So, I'm sure you can see how long it's been since I've blogged... Considering the outdated bio on the right and the blog post from way back when down below. I'm not sure why I stopped blogging. I guess I just got caught up with life, which is actually a really good thing, in my case. But, today was a wonderful day. And I'm going to tell you why. Fifteen years ago today (earlier, like 9ish), my life was forever changed by just a few words. Inoperable. 3-6 months. Fifteen years ago today, I was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor and given 3-6 months to live. Possibly a year with chemo and radiation, but if there was to be any real quality of life henceforth, my parents were to take me home and make me comfortable and wait for the inevitable to happen. But everybody prayed. And they called other people and other people prayed. People I didn't know who didn't know me prayed and, fast forward to a year later, I was referred to a doctor who could possibly turn things around. I was given the referral by an unlikely hero. If you want to know more about the juicy details, just wait for the memoir, darling. It'll be here before you know it.
A year after my diagnosis, I was able to go to see a doctor in New York; a doctor who had seen my brain scans and said he believed it to be a different type of tumor, one which he could remove. At a cost. So, we went to New York, my parents and I with no real money to pay for the surgery. Maybe if he saw me in person, he wouldn't say the same thing. But he did. And, a miracle after many, a Missouri insurance company faxed a check to cover the surgery. So, we proceeded as scheduled. Before the surgery, the doctor made one thing clear: He could save my life, but the deficits caused by the tumor would remain. Deficits like my left arm, which was paralyzed and curled up at my side, my left leg, also paralyzed, but functioning to a certain degree. At that time I was sleeping 14 hours a day and went into the hospital wheelchair bound. Those things would not change. But we went through with the surgery. It was a 4 hour surgery and the surgeon removed a golf ball sized tumor from a dime sized hole at my hairline.
I awoke the next day from the anesthesia and as doctors came in to assess me, they asked me baseline questions. "Can you lift your left arm?" I tried-the first time in a long time- and, somehow, I did. "Wait, what?" I'm sure they said. "Try it again." So I did. "Lift your leg." So I did. Full on chaos. Doctors don't really know what to do when they see the impossible happen. I'd like to say I remember the feelings of that day, but I really don't. What i do know is that for the last fifteen years, I have been baffling doctors and defying the odds and it could not feel better. Then, I had 3-6 months. Today, I've had 15 years. Then, I wouldn't be able to accomplish anything. Today, I'm a 24 year old author of two published books with a third in production. Then, I had no hope, but today I have an everlasting hope. And the knowledge that with God, anything is possible.
Today, as I went to lunch with my little girls and my parents, I was focused on getting the girls' food and drinks in order and when I came back to the table, my mom was finishing telling the story of today to them. Their eyes were wide, absorbing what they'd just been told. They didn't say anything to me about it later, but after we got home from our celebratory dinner, my five year old came over to me and gave me a big hug and said, "Thank you." I said, "What for?" She replied, "For you." I have to admit, I was taken aback by the moment, not even fully registering for a few seconds. But, I'm pretty sure it wasn't me that the thank you was directed toward. It's an odd feeling, really. I always thought I wouldn't tell my children about it. Something about wanting them to see me as I am now, as I want to be seen, rather than seeing me as something else. But, I'm raising them to be extraoridinary. And part of that is allowing them to see certain parts of the world-the parts that are messy and sometimes sad and out of control. I'm raising them to see need and create solutions. I'm raising them to see loss and realize the importance of life. Which, I guess means that I'll be telling all of my children. And friends, and neighbors, and readers and whoever else will hear, because, dang it, today was my Diagnosis day!
