10 Years Later

Today marks the day, ten years ago, that my sweet boyfriend Ryan delivered me to my last treatment for Hodgkin's Lymphoma.  It was the culmination of 6 months of, well, how do you describe cancer treatment?  Maybe a picture would be best.

See, isn't he sweet?  And as Lane asked me, "who is that?"  I hardly recognize her myself.  You see, as sick as I was, I never really pictured myself as sick.  Baldness was annoying for sure, but it was convenient.  No need for shampoo, simply continue to use a bar of soap.  No need for a hair brush or hair spray or a mirror, for that matter.  At times it was even funny.  I had one little girl who would not believe that I was a girl too.  She was so incensed that she demanded I prove I was a girl.  Ummm....how exactly do you do that?  Especially when I was already wearing a skirt?

That sweet boy - ummm, the one on the right - made so many weekend trips up to my parents' house (16 hours round trip) during that six months that my folks told me they were going to adopt him if I didn't keep him myself.  Ryan never knew how chipper I'd be when he arrived, yet he still kept coming.  Yep, definitely a keeper. 

There's much about that time span that I don't really remember.  Like the time I was laying down in the back seat of my sister's truck when we ran into a family friend.  Apparently, when Patty walked up to the truck, I perked up, made it sound as if treatment was a breeze, please don't worry about me, life is grand, and then collapsed back on the seat as soon as she walked away, my energy depleted.  It left Ryan absolutely astounded.  Apparently, only Ryan and my family were allowed to worry.

I do remember how my family worried (this picture was taken the weekend after my diagnosis).  My younger brother moved home from college for the summer and took over 'water pitcher patrol'.  Ever since I had been hospitalized to rehydrate me, I had my own pitcher in the refrigerator that had to be emptied every day and no, not into the sink like I would have chosen.  That summer, my sisters and their families made the trip home more times then I'm sure they care to remember and, to ease up on Ryan's commute, we met at Laurie's place a few weekends too. 

As for my parents?  My mom's goal was to maintain my weight.  I still remember how good those fresh peach and blueberry milkshakes tasted.  And for the only time in my life, I could drink multiple milkshakes in a day and still worry about losing weight.  There you have it.  There are some positives to cancer treatment!  As for my dad, I will never forget him sitting with me for one of my chemo treatments, holding my hand as the nurse - gloved, gowned and protected from head to toe - ran an IV of some unpronounceable chemo drug through my port and directly into my heart, doing our best to find humor in the situation.   

My family was (and is) incredibly supportive.  I have much to be thankful for. 

When Ryan first found out I had cancer (only 2 months into dating), he called his mom and asked her what he should do.  "Don't leave her now!  If it doesn't work, it doesn't work.  Just don't leave her during treatment!"  Having battled cancer herself, she spoke from experience.  Three short years later, she lost that battle.  I miss her. 

The week I finished treatment was also the week of Ryan's family reunion.  So after getting the 'all clear,' we headed out to meet the family - not just his immediate family, the entire extended family.  To say I was nervous was an understatement.  Mom had to drag me out of bed the morning we left, "Now Bean, this is IMPORTANT!"  Which is why I was still in bed.  I mean, who wants to meet their boyfriend's family, the family I knew would likely become my future in-laws, with a military approved hairdo?  I worried for no reason.  I have wonderful in-laws.

Now here we are, 10 years, 1 sweet husband, and 3 healthy kiddos later.  Amazing.  Did I mention I have a lot to be thankful for?  I do.  I am.  Thankful, that is.