On my tenth birthday my dad took me bowling so we could have some one on one time. My mom was making homemade pizza and cake. I had been upset because we couldn’t afford a party that year but I had gotten over it and was happy to hang out with my family that day. When we got home I went in the dining room for dinner and all my friends came leaping out from behind doors, in closets, under the table, shouting “SURPRISE!” It was wonderful. It was the best kind of surprise.
On April 12th of this year I took my 11 year old daughter to a routine follow up appointment with her neurosurgeon. She has hydrocephalus diagnosed at age 2, and gets yearly MRIs to follow up from her third ventriculostomy. My daughter was doing great. We were expecting this to be nothing but a quick visit. We had the 2 year old with us. We had dinner plans with friends. Instead, that day, we got the worst kind of surprise. The MRI had found a small growth in her brainstem. It had been there the year before and was thought to be a benign finding, almost like a birth defect, that had caused her hydrocephalus in the first place. The growth had grown. In one year it had nearly doubled in size. It wasn’t a benign finding, it was a brain tumor. My daughter had a brain tumor. My vibrant, beautiful, smart, happy, 11 year old Sarah had a brain tumor.
We are approaching the 6 month mark and we have at least a year to go in our treatment but I have been thinking back on the last 6 months quite a bit lately. I have been surprised by so many things in the last 6 months, mainly by the beauty that I have found in people. It started that day. The medical student who found a toy push car and took Hannah for rides while the neurosurgeon and I talked to Sarah. The nurse practitioner who then took Sarah to “find Hannah” while I talked to the neurosurgeon. The busy neurosurgeon at the end of her long clinic day who sat there with me while I sobbed, while I begged her to tell me if my baby was going to die.
I have been surprised by kindness. Everyone we encounter at the hospital is so kind to us. The nurses who seem happy to see us each week, who ask Sarah about all her activities, who act like accessing her port is the funnest thing they have done all day. The nurse who talked to me about her NICU days when I was exhausted and post call from resuscitating a micropreemie the night before, who then covered me up with a blanket and reclined my chair when I fell asleep. The doctor and NP who have laughed and talked and cried with us, who remember from week what Sarah said her next week’s plans were and then ask about them. The lady in the bagel shop who always remembers that we drink chai tea lattes, who gets them started when she sees us coming. Finally, the art teacher, who we absolutely love, who makes chemo Wednesdays fun, who remembered my birthday, my Ruthie’s birthday AND Sarah’s birthday, who brought us some of the cakepops she made for her own birthday because I had told her how to make them and she was so proud.
I have been surprised by joy. By the joy that radiates off my daughter as she paints a new masterpiece while her chemo runs. By the joy on her face when she sees her little chemo buddy Ridge, a precious little 3 year old who just loves his Sarah. By the joy I feel every time she and I sneak away for a little mother daughter time after chemo, exploring new restaurants and shops. By the joy we feel as a family when we get home and our magic chemo meal has been delivered so we can just sit down, have dinner, and enjoy each other’s company. As depressed and angry as I have been the last six months, sometimes the joy is overwhelming.
I have been surprised by friendship. By the people who went from being nice folks we chatted with at church to being people we can count on in a pinch, people who sometimes just drop by with pizza or lasagna. By the woman who went from being a coworker to being the friend who took it on herself to sign people up to bring us food every single week on chemo day. By the old friend who went from contacting me whenever we were going to be in the same town or whenever one of us had a problem to texting or calling every Wednesday and making sure we planned some time together ASAP. By the friend who went from “hey you are fun to hang out with and our kids are all besties” to “you are my lifeline and I don’t think I could have survived the last 6 months without you.” So many people say that tough times show you who your real friends are, implying that most people walk away from you when times get tough. For me, these tough times have shown me that I am surrounded by more wonderful, beautiful, real friends than I ever imagined.
