Yesterday a newly diagnosed mom had my blog shared with her. The specific post was one that has gotten a lot of attention over the years. When people read that post, most of them are weeks, months, or even years into pediatric cancer and overwhelmingly appreciate it. But not this mom.
She is mere days into diagnosis. She is still in the, “Surely this isn’t happening,” of it all. And so when she read my blog and realized, oh no dear one, this is very much happening, her reply to me was, “I just can’t believe I have all this in front of me.”
I am sure plenty of readers have come across my blog and thought that. I mean, especially once Beaudin relapsed, this space became a, “I hope that doesn’t happen to us too,” for all of my standard-risk cancer readers. But yesterday, I reflected that knowing about this blog may actually be too much for a newly diagnosed parent to take it.
A while back, actually probably back in 2021 (aka deep in relapse hell) I heard some soundbite on social media along the lines of, “If you could go back to your 11 year-old self and tell her something, what would it be?” The idea being that you would offer her encouragement.
I heard the clip and immediately thought, “Run.”
My second thought was, “Oh, well that’s shitty.”
We were deep in relapse and all I could think of was protecting any previous version of myself that was headed this direction. Which in many ways, at face value, made sense. Survival. And also the whole thing just stung. I didn’t want a life that I was warning my past self about.
The other day. I thought about that same soundbite. The thought was out of no where really, but it came to me.
“If you could go back to your 11 year-old self and tell her something, what would it be?”
This time my response was different. I didn’t have any words. I didn’t know what I would say. I pulled out my phone and snapped this picture.
“I would show her this.”
I am starting a new category on the blog and it’s called, “I would show her this” This is the first post.
11-year old Betsy. I am not sure there are any words I could offer about all this that wouldn’t make you feel anything, except “I just can’t believe I have all this in front of me.” But I do hope you can look at this picture and believe that it is all going to be worth it.
Trust me. This, this is living. There won’t be words to describe it, but there will be knowing.
Yesterday a newly diagnosed mom had my blog shared with her. When she read it her reply to me was, “I just can’t believe I have all this in front of me.”
I would show her this.
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