The day after Christmas Tre had his port removed. After 3 years of being in and after 4 years of cancering, the port removal was a pretty damn big deal. It was definitely a belated Christmas gift. I wasn't back in the procedure room with him, so I asked him to take a picture of it for me. He did one better and brought it out in a specimen bag. PERFECT! He knows his mother so well! One of my friends suggested we make into a Christmas ornament, and I might just do that!
The removal of the port signifies a lot of things for a our family. It's been a pretty intense 4 years. It was at Christmas time 2013 that Tre found the lump in his tumor bed and radiation field from his first sarcoma. From there it's been a whirlwind of more tumors, surgeries and treatment and stress and loss, tempered with lots of love and laughter.
It's Not Rumor, This is Tre's Tumor
One of the things many people and families dealing with cancer have trouble with is planning for the future, especially when there are multiple diagnoses and recurrences, not to mention having a genetic cancer syndrome. It's hard to make plans and watch them fall apart when medical chaos takes priority, or when side effects of treatment force you to slow down. Or when the financial toll of cancer makes it impossible to take a trip or splurge on something. It's hard to see the world around you moving forward, yet you are still stuck in cancerland , only to be paralyzed by fear and what if. It's hard to put yourself out there, to get your hopes up, to think that 'YES! We are FINALLY moving on!' and not let the fear of being disappointed again prevent you from doing that. It takes a lot of work and, in my case, a lot of hours of counseling.
The end of this year feels so different. We feel excitement and fire and motivation. We have something positive to work on, something that means a lot to all of us. Something that we can do as a family besides cancering, that helps others and helps our family. I can't tell you how amazing it is. It's also terrifying. But in a good way instead of a 'Oh shit, you have a tumor kind of way'.
Tre's port removal represents moving forward...for all of us. Yep, there will be a scar. Yep there is no guarantee that he won't need it again or that I won't need one someday. But THIS day, RIGHT NOW, it's not needed. THIS DAY, RIGHT NOW, we are moving forward in hope and love and snark to create something awesome. Mike and I will spend our New Year's Eve setting goals and making plans. We want to give a lot, make a difference and make a lot of people laugh out loud in 2018.
If you are in the fear place, we get it. Work through it. Sometimes it takes a while to move past it. There isn't a time table that's the same for everyone and most of the people in our lives who haven't lived it don't get it. Be patient and gentle with yourself and others. But make it a goal to put one foot in front of the other. Baby steps will sill get you there.
We wish you all a healthy and happy 2018 filled with love, laughter and, of course, snark.
Snarkily yours,
Trish, Mike & Tre
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Congratulations on your fight with Cancer coming to an end! I was diagnosed Dec 2018 with stage IV breast cancer mets to liver and spine at 34! I love the comment about knowing his mama when he brought his port out lol that is a my mama move all day…she kept strands of hair when it first fell out plus every hospital sticker or band i have had 😆
This morning I opened up our business email as usual. One of our t-shirt fundraisers had just closed and the recipient emailed me her family t-shirt sizes and her address for us to send her check. She closed her email with this:
"Thank you for all of your support. Just to see the people supporting us is breathtaking”
Instant tears in my eyes. And the good kind.
Gina Arthur
August 24, 2022
I am interested in initiating a fundraiser for a friend in need. How would ogo about doing this?