The Time I Had Cancer

"This is a story all about how

my life got flipped, turned upside down."

STORY TIME! No, for real, this isn't some click-bait-y title, where I promise you a good story and then you walk away thinking, "That was it?" This story is real. And kind of hard to tell; not hard emotionally, but hard because I feel like such a phony when I say it aloud. 

When I was 18 months old, I was diagnosed with leukemia on February 14th; happy Valentine's Day, huh? The cancer was discovered because I had broken my foot. Maybe someday I'll tell you guys about my significant number of bone breaks over the years, but for now we'll stick with this one. 

When my dad was babysitting me while my mom was running errands, I decided to climb on my toy chest. Now, I wasn't allowed to do this (for obvious safety reasons), but my dad allowed me to anyway, thinking I would be okay. But I was wearing socks, and before anyone could do anything, I had slipped and gotten a hairline fracture through my foot. 

Although my mom still gives my dad a hard time for letting me climb on my toy chest that day, it had God's finger prints all over it. If I hadn't gone in to get my foot checked, the cancer might not have been discovered until too late.

After I was diagnosed, the standard medical procedures were  implemented: chemo, spinal taps, etc. I don't remember any of this. It could be because I was so young, or my brain could've blocked all those memories, tucking the box in a far corner, like that corner of the basement no one organizes 'casue there's mildew and spiders. 

A lot of people have said to me over the years that it's a blessing I don't remember any of the treatment. But honestly, I wish I did remember some of it. Not having any recollection of that time in my life is what makes me feel like such a phony.

In grade school and high school, I made cancer a part of my identity. I went to all the Relay for Life events, showing up early for the survivor breakfast, and later taking part in the survivor walk. It was just something that I did. I was also usually the only survivor of childhood cancer at these events, and having that uniqueness to surround me felt nice.

Most people knew me and knew that I was the kid who survived cancer. It was comforting to be apart of something. But as I grew older , I realized how little I had in common with the other survivors. 

You see, the other survivors had had cancer. Most of them were older and remembered everything that happened. They fought their cancer head on and beat it with their own hope and strength. I was just the kid who had cancer when she was little, but had been healed for quite some time. 

I wasn't on part with these other survivors. I wasn't a part of their group. So I just downplayed my survival and took it for granted.

Now that I'm a college woman, I have much more perspective on the matter (HA!). But seriously, I think I now know what my cancer means for my life and for my family.

While I was going through treatment, my family  was stretched like a piece of silly putty across a kitchen. That time really tested their faith in God. But God did not abandon them- quite the opposite actually. He brought the body of Christ to lend all kinds of amazing support, both physical and spiritual. We had so many people praying for us, we couldn't escape God's presence. 

As for how my cancer has affected me, to this day I still feel like a phony; like I didn't really have cancer and I just keep telling some elaborate story. But, I do have one memory from my cancer days that affects me: 

       I'm laying in my hospital bed with my mom watching Veggie Tales. The tape ends and the screen        turns blue. I turn to my mom to ask her to put in another one, but she's asleep. 

I think those were my early days of binge watching

That memory is as clear as day to me, and I have no idea why. It isn't very significant, except to remind me that it was real; it was all real.

I want to tell you guys about this amazing brand that helps kids with cancer. No, this isn't a sponsored post (my blog is so small, who would want to sponsor me?), but it is a brand that I have come to know and love. It is call Love Your Melon.  

I will let you guys explore their website so you can know their story and all that they sell. But basically, they sell hats on their site, and with each purchase, a hat is donated to a child with cancer and 50% of the profits are donated to pediatric cancer research. Pretty cool, right? 

Finding a brand like Love Your Melon reminds me why my story is important. Because a lot of these kids might end up like me in the future. They probably won't remember much about this time in their lives, especially if they're under the age of five.

But right now, they remember everything in the day to day: all the needles, all the pain, all the fear. But the cool thing about Love Your Melon is that they deliver a lot of their hats in person to the kids in cancer wards all over the country, and they do it dressed in super hero capes. 

The child may not remember the day 10 years from now but they will remember it tomorrow and the day day after that. And their families will most certainly remember the day, especially the joy in their child's face.

I really hope you guys consider getting a Love Your Melon hat. It's knit out of cotton, so it is really soft on the skin; plus, if you sweat, it will wick away the moisture instead of making you feel uncomfortable (trust me, I get head sweats). When you buy one, you not only get a great hat for winter, but you also give a child with cancer a great day and a better chance at survival.

I think this is why I had cancer, this moment right here. So I can tell others my story in the hopes of inspiring them to give these kids a chance at life. Companies like Love Your Melon make me feel so connected to my cancer story and to all the kids out there with cancer.

You know how everyone has a niche of what causes they are passionate about? Well, I'm passionate about eradicating childhood cancer. I may not have much of a story, but it's mine and it's real, and I hope it inspires someone out there to care about this too.

k, bye.