From my caring bridge site:
On Tuesday I will celebrate 3 years of a beautiful life that was not promised, not expected, and certainly not in my favor. And, I will celebrate it in remission. Did I think I would be here? No. Did I want to be here? With all of my heart and soul.
Today our pressure cooker gets to remain cracked open so we can breathe. We stared at the screen as my doctor passed through every organ from my neck down and then we asked to read the report for good measure. Nothing there. He complimented me on my good looking spinal cord. I thanked him - I’m quite proud of that considering all the trauma my poor cord and I have been through. He called my report boring. I would beg to differ. My hematologist gave me a comparison chart of my blood counts that he has been watching over the last 18 months. I was a little in shock to see it in print. Basically, when I was diagnosed with leukemia last May, 57% of the cells in my blood were leukemia cells, which means that more than half of what was circulating in my body was filled with cancer cells. Lovely. I’m going to say that sometimes it’s best not to know or understand how sick you are. It also may be best to be so stubborn. I mean, who walks around like that? I’ll get the final results of my blood test later this week but as of August, those numbers were almost undetectable. Amazing.
So, here I sit. Still trying to comprehend it all. I’m in a place where I wasn’t supposed to be. But, it looks like I was. Lighting one more cancer birthday candle.
I was recently asked to name a pivotal moment in my life. Easy I thought, of course it was the day I was diagnosed with cancer. But, then I started thinking. It was also the day I was born, the day I knew I would marry my husband, the day I married my husband, the day my son was born, the day my daughter was born, the day my mom was diagnosed with cancer, the day she died, the day I survived surgery, the day I could run, and every time I go back to that room to look at that screen to see what is or isn’t there. My life pivots constantly. That’s the way it is.
We live a life that is pretty much on the edge but I have to say that we live it well.
We love deeply around here. We strive to do what will be important in 5 years and I’ve tried to let go of worrying about what I can’t change. I do what I can to make memories for my kids that will last. They can’t see the devastation on our faces from the Christmas pictures the year I was diagnosed or the pain I can feel when I look at pictures from the Christmas before my surgery. They don’t see the relief we felt last Christmas. They only see their mommy and daddy, new toys, and memories of Christmas morning gingerbread man pancakes. They get to be kids. For this, I am grateful.
Our life is a real life full of oops - like our Christmas cards that arrived today so beautifully printed with a but with a grammatical error. At one point in my life, I wouldn’t have sent them and even though it drives me a little crazy, I think they are a great representation of us - real, imperfect, and full of life - the picture’s pretty good, so I really don’t have room to complain. After all, I’m not posting my work on Pinterest or anything. If I was perfect, our little elves wouldn’t have arrived dressed so cutely but confused in gender. Bailey was a little weirded out that his elf, Fred, was wearing the tutu. Oops. Silly elf.
So, Merry Christmas from the Jessops. We’ve already gotten our gift. Our Christmas pictures will once again be filled with joy - and probably one or two kids hitting each other before it’s all said and done. We pray that God continues continues to protect us and use our imperfections as only He can.
Kimberly
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