Above the Clouds
This past January, my friend Katie called from her home in Nashville. I want to take a girls’ trip with you, she said. Her teenage daughter, Olivia is friends with Esther and Nell, so she envisioned a mom/daughter trip up to New England. We would shop, we’d eat seafood, we’d go to art museums, we’d slumber party in hotel rooms, and most of all, we’d celebrate the end of this dumb cancer.
Yes…A resounding yes! This all sounded wonderful. There was only one caveat: I need you to plan this whole trip, Katie. You plan it and I’ll go on it. Surprise me.
I just couldn’t handle one more thing—even something fun like planning a celebratory getaway.
We firmed up the dates that radiation would be finished. She booked the flights for August, right before school started up again.
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If you’ve been following along with my story, then you know that the End of Cancer Celebration never happened. Radiation never happened. Instead, my cancer recurred within 5 weeks of my mastectomy surgery, and it’s still there now as I write this. In an unfortunate turn of events, the finish line was extended.
We regrouped. Could we still go in August? What would treatment look like over the summer? I’ll have another surgery, but when? Radiation will eventually be given but planning for timing proves practically impossible.
We decided to hold onto the tickets. We’d give it our best shot come August. In the meantime, Katie began making restaurant reservations for a party of five in Boston, Newport, and Providence. She booked museum tickets for five. She reserved all of our hotel rooms. And sure enough, come mid-July, everything was still looking good for August. The girls started face-timing regularly with their own plans for the trip. The stars were aligning in our favor.
Two days before our flight out, Katie called. I could barely understand her through the sobbing: I have Covid, she said. Olivia and I have to quarantine. We can’t travel.
She was vaccinated, so thankfully, it didn’t hit her hard and she’s fine now. I made an instantaneous decision: Katie, I need to commandeer this trip. I don’t know what the rest of my year looks like. I don’t know what the next year and two years will look like. I need to do this while I can.
She understood, of course. She spent the better part of a day transferring everything into my name. She sent me the itinerary—and the next day our little family of five boarded a plane to Boston.
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Sometimes things aren’t what we expect. We get bad news. We have uncomfortable circumstances. The story isn’t written the way we’d like it to be.
A few weeks ago, I got some test results back. This tested for the presence of genetic mutations within my cancer. The results can pinpoint the exact mutation in your cells that can then be very precisely treated. This is the future of cancer treatment: genome therapy. The results can inform doctors on drug trials that will perfectly target your cancer.
The results showed that my cancer does have a genetic mutation called PPM1D. Unfortunately, there are currently no drug trials available to target it. Furthermore, research shows that the very presence of this mutation is a prognostic indicator in long-term success: it lowers the 10-year survival rate to less than 50%, and in many cases, as low as 30%.
I was devastated. I cried off and on all day. These were not the results I wanted to hear.
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When they realized that our New England trip was going to have to change, Esther and Nell were angry. And then they cried. They fussed and they pouted. I understood: it wasn’t the teenage girl trip that they’d had in their mind for the last six months. Their best friend wasn’t coming. Instead, their 4-year-old sister was. We would have to cancel the 8 o’clock dinner reservations at the oyster house, and we added tickets to see the Sesame Street Sees the Stars show at the Boston Museum of Science.
Yes—it would be different than what they had originally planned.
But as it turns out, it was exactly what we needed. Ty and I had intended to plan a family vacation this summer, but it proved too hard. We didn’t know when I’d be in treatments. We didn’t have the energy to plan it all out. And very suddenly, this family vacation just plopped right into our lap.
I loved exploring new things with Eden and seeing them through a child’s eyes. I loved when Esther threw pillows across the room at Ty when he snored. I loved seeing the big girls dote on their little sister. And the most wonderful part was that it was all a surprise… I didn’t arrange it, so each day was held with open hands. We could remain flexible. In this case, letting someone else make the plans enabled us to enjoy the journey.
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We flew home from Boston on a dreary Thursday. The sky was overcast. A gloomy gray haze encased the airport as we returned the rental car and loaded onto the plane. The inside of the cabin was dim, even with all of the window coverings open.
We lifted off and ascended higher and higher. As we broke through the clouds, the entire cabin grew brighter. Very suddenly, sunbeams shone through the windows. I was reading a picture book to Eden and the pages glowed with light.
Well, would you look at that, I mused as I looked out over the clouds below.
As we approach the sun, light casts out the darkness.
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I recently came across this quote from JR Miller:
You cannot at present change your surroundings. Whatever kind of life you are to live, must be lived amid precisely the experiences in which you are now moving. Here you must win your victories or suffer your defeats. No restlessness or discontent can change your lot. Others may have other circumstances surrounding them, but here are yours. You had better make up your mind to accept what you cannot alter. You can live a beautiful life in the midst of your present circumstances.
I suppose that sometimes we just need to get our heads above the clouds. I will not spend my time looking at gloomy statistics. Instead, I’ll watch these girls of mine hold hands as they help Eden cross the street. I’ll go on date nights with Ty. I’ll snuggle on the couch with Margie Sparkles. And I’ll daily edge in closer to the Son, where all things beam brighter.
