I know the world doesn't go 'round perfectly, but c'mon.
Awhile back, this blog was titled something akin to the usual "fighting cancer" slogan we have all come to know well. I changed it to "Thyroid cancer on the run" because I just felt like I wasn't putting up much of a fight. That's not to say that I wouldn't have put up a fight if I had to, but as I looked around to others fighting cancer I really didn't fit in.
This isn't a self-pity rant, like boo-hoo, did she really just say she didn't fit in with the cancer fighting community? It's more of a how the heck could I be called a "fighter" when I had cancer for at least 3 years before I was even given full rights to the name?
So again I say I don't get it. Here's why...
My 11-year-old niece was diagnosed with Leukemia on May 3 of this year. I still can't believe I am writing this, but she earned her angel wings on May 30. Her entire cancer battle happened in less than a month. I won't tell her story because it's not mine to tell, but I will say she was up against a monster. Talk about a fighter. She was the ultimate.
I was so naïve. My heart broke for her, but never once did I think we would lose her. Never. How could I when my cancer had sat around for 8 years and never bothered to even stretch a muscle? My doc recently found cancerous nodules in my neck again and actually said they were probably missed in my last surgery. Gee, doc, that was 4 years ago. What the heck has the cancer been doing all this time?
He did wonder if it had spread to my lungs, so he ordered a CT scan to see. The bittersweet news came this week when the scan showed no sign of spread, but for those few little nodules in my neck. A little surgery later and it should be taken care of. No rush either. I may even be able to schedule it for the fall of 2022 and be just fine.
I mean no disrespect to those fighting thyroid cancer. I know it can be deadly and is nothing to sneeze at, but right now I just can't see that it really makes much of a difference for me. My perspective has completely changed. A little girl changed all that for me. I came out swinging with a toothpick, while she managed an arsenal of weaponry at the young age of 11.
I have been stuck with needles and an IV in recent weeks for my latest round of cancer testing and I thought of her every time. The test I had was on the chemo ward and the lady at registration asked if I'd had chemo that day. Chemo. Such a big word, but now I see it much differently. I saw her when I was asked that question. I saw her when they put a line in my arm. I saw her when I realized how much of a hero she is to me. She showed me how to come in swinging.
And while I don't feel right calling myself a fighter, I think I still might just win this war for her. It's the least I can do. Rest easy, sweet girl. I will follow your lead.
