January 9th, 2013
Before I begin, I have to note that I'm writing this from the balcony of my room on our cruise ship. The sun has set, and we are sailing away from the island of Jamaica. The wind was quite strong today, so there are peaceful whitecaps crashing along side the boat. I'm not sure if this is real life. Not once has this trip felt "normal" (in a good way). I've caught myself thinking multiple times, "What day is it? What would I be doing at home right now? Am I really snorkeling in crystal clear water with stingrays??!"
But today more than anything, I can't seem to wrap my mind around the fact that it has been an entire year since I was told, "Keri. You have cancer."
That phone call Monday January 9th, 2012 from my nurse, feels like yesterday. I was supposed to be starting my final semester of college, but that Sunday before, I woke up still under the weather from surgery. I also had a weird feeling. Something was holding me back from moving. Immediately after my nurse called, I knew then why I stayed home. God knew being surrounded by family was what I would need the following day.
I remember every detail. Where I was standing. What I was doing minutes before my phone rang. How my mom was headed out the door to go back to work, before I quickly rushed over and motioned with my hands to wait. Don't leave. And then everything was a process. I explained the details to my mom and Kyle. Called my dad while he was at work. Made special phone calls to my grandparents to make sure they were home; There was something I wanted them to hear in person. And finally my closest friends and extended family were notified. But after all of that was done, I can't remember what I did. I never cried. Or felt angry. I'm sure I researched every medical journal possible dealing with thyroid cancer. But other than that, the rest is a blur...
But here I am! One year later. Somewhere out in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico. Surrounded by my ever-loving family and paradise. I didn't bring up today's date at all today. We had talked about it a couple times the last few days, but not today. I think it was one of those things we all had in the back of our minds throughout the day, but were assuming we all knew and kept it taboo. Instead we spent the day zip lining atop the lush mountains and climbing the Dunn's River waterfall in Jamaica. Oh. And sipping on the local rum!
I think it's natural for people to reflect on how much has gone by in a year of significance; Be it cancer, the first year of marriage, loss of a loved one, etc. However, I don't feel the need to do that. Yes, I've definitely looked back on what all happened and how majority of my "plans" changed without notice. But. None of that is necessarily going to put a smile on my face. Instead today, I've found myself looking forward to what the future holds. I have no doubt that the plans God has in store far exceed any that I could ever dream! And as strange as it may sound, I have cancer to thank for that. I remember my parents teaching this lesson in CLC class when I was in middle school: A man is on a tightrope. Believing is the mindset knowing that he can walk across the rope. But having faith is closing his eyes and successfully making it to the other side. In my case, I've always believed. But now I have true faith.
The other thing that weighed heavily on my mind today was how blessed I've been in regards to the support I have in my life. You know your family really loves you when they put up with crazy, roller-coaster hormonal changes, and yet never hold it against you. Or when friends let you be "lame" and go to bed at 9pm versus a night out. And the moments that you just need to vent, and with a simple touch on an iPhone, the perfect person is on the other end all ears. Again, without judgement. (Usually a few laughs though. Sometimes my rambling gets a little crazy!)
As for where things stand medically; I will spend a week at the med center for blood work, injections, scans, and appointments at the end of this month. This is routine protocol for one year post-diagnosis. They will monitor the nodules in my lungs and make sure the cancer is still suppressed and non-detectable. If all is clear, then I don't think I have to go back for 6 months! What a relief that would be. So keep your fingers crossed and prayers coming.
1 year. 365 days. 52 weeks. 525,600 minutes. (Thanks to RENT the Musical, for that number). No matter how you put it, the past won't change. It can make you bitter. Or it can make you better. This past year has been one that I would never wish upon anyone, and definitely don't want to re-do, but I can say with confidence it has made me better. My dad often asks, "Why you?" And I still can't answer that. Obviously God knew I could handle it and would use His grace, but also, I truly believe it has been a blessing in disguise. Like I've said before, there are many, many other hardships that are more devastating. So I say, why not me?
Bon Voyáge!
Kaptain Keri
