What a difference a year makes.

Hi folks, it’s been a while.

Today marked a year since Scott was diagnosed with AML. A year since our little world was rocked, as well as the lives of family and friends.

I’ll start this post by celebrating how well Scott is doing, how amazing and healthy he is. How he is exceeding expectations and how proud his medical team is of his progress thus far. He’s an example of how a stem cell transplant can save a life.

Now, I will say I’m torn between feeling like it’s been much longer than a mere year… so much has happened in 365 days, as you’re all very aware. But then on the other hand we’re still pretty raw, making it feel more recent.

It’s so easy to let myself be taken back to the emergency room of a nearly evacuated OTMH, and recall the scene of the doctor telling Scott he had blood cancer, and watching Scott react in disbelief. “Cancer? As in, chemo? I have three kids. I’m only 32. Are you sure? You know, maybe I don’t feel that sick. I have three babies – you have to tell me I’ll be ok. Please tell me this is curable. I have three kids…….” and I can feel my stomach do flips and a fake quivering smile on my face as I was trying to pretend to Scott that I wasn’t as scared as I was. Watching him plead his case with the doctor, like you would plead with a police officer after being pulled over for speeding. As if, by telling him all the reasons he shouldn’t or couldn’t have cancer, the doctor may retract the diagnosis and let him leave with a stern warning to shape up. I pretended confidence that all would be ok, in an attempt to reassure him. Little did I know that he would be the one with the confidence and strength down the road.

The following months are hard to recall. Hard in the sense that I would rather not recall the tough memories.

Instead we’re choosing to remember the good ones:  the appointment when we were told Jeff was a match and then when he was in remission, the waiting list for hospital visits from friends, the freezer packed with meals for our family, the surprises shipped to Scotts bedside, the scene of my mom working on my kids heritage day project as I left for a night at the hospital, the “schedule” of visits from family to ensure Scott was never lonely and I had help at home. I was reminded all the time that we weren’t alone, and told by so many “let us help, we just want to help”. What a gift! Support, in any form, is such a gift. One we fully intend to pay forward.

So.much.love.

I spent the better part of this year fearing that Dec 1 2015 would happen again, terrified that cancer would come back, or worse. There was so much looking back for me, so much fear. I marked this day as the worst day in our lives. And yes, it was the beginning of a really hard year full of unexpected challenges, but in all that fear and anxiety.. something wonderful happened.

We were lifted up, and supported, and loved more than we ever knew. Though the circumstances were less than ideal, we had the opportunity to get closer to people in our lives, and learn valuable and powerful lessons along the way.

We learned to tell people more often how we feel about them, and that there is strength in being vulnerable. It’s ok to not have everything together, and it’s ok to ask for help. We discovered everyone has challenges and that it’s good to show your cracks, because they have cracks too. And we all need one another to help fill the cracks. Even if it means just having someone hug you while you cry.

I got to watch my incredible husband do an amazing thing: follow through on a promise that he would beat AML. I was witness to the X factor. All the stats and studies that I read and reread in the beginning, they don’t account for the X factor, which is Scotts commitment to staying positive and believing he would get better. Faith. It’s real, and makes all the difference.

Though the year started off with a lot of absence from our home, Scott spent so much time with our kids and had an incredible opportunity to get to know them so much better than he would have otherwise. He became part of the daytime routine, dropping the older kids off at school, and being the first to get those big excited after school hugs and smiles at pickup. When typically the third child gets the least one-on-one time, he was able to cuddle and play with Leigh and watch her learn to walk and talk much more closely than he did Harrison and Mallory-Jane. I’ve also had the unique opportunity to spend the majority of my time with him… and it’s been so great.

Now we look forward, confident that the worst is behind us, with a commitment to contribute to the fight against leukaemia in a meaningful way. Having access to the medical care he received, in such an aggressive proactive manner, was life saving for Scott. He’s so fortunate. We’re so fortunate.

Scott is working with the Hamilton Hospital Network Foundation on their Tomorrow Stems from You campaign. The goal of the campaign is to raise funds for the expansion of the Juravinski Cancer Centre stem cell transplant program to provide 50% more patients with the same potentially life saving treatment. If you’re interested in more information or looking for a place to make a holiday donation: https://hamiltonhealth.ca/stems/

The holiday season is upon us, and with 2016 in the rearview we’re looking forward to what is coming next. A friend gave us a plastic red lipstick pen last year….it has been hanging on our kitchen cabinet door since. Until today, when it was moved to the Christmas tree as an ornament. In years to come, when we unwrap the “special” ornaments with the kids and explain why we have them, we will share how this ornament is from 2016 – the year Daddy beat cancer.