are still fighting through the side effects of it all, and Dad is handling it like a true champ. If anyone here deserves a medal, it's that man. He takes it all in so much stride and I've never once heard him complain about any of it. I'm so incredibly proud of him.
Chemo sucks. Ask anyone who has or is battling cancer. You live in this world where you love chemotherapy, and then hate it, all at the same time. I can't fully describe this feeling of loving something so much for giving us quality time with Dad, but then also hating it for the week Dad has to face the side effects. It's a constant struggle for me.
I look at the story of a woman who's husband is 7.5 years out and can't help but hope and pray that our story is all so similar to her's, that Dad has much more time with us here to continue to inspire so many.
On this path, we are truly faced with difficult days- days where it all seems so incredibly overwhelming, days where doctor's appointments and insurance claims, chemotherapy medication and financial responsibilities all seem to try and get the best of us. But this path, so perfectly created for us, has such beautiful moments as well. Glimpses of Dad pre-cancer come out often, and I realize how blessed I am that I get to cherish those moments and really appreciate Dad. I get to sit and take mental pictures of my Dad and those are memories that I will have for a lifetime.
As chemo week ends, we continue to pray the treatment is working to suppress any tumor growth. We know the tumor can return, we know the chances of that are in fact, very high. But we also know that we've got to "Keep [our] eyes on [Him], not only for direction but also for empowerment. [He] will never lead you to do something without equipping you for the task."
Keep the prayers coming, as Dad continues to fight to BTHO Brain Cancer!
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