Happy Cancerversary

It would be one year since her diagnosis of cancer and frankly, it had been a pretty rotten year. After the first two months of diagnosis, an eight-hour surgery, complications resulting in a horrendous week, another “repair the complication” surgery, and a radioactive iodine treatment, the year continued with more heartache. On July 3 while home alone in our apartment, she was told that her cancer was metastatic—there were spots in her lungs—and she was referred to Memorial Sloan Kettering Hospital where some of the best thyroid cancer specialists do research and treatment. The monthly blood work (which, of course, could only be done during her work hours) still could not regulate her medication well. Even living at home where her meals were taken care of, she was exhausted all the time, and the lack of a thyroid played havoc with her emotions. On top of it all, the long scar from the middle of her throat across her neck and up towards her ear developed keloids. What began as a fine line turned into a nasty scar requiring regular steroid injections and laser treatments.

Of course, the year brought positives as well. Two days after finding her cancer had metastasized; Melanie began training to become a Montessori teacher. Studying all summer while getting CAT scans, blood work, and a trip to Sloan Kettering, she managed to land a job as a teaching assistant in a Duxbury, Ma. school. The only down side was that Duxbury is a forty-five minute commute on a good day. (If you drive the Southeast Expressway in Boston, you know there are not many good days.) She had to leave at 6:30 a.m. and often was not home before 5:30—a long day even if you have a great metabolism. Melanie did not.

As the year wore on she was increasingly exhausted, discouraged with being isolation from peers, and trying to hard not to see her life shrinking.  It was so hard to watch her struggle with things that in the past had been routine. In August, I became the interim priest at a church in Framingham with a clergy assistant. But after only a few months it became clear that the finances of the church could not continue to support two priests; the congregation moved to a single clergy person—me.  Since they had come to expect heavy clergy involvement in all aspects of their life, it was a difficult adjustment for all concerned. Dealing with disillusionment at home and work took its toll on me. Worried about Melanie and the congregation, it became increasingly hard to keep my equilibrium—i.e., not show anyone what I was a feeling. Melanie and the congregation needed me strong—the last thing I was feeling.

There were many Sunday nights after a workday for me when Melanie was in tears, not sure she could make it through another week. Chris and I both tried to assure Melanie that if it was too much, she could quit her job. Hmmm...Did I just use the words “quit” and “Melanie” in the same sentence? Foolish me! Melanie does not quit. Never has. As a five year old she would keep up with the adults for full day of skiing; would get back up on a balance beam countless times until she could do a back walkover, and run her heart out on a soccer field. “Quit” was not part of her vocabulary.

So when that first April 27 came around, her cancer diagnosis was simply not something I felt was warranted a celebration. It was not until June that her medications were adjusted (again) and she was able to lead twelve kids backpacking on the Olympic Peninsula and in the Cascades in Washington State--a huge step in making her feel normal again.

It took some years, but gradually I have come to celebrate Melanie’s Cancerversary. Her A.C. (after cancer) life has been full and rich. (Even as I know that is not so for many who live with cancer) Here is a little of what A.C. can look like.  Two years teaching; one year as AmeriCorps volunteer, doing environmental work; becoming certified as a Wilderness First Responder; leading countless Outward Bound trips and pilgrimages in Maine and WA; sailing with a crew of eight on 32 foot open scow boats from the Florida Keys to Rhode Island; becoming an aunt—twice; falling in love; earning a Masters degree in Education; helping get a non-profit, True North Treks, up and running; leading other young adult cancer survivors into the wilderness; having two more tumors removed; hiking; camping; climbing; snowboarding, writing letters that make her parents cry; starting a new life in Seattle; soon getting married.

While Melanie's doctor at Sloan Kettering has told her that it is her job is to live her life, it is his job is to tell her when she needs to take a break. Both do their jobs well. So Melanie, here’s to you!! This mother could never be more proud!! Melanie, happy seventh Cancerversary to You!! 

Always, 

Mom