A Family Grows

 Trey has three best friends: Robert, Jack, and Wyatt. They’re like “The Sandlot” movie, and it cracks me up seeing them together, but this story isn’t about their friend group; it’s about Jack.

In August, Jack’s mom called, asking if he could live with us for a while. We agreed because Jack is like family—but I did get calls from people concerned that I’m doing too much while fighting cancer. “It’ll be okay,” I said. “He’s a good kid.”

It’s been almost 4 months since he moved in, and I’ve seen changes in all of us. While I make breakfast for the kids, we’ve had some deep conversations. Jack and Trey laugh about how they met in second grade and then reminisce over what a small world it is. (For example: My oldest daughter, Ruby, is a tattoo artist who learned vital skills from her mentor. And guess who trained her mentor decades before? Jack’s grandfather! Now, his legacy is living on in her AND his grandson lives with us.)

On Tuesday, we went out for Ruby’s birthday. At one point, Jack whispered to me and Trey, “I didn’t know this was for her birthday. I didn’t get her a gift.”

We told him not to worry, but he still seemed concerned. Dinner went past quickly, and nothing exciting happened; it was just another birthday.

“Here’s the check,” the waiter said. “You guys sure you want to leave? Why not sing a song?” He pointed to a small stage that boasted a microphone. 

“Thursday only!” I read the stage’s sign. “Karaoke!” No wonder the waiter joked about it. It wasn’t Thursday.

Jack paled, then pushed his chair back and stood. “I’ll do it,” he said boldly, but despite that resolve, his hands visibly shook. “I’ll sing a song. For Ruby. For her 23rd birthday.”

So he went up onstage and started looking at all the  customers throughout the restaurant. Trey and I glanced at each other, both worried. 

Jack’s voice wafted out soft at first, so our table began cheering for him. He gaped as if somehow realizing—in that exact moment—how much he means to us… That’s when his voice grew in power. Cooks stopped cooking momentarily to see who was singing—and even rapping! A few waiters set down trays and stared. Some woman in a festive red dress came and DANCED in front of Jack. Afterward, Trey and Jack even sang together, and Ruby said it was one of the best birthdays she’s ever had.

After we got home, I sat on the couch alone, thinking what a blessing Jack is. He brings a sort of magic to our family—even on Ruby’s birthday, he breathed life into the moment and made it unforgettable. “I feel like,” I suddenly heard Jack talking to Trey in the other room, “I feel like part of your family. I feel… like you guys actually care about me.”

“You’re my brother now. And, Jack… I always wanted a brother,” Trey said.

I thought about my baby who died. My little baby boy who would’ve been older than Trey. I wish Trey could’ve grown up with him. “Zeke Jackson,” I whispered his first and middle name. Zeke would’ve been an amazing big brother, just how Jack is. And as a thought came to me, I gasped: Zeke Jackson. One of his grandma’s called him “Jack”! 

Chills ran the length of my body and tears came to my eyes. I somehow felt like Zeke was watching, smiling from Heaven about how beautiful our lives can be. Even though he couldn’t grow up, I still think he’s with us somehow in spirit, cheering every one of us on. It seems like despite distance and sadness, grief and death, nothing can diminish a mother’s love. I went into the kitchen and hugged both the boys. “What was that for?” Trey asked.

I looked at them. “I’m just grateful for both of you.” And when I left the room, my heart felt full to the brim.

Struggling with Negative Body Image

Before (left) 6 weeks after the surgery (right)

 You know how I recently had a surgery? There’s some good news and some superficial news: 

(1) The pain pump device IS helping sooo much with the pain (yay!), but 

(2) I am working through some other issues, simply acknowledging that it IS an adjustment having this new contraption in my body and I would be lying to myself if I denied that. I AM struggling a bit with negative body image. 

I probably sound so ungrateful because I wasn’t even supposed to live this long—and this is such a superficial thing. But today, I woke up feeling really worried, hoping Mike will always love me and that we’ll make it through all of this crap with cancer and changes… and heartache. 

