Cancer-versary
Reclaiming A Day of Tragedy to A Celebration of Resilience
As Christmas descends on our house as planned by the great inventors of a 12-month calendar and our brand of Christianity, it is often a month of reflection and celebration. December is a busy month for our family. We kick off with a wedding anniversary, roll into a birthday, a niece's birthday, Christmas, and then another niece's birthday all before New Year’s Eve. Last year in between picking an anniversary present and Christmas gift shopping, Pey got sick. What I thought was possibly a bad viral infection flipped our lives forever. A month that should have been filled with celebrations came to a standstill with her diagnosis. Her first life-saving surgery to relieve the pressure in her brain was the day after our wedding anniversary. The 9-hour surgery to remove the tumor in her brain took place two days later. My husband and I had to take shifts to be with both our children for the holiday. Pey and I watched Big Sister open presents over FaceTime. Pey received presents in the hospital that she could barely interact with as she slowly regained strength in her limbs. The days blurred together. Suddenly it was New Year's Eve. Pey and I started the year separated from my husband and Big Sister. Foreshadowing what our year would mainly encompass.
Last month I started getting all the big feelings again as flashbacks of the weeks leading to Pey's diagnosis reappeared. Again, the guilt I had mentioned in a previous post came rushing back. The pain of the face and voice of a former colleague telling me a mass was found in her brain. The immediate transfer to PICU where I was told she needed urgent surgery because she could die and later that the delayed closing of a fontanelle (an opening between the bones of the skull that fuse throughout the first year of life) had been saving her life for who knows how long. The pressure in her head was almost triple of an average child her age. With all these thoughts swimming in my head, I looked to the anniversary of that day as a reminder of all the heartbreak we endured. I was left asking myself. Do I pretend it is just another day? Do I grant myself permission to wallow in the pain and all the things we have lost this year? Or do I go the opposite route? Turn it into a day of celebration of our daughter that has displayed unmeasurable resilience and bravery. Celebrate the strength of spirit and flexibility Big Sister has demonstrated. Celebrate the perseverance, strength, and camaraderie my husband and I strive toward. Or overall how our little family of four has come together through the challenges we've faced. After some contemplation and discussion, I felt we deserved to celebrate our strength through that time.
I wanted to reclaim this day (or week) for us. I wanted to take a moment to acknowledge all the tragedy and hurt from that time. Those days are painful memories but from that, we have learned so much about ourselves and our children. I can't say how much Pey has surprised me with her tenacity, resilience, and exuberance. In the beginning, I was worried how she would do with everything she had been through and what lay ahead. I didn’t have to worry. Shortly after she showed her tenaciousness, determination and the stubborn aspects of her qualities really shined. Soon we were getting smiles again. As the weeks progressed she could cared less and less if nurses and staff touched her. She smiles at everyone, waves at people and even offers high fives. Even on her crappiest days, she would crave cuddles but still let everyone do what they needed to do. I am so lucky and grateful for her. I worried the most about Big Sister and over time she demonstrated how wonderful she is. The flexibility in which she adjusted to our change in routine was astounding. She missed her sister but understood that Pey needed to be in the hospital to get special medicine. It wasn't until several months later that she began to ask questions about Pey's diagnosis and treatment. She took the time to draw me pictures and helped me pick toys to bring with me to the hospital. She hugged me and gave me kisses when she saw me crying. When Pey and I moved to San Diego for treatment, Big Sister saw it as a huge adventure. It was our “Holiday house” and her weekend visits would involve going to somewhere new she’d never been. She has been an unstoppable force throughout. Lastly, I'm proud of how hard my husband and I worked to keep our family afloat. At times it felt like we were single parents being overwhelmed by everyday challenges. We found happiness in our short time together between cycles or weekend trips. We worked together through tough decisions and overwhelming emotion. I have new found admiration for his resilience. He commends me for the strength I have displayed. Sometimes it was a struggle to remember we were a team but we always came back to that. We deserve to celebrate our accomplishments as individuals and as a family. We have to celebrate how we are persevering. But how?
It is not a new concept to celebrate a significant event in a cancer story or a Cancerversary. Cancerversaries specifically being a yearly celebration of a specific milestone. It can be different for everyone but tend to be around a remission date, surgery or end of treatment. For people with no growth or cancer cells being present, the marking of time is especially significant. For most cancers being “cancer free” for 5 years is considered cured. I’m sure that those reminders are also a little anxiety provoking as well. For Peyton’s Cancerversary, we decided to have a normal day and end it with an ice cream party. My husband and I took a moment of reflection and explained to Big Sister why the day was important. We praised each other for our individual contributions during the past year. I took a moment to pray for Peyton and our family. Then we donned our party hats and noise makers. We laughed and hugged. Then we made our sundaes. Pey ate some ice cream, proving my ice cream loving genes run deep. It wasn’t big which was the point. We celebrated ourselves and it was perfect.
I am in no position to tell anyone how to mark the occasion of a cancer diagnosis. Do what feels right to you. There is nothing wrong with pretending it’s any ordinary day, being on the edge of tears, or celebrating. I celebrated the day but I didn’t ignore the tears I cried in the morning or the tug on my heart all day. I looked at pictures of her then and compared them to how she looks now. I needed to reclaim this day for our family. A year ago we were suddenly separated but today we sit together in our Christmas decorated home surrounded by lights and myriad of toys. I am thankful to have us all here. I am grateful for all the memories we were able to make. I celebrate our strength.
What are your Cancerversaries and how do you mark the occasion? Leave a comment below.
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