I spent a full day last April in a surgery waiting room at Children's Medical Center with my Aunt & Uncle, my Aunt's sister and my mother. It was one of those days that you are hoping for good news and dreading bad news. My teenage cousin, Veronica, had been put under and was in the care of a neurosurgeon to remove as much of a huge tumor that had been discovered pressing against her spine as possible. The tumor had given her pain for months that doctors had repeatedly said was muscle strain, right up until the moment that it literally began crippling her overnight.
I remember that my Aunt Lynda mentioned several times that the neurosurgeon wasn't very warm and friendly. I told her I thought that other doctors can be warm and fuzzy, but when it comes to a scalpel and your child's spine, that probably isn't a priority. You want the doctor to be clinical and nerdy and hard-core and proficient. You probably don't need him to be someone who holds your hand and makes you feel good. She agreed with me, but I think now it was just something to fret about while we waited.
We all had hope, but we also had dread. There was an unspoken thought among us that if the tumor was bad enough to keep her from walking it couldn't be good. If they were rushing this surgery before more tests, it couldn't be good. But we didn't say it out loud, not one of us. And then the surgeon came out and called Lynda and Greg into a room on their own. I think that Mom and Cheryl and I already knew at that point. After all, good news would have been given with a smile in front of us. When they came back my sweet relatives looked like they had been hit with stun guns. Their daughter, their youngest, their Veronica had Cancer.
We cried, we prayed and we began the fight. For some of us it was a war of prayer, organization and even manual labor to prepare their home for what was to come. For others it was endless driving back and forth, helping with Veronica's brother, overnight stays with Veronica in the hospital so that mom and dad could occasionally sleep at home. Her parents fought the battles of fear, and germs, and medical terms they wish they never heard and extreme exhaustion. Greg even had to face being a tutor for a homebound highschool student until she was assigned a homebound teacher. It has been an extremely long 9 months.
But it hasn't been longer for anyone than Veronica and her mother. Veronica's been poked and prodded and pumped full of so much medicine that she couldn't eat. She lost her hair (bad for anyone, but I think exceedingly hard for a teenage girl), missed countless events with her friends, spent weeks upon weeks in the hospital, faced major set backs in her physical therapy as she dealt with low counts thanks to her chemo. When it was determined that further surgery to remove the remainder of the tumor was not as advisable as other treatments, she received radiation every day for weeks during the summer months which eroded her body and made it painful to eat. She dropped weight dramatically from her already tiny frame.
And Lynda did what any mother would do. She kept on. She pushed Veronica when she had to and she held her when she needed it. And she suffered her daughter's pain ten-fold, wishing she could take it on herself. She prayed. She prayed that they could make it through all the treatments. They did. She prayed that her final scans would be good, because no one was talking about the chance that they wouldn't. The scans were Friday.
I got the call yesterday afternoon. Veronica had chosen her Aunt Mary (my mom) as one of her first phone calls. Her Aunt Mary had spent the night with her in the hospital many times. She had driven her to treatments when her parents schedule was full. She had spent the night with her brother when everyone else had to be somewhere else. My mother had stepped in for her little brother's family in ways that I can't begin to list here. Veronica had tons of support from friends and clergy and family, but I think besides her parents my mother and her Aunt Cheryl (Lynda's sister) have been the most present. Veronica practically screamed the results to my mother in her excitement. She is cancer free!
I knew the results were coming and I was praying and hoping for the best. I wasn't prepared for my own reaction though. I broke down sobbing in relief. I fell to my knees and prayed a prayer of thanksgiving like never before. Then I texted Veronica. We've watched so many people suffer, we've lost so many loved ones. We needed this victory. Even now, I am crying again.
My mother's heart has hurt all year - for Veronica, for Lynda, and for my own fears of what could befall my children. I've watched Lynda and Greg weather this storm and known that if it was me, I wouldn't be as strong. I wouldn't have as much poise and resolution. I would have trouble being so brave. It is a testament to their faith and how embedded that faith is in their children. Veronica just asked for prayer when she needed it, knowing that God would answer.
Veronica is my hero. To say she's gotten through this year without a grumble or complaint would be a lie. She's a teenager and her life was suspended this year. She's dealt with a lot of pain and discomfort and tests and procedures. She was certainly entitled to a few complaints. But for the most part, she's been extremely upbeat. She has had a faith in God that we can all learn from that she would be healed. Her attitude has been optimistic and confident at least 90% of the time, which for a 9 month period of greuling treatment is pretty impressive.
Veronica caught me on facebook chat one day and said simply that she wanted her old life back. I encouraged her and then got up to hug my kids. It made me just be grateful I have normal things to worry about like bedtime madness and whether or not my kids eat enough vegetables. Veronica's life has been anything but normal this year.
Veronica's attitude and faith are an inspiration to me. The fight isn't over. She has some residual swelling in her chest from the radiation. She faces a minor surgery to remove her chemo port. Now that she isn't faced with imminent hospital stays, she can focus on her physical therapy again and work on walking again (she does walk some, but uses her wheelchair for the most part). And the most greuling thing of all - she has a whole lot of 10th grade school work to catch up on so that when she goes back to school in the fall she can be a Junior with the rest of her friends. Yikes! But, I will never forget what I've learned from her - how to fight, how to believe. I've seen it in some of my adult friends, but this is the closest I've come to that kind of faith in a child. I hope I am giving my kids that kind of belief system. I hope they are getting it as wholly as Veronica has.
In the midst of your snow day today - take a minute to be grateful for your kids, for their health, for their spirits. Pray for their faith and their moral core, for the sanctity of their hearts and their innocence. And if you get an extra second - say another prayer of thanks for me, for my hero, Veronica.
Thanks, and God Bless!
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