Eleven Years

I was riding shotgun along the Richardson Highway in Alaska, miles of wilderness passing by, when I got a message to call Mom. Unusual for her to contact me while I'm out of town, I immediately assumed the worst. Someone died. It had to be. First my mind went to Grandma, who has been slow to recover from open heart surgery. Then my second thought was Delainey, my five year old cousin. I learned the latter to be true.

Today begins my eleventh year in remission. As I've said before in these yearly posts, it doesn't get a lot easier being a survivor as time goes on. The fear of recurrence is still there and the survivor guilt doesn't diminish. This year was especially hard on me and my family.

My dad's side of the family is special. One of twelve children, calling my dad's family big is an understatement. I have nearly fifty cousins on that side alone. Despite the size, the family is closely knit and everyone rallies together in a crisis. They gathered around my hospital bed after my numerous surgeries and hospitalizations and they did so for Lainey too. I'm uncomfortable sharing more details since her story isn't mine to tell, I'll leave you with this, a link to her obituary. (Warning: you might need tissues, I sure did.)

Lainey, I'm happy that you're finally cancer-free, too!