There are glimpses in life when you realize things are no longer going to be the same. It’s those vivid happenstances when it’s clairvoyant that one door is closing and another is opening.
Twin B was recently diagnosed with embryonal rhabdomyosarcoma in January 2016 at the age of 19 months. The nature of her cancer will require intensive chemotherapy treatment for the next 24 weeks. Every Wednesday she will be receiving treatments. Some more intense than others.
We are already 4 chemo treatments in. Looking at the positive.
We discovered a tumor the size of an egg above her right hip. Simply by undressing her for a bath. It was definitely not there the night before.
This was December 28th. That was the moment that you knew… that well, crap, take me back 5 minutes because I know moving forward is not going to be ideal.
When something like this happens you sort of go into a little bubble. You don’t clearly follow what the doctors are telling you and things come out as a little blur.
There are those clairvoyant moments that I spoke about earlier and it is those moments that give you that time to digest a little bit of the information you are receiving piece by piece. I feel like if that information was not naturally controlled by your brains intake you could just go crazy. Out of fear, sadness, anger, confusion…
It’s like a quick moment to digest and react. And then decide how to keep moving forward.
I’m not going to lie. It tooks a couple of weeks to even digest and say the word cancer. I would be sitting with hubby and be like, “So she has cancer?” And after long days of meeting oncology Doctors, Fellow’s, Nurses… as obvious as the situation was, Hubby would calmly just say, “She does.” Every once in awhile in the middle of cooking or something you could hear him say, “Shit, our kid has cancer.”
However, there is not enough time to dwell in those moments. From the first day of diagnosis, its a pedal to the metal type of situation.
Let’s drive. Fast. To the road clear of warning signs and signals.
So that’s where we are at.
Twin B has underwent surgery to completely remove the tumor. Nothing left behind. Two nights in the hospital and she was up and, no joke, running. Literally. Victory number one.
Let’s keep moving.
We’ve already turned the corner of 4 chemo treatments. She was admitted to the hospital for one, sent home with a hydration backpack for another. This will be the norm moving forward for these so called ‘Big’ chemo days that happen every third week.
She was admitted to the ER once and after all of these circumstances so far, Twin B, is proving to be a rockstar. She is running, dancing, smiling and lighting her path with a fire of courage that is monumentally admirable and inspiring.
This is only the beginning of our journey. Mila, (Twin B), makes it look pretty damn easy. She has given her entire family the courage to race after her without looking back.
This is the road we are on and we are driving with the windows down and our hands catching air.
Join us on the ride.
“If you aren’t in over your head, how do you know how tall you are?” – T.S. Eliot
