Ready to be done

Two more chemo treatments left. After tomorrow: ONE.

[This countdown has been making me feel like I am in a twisted version of Sesame Street with the Count - how about you?]

Kate turned 6 last weekend. It was wonderful to celebrate with friends; we rented a covered space that had picnic benches and a huge grill, and did all sorts of fabulous activities. It ended up being a little more over the top than I probably should have done the day after chemo, but getting cancer with kids this little has made memory-making seem even more important.

"Don't boast about tomorrow, for you don't know what a day might bring." Proverbs 27:1

Today, we had the Big C come up three times with the girls. The first was at the grocery store; Kate fingered a pile of prostate cancer awareness bracelets at the check stand. When the clerk answered Kate's question about their purpose, Kate said, "My mom has cancer, too!" The check-out gal asked what kind and Kate said, "BREAST!"

I thought: Over-sharing at its finest. Oh how I love my child.

But then the clerk looked at me and said that she had had breast cancer, too - 17 years earlier. What a encouraging thing to hear! I have been still dealing with a nasty chest cough, and have been feeling: Exhausted. Frustrated. Even defeated. I think if we knew of all the people who walked amongst us who have done battle with this ugly stuff, we would be astounded.

Later today, Belle asked at dinner: "Why do you need chemo-ta-ter-apy?" John and I exchanged a puzzled look. We have been very honest with our girls about how I am taking super strong medicine to get better. It turned out that what Belle was asking, upon additional clarification, was: Why do I have breast cancer?

We told her that most people don't get cancer - just some people, and no one knows why it happens. I said, "It happens to an unlucky few - like your momma!" But I also said that we believe that God had allowed this to happen for a purpose. Kate wanted to know what purpose - and then said, "You have been through a really bad car accident when you were little and now you have gone through breast cancer - that is a LOT!"

I told her that we don't stop loving and trusting God when things got tough - that really, that's when we need Him the most. She is 6, and thankfully, she doesn't have a huge grasp of this concept yet. But someday she will.

Then tonight, as we were getting ready for bed, Kate asked, "What's a mastectomy?"

I told her it was a surgery that would remove my breasts, and that this was the surgery that I had been talking about the last few weeks (it is tentatively scheduled for Sept. 7). Her beautiful blue eyes widened and she wanted to know if it would hurt and whether my breasts would grow back (wouldn't THAT be a sweet set-up?). She said she felt scared about it, and wondered if I was scared, too.

"A bit," I said, and my voice got thick with tears that I even had to be having this kind of a conversation with my daughter. "But I'm also glad because it will help me from getting sick with cancer again."

Two more treatments left! Soon one. Oh, I am so excited to be done with this.