I was approached by someone who wanted to share her story on my blog in an attempt to reach a larger audience. Here is her story:
While I had always heard the phrase “it takes a village to raise a child,” I never knew
how true this was until I had my own daughter. My darling Lily came into this world
on August 4, 2005, and we were surrounded by our nearest and dearest. It was one
of the happiest times of my life, and it was followed by the most difficult!
After I returned to work, I realized that I was constantly breathless and tired. I had no
energy and I was tired all the time. Though I might have thought I was dealing with
the effects of having a newborn around, I knew that there was something else going
on.
It wasn’t until November 21, 2005, less than 4 months after Lily’s birth that we
figured out what was going on. I had malignant pleural
mesothelioma, a cancer that
affected the lungs and which had resulted from my accidental
exposure to asbestos
as a child. These symptoms were dire, and it was apparent to the doctor that I would
only live for another 15 months without treatment.
I knew without doubt that I needed to pursue the most aggressive treatment
possible. I couldn’t stand to give up my life with my daughter and my husband, and
so I found myself and my husband in Boston just a few short months later. On
February 2nd, I underwent a severe surgery called extrapleural pneumenectomy,
where one of the world’s foremost mesothelioma doctors removed one of my lungs.
After that, I had 18 days of rest in the hospital, and 2 months after that, I could start
on chemotherapy and radiation.
During this entire time, Lily was raised by her grandparents. My parents stepped
right up to the challenge of moving from doting grandparents to fulltime caretakers,
and it wasn’t easy for them. Both of my parents worked fulltime, and when they
could not be with Lily, they turned to their church group. Their church kept them
shored up and supported when I couldn’t be there, and when reports of who came to
help reached me, I was shocked and touched. Girls who I had once looked after
volunteered to help out and my parents assured me that there were plenty of people
who rallied around them. It was a surprising outpouring of love from a community
that I barely knew.
Even in Boston, we were not bereft of support. Whenever I got pictures of my
daughter sent via email from my mother and printed out by my husband, the nurses
made it a point to come ooh and ahh over my gorgeous little girl. Even if I had to
sometimes fight back tears over how much I missed her, I knew that she was being
taken care of.
Life is funny in many ways, and though the cancer experience was one of the
darkest of my life, it taught me many things. There was a village surrounding my
lovely Lily, and I knew that they would take care of her.
