I’ve been fighting stage 4 cancer for over five years now. In the beginning, I felt resolved and mentally willing to persevere. Recently, however, things have shifted. Although I’ve received good news—my oncologist even said I actually have a chance of beating this—there are still days when I get down.
It’s hard accepting that my capabilities have changed. I will never walk the same way again, nor will I have the stamina I had before cancer. Adrenal insufficiency caused by treatments has sapped my energy, and the radiation damage causes pain that not even my pain pump can fully dull. But one of the worst things is seeing the pity in people’s eyes when they talk with me in person.
Despite this, I try to act brave for my children. But when it’s quiet and no one is around, I wonder: Why is this happening? Why am I sick? Why am I still here when so many incredible friends have died from this?
Yesterday morning, I couldn’t help sinking into sadness. Indy and I have been working extremely hard lately, and at first, I chalked my mood up to pure fatigue—I simply can’t do what I used to. But as we worked—me on the computer and her crocheting beside me—I battled thoughts about my self-worth and destiny. I hate that I can no longer work to bring in money for my family. I hate that so much has changed. I felt like maybe I deserved this bad karma for some reason, but I knew my husband and kids didn’t deserve this.
Then, as if reading my thoughts, Indy turned to me.
“When I brought you to cancer treatments on Friday, the nurse really got me thinking,” she said. “I started realizing all the things I’ve learned from your journey. It’s taught me to always give people the benefit of the doubt, to be kind to everyone, and to never give up.”
I looked at her and thought about how hard she has worked to create inventory for her new crochet business. She’s only 15, but she’s been working on this for months, and yesterday was the culmination of everything. We took final pictures of the scarves, drafted descriptions, and listed them on her blog ( www.myfireflyfashion.com ) and eBay.
When we finally shared the launch on social media, Indy sighed with relief. “Mama, I just want you to know how much I appreciate you. You’ve done so much to help me recently—even after treatments.” Tears filled her eyes. “I just want you to know how grateful I am for you and your example, especially while you’ve been fighting cancer.”
I cried and hugged her. Suddenly, the worries faded. I no longer felt sorry for myself or my family. Instead, I felt overwhelming gratitude for the lessons, for the people my kids have become, and—yes—even for the hardship, because every second means more time with my family.
So, this Thanksgiving, I woke up overwhelmed with gratitude for my life and this journey. I went to Indy’s website and saw that she already has bids on two items!, and many people have even donated to help with her goal of saving for a foreign exchange program ( https://gofund.me/e367bde89 ). I can hardly wait to see her face when she wakes up and realizes all of this because it seems like sone sort of miracle!
So, despite the pain, the hardship, and how difficult life can be, I’m so grateful to still be alive, witnessing these milestones and seeing the joy on my kids’ faces when they accomplish something meaningful. I’m simply grateful for even a second with my family, knowing that life is precious and not even a moment should be taken for granted….
Feeling strong enough to fight another day AND eat some turkey,
Elisa
P.S. Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours. I’m wishing you so much health and happiness. Best to you ALWAYS! ♥️
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