“It will take a miracle for you to survive”. Those words are
seared into my brain. Those were the words spoken to us from the surgeon who
was about to cut away half of Jillian’s liver. From a Doctor. From someone you
are trusting and looking to for answers. Those words that were delivered in
such a harsh, insensitive manner.
I will never forget watching the color
drain from Jillian’s face as she sat on the examination table. I will always
remember looking at my kids from across the room seeing their tears fall
softly from their faces. My world stopped, it was if all the oxygen was sucked
from that room. The room was silent except for the occasional sniffle.
And I
then I remember feeling this fierce protectiveness bubble up inside me.. And
the anger. How dare you. It was those very words that motivated me to prove him
wrong, and to begin to navigate my way into the belly of melanoma. It is not a
pretty place.
I’ve learned much these last two years. I’ve seen firsthand
the resilience, determination, and joy, coming from a young 21 year old woman
who has been handed a cancer card. I’ve seen what love can do. I’ve seen how
extended family members and friends rally around us. I’ve been blessed to
have met so many new, wonderful people along this road as we meander along with
melanoma as our partner.
I’ve also seen a darker side, and have taken
some hard hits because of it. But my faith remains strong through it all, and I
KNOW without a doubt that we will see the other side of this with love,
compassion and a peace that surpasses all the darkness that threatens to suck
us in.
I will continue to fight for my daughter and for all of
those Faces that are currently battling this war against melanoma. And in doing
so, spreading awareness where ever I go. That is my quest, my focus. My
mission. Nothing will deter me, or my family from achieving this goal.
Fall Seven Times, Stand up Eight.