Fear, well, it can be a crippling thing. 

It’s just that without Mike, I don’t know how I’d get through this. And by “get through this,” I mean: Doctors say cancer is most likely what I’ll die from, so I’m not fighting to necessarily beat this; I’m just fighting for more time, even a sliver of extra moments with my family. 

Anyway, I do *not* want pity; that’s one of the worst things in the world. It’s embarrassing and maddening…. That being said, MOST people have responded with the best thing possible: kindness. (And I don’t mean to sound unappreciative.) 

But when it gets quiet, and I’m left with my own thoughts, it can be hard grieving over what used to be and how I could do so many things. 

I’m 41… Seeing other people my age, people who don’t have cancer, I’m amazed by all the things they can do: skiing, dancing, running... I MISS those things so much. Now, a good portion of my time is spent resting, and I feel bad for Mike. He’s like a golden Lab, running circles around me; and I just have to… watch. People say he’ll always love me and he’ll always stay. I think that’s true, but I still feel bad for him.

Okay. Enough whining 😅 I know I’ll pull myself out of this and be doing better in a few hours—after a STRONG cup of coffee lol—but I was wondering… How do YOU deal with setbacks?

#painpump #ecstilson #changeishard #stage4cancer #fyp #melanoma #foryoupage #advice #loss #grief #cancerjourney #stage4melanoma #change #counseling

A Friend Who Changed Her Mindset

My friend got married really young. I knew things were difficult but didn’t realize how bad until the divorce. After that, I watched as that sweet woman struggled with serious health issues until she needed a hysterectomy…

We’ve spoken on and off for years. I knew she regretted the divorce but didn’t realize it stemmed from her desire for children. “I should’ve had them when I could,” she finally admitted 20 years later. Over the conversation, I found out she’d been looking at her ex-husband’s social media accounts. 

"You've gotta stop," I practically begged, knowing this was torturous for her.

“He has kids and looks happy,” she nearly sobbed, continuing on. "Maybe we were perfect for each other, and I was too young to know.” She paused. "And now... maybe the grass IS greener on the other side?"

"I can't remember who said it, but the grass is greener by the septic tank."

She scoffed, relaying that the remark wasn't particularly funny at the moment. After a few minutes, she finally spoke again. “I missed the boat. I should’ve had children with him when I had the chance. I never should’ve gotten divorced. Now I’m alone… in my forties. I’m lost and suffering.” 

In the past, I’ve actually looked up the root of suffering. At various points in my life, I’ve struggled and now with cancer, it can be tough doubting things and—at times—wondering if it’s worth it to continue treatments. But the thing I’ve truly realized about suffering is that King Solomon’s words are true: This too shall pass.”

So I spoke with my friend about the etymology of the word “suffer.” It actually means “to endure.” When I told her all of this, she thought of something and must've had some type of epiphany. 

“Well,” she said firmly, “I don’t want to just endure.”

She booked an appointment with a counselor after that. And over a period of time, I felt grateful to realize that she’d begun to enjoy life, see good things around her, and embrace the present. I didn’t think about it prior to all of this, but before seeing the counselor, she’d usually say “no” a lot. The counselor must’ve encouraged her to start saying “yes.” One day she even called to tell me she’d gone out dancing! And now, she’s made so many new friends, and I love seeing her embracing the present, even if it’s not the life she expected. That takes true strength and courage. Through it all, she’s finally let go of the past. 

I really wanted her to know that she’s inspired me; no matter what might be going on, there’s always something to make life worth it. For me, that might be playing board games with my family or simply trying to brighten their days—seeing their happiness erases any amount of worry, fear, or sadness I might’ve felt prior. I'm so grateful for this "reset." My friend brought me back to my “why.” My reason for moving forward is my family. 

So today, if you’re having a hard time and feel like you’re just enduring, I hope you’ll find something good around you—something that helps you enjoy! If this is our one life to live, why not find the good around us, enjoy the moment, and appreciate what we have?