A Village of Love: Overcoming Cancer and Embracing Life
I’m sure you have heard the expression that it takes a village to raise a child. It’s a saying I truly came to trust during my struggle to overcome cancer after the birth of my first child. My family and I were surrounded by a village of loving relationships.
My daughter Lily was born August 4, 2005, after a mostly uneventful pregnancy. Our village of love at once surrounded us. My parents, my husband’s family, and many, many friends came by to meet our Lily and wish us well. Things were going great. Nothing could prepare us for the storm that was about to come.
Within a month of returning to work full time, things began to go downhill for me. I started feeling tired, breathless, with no energy. These symptoms could all be attributed to being a new mom; still I felt that something was really wrong. On November 21, 2005, just 3 1/2 short months after Lily came into our lives, I was diagnosed with malignant pleural mesothelioma, a cancer in the lining of the lung, caused primarily by asbestos exposure. I had unknowingly been exposed to asbestos as a child. Some 30 years later, I was diagnosed with mesothelioma. I was told I had 15 months to live if I did nothing. I looked at my husband and daughter and knew I must do something to save my life.
The treatment option that I chose was the most drastic available, a surgery called extrapleural pneumenectomy that required the removal of my left lung. My husband and I flew to Boston and I had the surgery performed on February 2, 2005. I then spent 18 days recovering in the hospital, with another 2 months recovery before starting chemotherapy and then radiation.
Meanwhile, Lily lived with my parents in South Dakota. They had their own village of loving friends that came out to help them. Young married women that I used to babysit for when I was a teen, volunteered to babysit for Lily while my parents worked full time. Churchgoers, who I grew up with in my hometown, surrounded my parents with love and support. My baby girl learned to eat her first foods and roll and scoot around.
Back in Boston, we made new friends and surrounded ourselves with amazing people going through the same cancer ordeal. We managed each day through the support and love of people surrounding us. I watched my daughter's progress through grainy black and white copies of pictures my mom emailed and my husband printed off on a community printer for me. My nurses would come and check on the new pictures and ooh and aah over her, just like I did, while trying not to cry. She was the reason I was there. She was the reason I was fighting for my life. She was in the best hands possible.
Now, years later, I embrace what life throws at me. I really believe this quote: “Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death.” As dire as my diagnosis of cancer was, part of the good that came from it was a village of love that helped me to become the grateful person I am today.
I’m sure you have heard the expression that it takes a village to raise a child. It’s a saying I truly came to trust during my struggle to overcome cancer after the birth of my first child. My family and I were surrounded by a village of loving relationships.
My daughter Lily was born August 4, 2005, after a mostly uneventful pregnancy. Our village of love at once surrounded us. My parents, my husband’s family, and many, many friends came by to meet our Lily and wish us well. Things were going great. Nothing could prepare us for the storm that was about to come.
Within a month of returning to work full time, things began to go downhill for me. I started feeling tired, breathless, with no energy. These symptoms could all be attributed to being a new mom; still I felt that something was really wrong. On November 21, 2005, just 3 1/2 short months after Lily came into our lives, I was diagnosed with malignant pleural mesothelioma, a cancer in the lining of the lung, caused primarily by asbestos exposure. I had unknowingly been exposed to asbestos as a child. Some 30 years later, I was diagnosed with mesothelioma. I was told I had 15 months to live if I did nothing. I looked at my husband and daughter and knew I must do something to save my life.
The treatment option that I chose was the most drastic available, a surgery called extrapleural pneumenectomy that required the removal of my left lung. My husband and I flew to Boston and I had the surgery performed on February 2, 2005. I then spent 18 days recovering in the hospital, with another 2 months recovery before starting chemotherapy and then radiation.
Meanwhile, Lily lived with my parents in South Dakota. They had their own village of loving friends that came out to help them. Young married women that I used to babysit for when I was a teen, volunteered to babysit for Lily while my parents worked full time. Churchgoers, who I grew up with in my hometown, surrounded my parents with love and support. My baby girl learned to eat her first foods and roll and scoot around.
Back in Boston, we made new friends and surrounded ourselves with amazing people going through the same cancer ordeal. We managed each day through the support and love of people surrounding us. I watched my daughter's progress through grainy black and white copies of pictures my mom emailed and my husband printed off on a community printer for me. My nurses would come and check on the new pictures and ooh and aah over her, just like I did, while trying not to cry. She was the reason I was there. She was the reason I was fighting for my life. She was in the best hands possible.
Now, years later, I embrace what life throws at me. I really believe this quote: “Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death.” As dire as my diagnosis of cancer was, part of the good that came from it was a village of love that helped me to become the grateful person I am today.
