A Year Ago

A year ago this week, I had a CT scan that showed very swollen lymph nodes in my abdomen.  A year ago today, I read the CT scan summary report online and saw words like "likely lymphoma" flash across my computer screen.  (By the way, I don't recommend reading any medical reports online before your doctor calls you with the results.  Also, they shouldn't post those because people like me will always read them.)   On the first day of teacher orientation last year, I got the call about my results.  Phrases like " possibly cancer" and "maybe an infection" were thrown around.  I had a biopsy at Brigham and Women's Hospital later that week and five days after that, on the third day of school, found out that I had cancer.

I remember those moments, days and weeks only through feelings.  Shock. Exhaustion. Fear. Anger. Sadness. Dread. Heartache.  I don't remember how I called my friends and told them.  I don't remember how I got through telling all of my students.  I remember the pain I felt calling my parents to tell them.  I remember collapsing into Janelle's arms and knowing that our world would never be the same. I remember feeling so incredibly alone in my pain. While at times I still feel alone as I sit in fear, sadness, or anger, I also feel buoyed by my people and the beauty around me.  By my kiddos.  By the Arnold Arboretum.  By storm cat.  By my family and friends. When I think over this past year, I look back with gratitude, awe, and pride.

Tomorrow is our first day back for teacher orientation and I feel a bit unsettled.  Perhaps in the back of my mind, I'm worried that I'll get another terrible phone call.  But I won't.  I just met with my oncologist on Friday and everything looked great.  However, there's still a weird sense of dread sitting in my stomach.  I think I'm waiting for my world to collapse again.  And I'm not sure if I'll ever be rid of that fear.  Once that rug gets pulled out from under you one time, I'm not sure how you can ever trust it again.  I'm slowly learning how to find peace even with that unease still lingering.

Gratitude carried me through the roughest moments of this year.  I think it's in my nature to look for the light.  The good. The happiness.  As I've been reflecting lately, I've realized that sometimes, in my attempt to get to a place of gratitude, I have buried my anger, sadness, or fear.  In search of light or joy, I haven't fully let myself feel those really hard feelings sometimes.  I'm just now coming to terms with some of the anger I feel towards cancer.  I've felt anger about my low energy and stamina, the choices I've had to make, the financial strain of cancer treatment, my reliance on medical research, my fear, how this has impacted Janelle and my family, how cancer controls my future, the fertility conversations I've had to have, and the many many medical tests I've endured.  I feel weird even writing about my anger because I don't want to appear to be ungrateful for my healthy and amazing life.

Over this past year, whenever I've felt anger, I've pushed it aside because gratitude is much easier for me to feel and experience.  As a result, I've stumbled upon some pretty heavy anger as my 1-year diagnosis date approaches. In a way, this realization has given me the chance to use my anger as fuel to start fundraising for Dana-Farber and to celebrate my healthy body. Luckily, I've slowly been learning that anger and gratitude can coexist in me.  I don't need to bury one to feel the other.  I have to practice acknowledging both emotions and honoring how each needs to be expressed.  I know it will take time. I hope the day will come when I revel in my gratitude but also sit in peace with my anger.  Some day.

I've been reliving a lot in my mind and heart, as I didn't really process much of anything at the time.  While it's painful to relive all of the horrible emotions that came along with my diagnosis and the beginning of treatment, it's also amazing to be here today.  Healthy.  Happy.  Engaged. Blessed.

Here's to a new school year of health and celebration!

Also, please consider donating to the Jimmy Fund Walk.  I will be walking with Janelle, my parents, Janelle's family, and friends.  The money from the Jimmy Fund Walk goes towards Dana-Farber cancer research and patient programs.  My future depends on medical advances in the field of follicular lymphoma so at times I feel quite desperate.  Today, I'm just hopeful.  So please donate to my walk and help make cancer part of my past.  Thank you all of your ongoing support and encouragement.  Every little thing helps.

Donate to my Jimmy Fund Walk!