Guest Post

I have to say that probably the biggest fear I have as a mother would be dying and not being able to be there for my kids.    Not to be there when they struggle and are scared or when they get married or have a baby.  
I just can't imagine being faced with that possibility...and yet...people are faced with it every day.  

I'd like to share a post with you, written by a woman who was diagnosed with Mesothelioma.  
Her blog is here if you want to read more.
Her story is hard to imagine and also inspirational.    

Finding the Good Out of the Bad

My daughter, Lily, was born on August 4, 2005. Everything had gone well and upon her arrival, she and my family were embraced by a supportive group of family and friends. They all wanted to greet my daughter with love and well-wishing. It seemed that life would continue on this bright and happy path. It wasn’t to be.

After I went back to work, I felt something wasn’t right. I was tired, out of breath and had no energy. Having a new baby could bring this on, but something inside me said it was more. After visiting my doctor and undergoing lots of tests, I found the answer, malignant pleural mesothelioma. The date was November 21, 2005. My baby was only three and a half months old and with no treatment, I had 15 months to live.

At some point in my childhood, I had been exposed to asbestos. This exposure led to the cancer of the lining of my lungs nearly 30 years later.

What would my family do without me? I couldn’t leave them, especially not my baby. I decided to pursue the most aggressive treatment for mesothelioma. On February 2, in Boston, my left lung was removed in an extrapleural pneumenectomy. My recovery involved 18 days in the hospital. After an additional two months, I began chemotherapy and radiation. I was a first-time mother and fighting for my life at the same time.

Cancer has a strange way of showing you whom you can count on. Throughout my treatment, my family was surrounded with people who supported us. People, I had never thought of counting on, were there for me. Others, who I thought steadfast, were gone. The prayers, support and love of the people who stayed buoyed us through our difficult time.

My parents took care of Lily while I was away. They had to raise her. Both my parents work and girls I used to take care of (who were now grown up) offered to watch my daughter during the work day. My parents also discovered how many people cared about them. The people I grew up with were helping my daughter grow up. My husband and I, in Boston, were lucky to find a wonderful group of people who were enduring as we were. They made it bearable.

I watched my daughter, in those early months, grow up without me. My mom would e-mail photos that my husband would print off. I watched my daughter learn to move around, eat food, through those pictures. It was hard not to cry when the nurses came in to see the photos of my baby girl. She was my reason for all this. I wanted to live for her.

My diagnosis was horrible, but out of that experience I have found out how precious life is. No matter how much bad life throws at us, I know there will always be plenty of good to balance it. I am so thankful for that.