The Atlanta Nanny

The Threat

~January 1st, 2017. Children's Healthcare of Atlanta. Stage 2 Hodgkins Lymphoma.~

 In this photo, I am 18, and John is 19. It's cold, we are anxious about the news we just heard, and yet you might be wondering "why are they smiling?". Despite the fact that we had been told John has cancer, as "first loves", it was that day in the hospital that we decided to try dating again.  You see, in the fall of 2016 after dating for 3 years we split up because of distant. We both attended different colleges in different states. I had chosen to stay in Georgia at UNG whereas John took a gap year and went to a ministry school. Sidenote, we are both Christians. He dumped me (AKA broke my heart as I would say) at the end of August and we had spoken no more than a "happy birthday" until December. 4 months of silence from who I only knew to be as the love of my life. We were each other's firsts loves. I was baffled over how you could just cut someone off like that. He was my best friend. I must admit that in his defense, I was clingy and he just wanted freedom for the first time in his life: away from parents, siblings, friends, and a girlfriend (me) who begged for marriage. My behavior post-breakup looked like something out of a teen romance movie. I overdramatically felt like I lost my identity. I was stubborn, and during our split, I was more angry with myself at how I had lost focus in life. I was also furious that the guy I spent all of high-school with ghosted me. But I regained balance BECAUSE of that silence. Of course, it was painful but it had to be done to break me out of the horrible habit of dependency on my significant other. Ahhh the woes of young love. But I am grateful. So here I am, at the end of my first year of college during Christmas break. I decided to go with a couple of friends of mine to the Passion Conference. For people in Atlanta, they know for the most part what this is. Passion City Church, one of the biggest churches in the ATL annually hosts the Passion conference for young adults ages 18-26. It grew to be so large that they had to hold it in the Georgia Dome that year. Anyways, it's the 2nd night of the conference right before the next "talk". My girlfriends and I just snagged an early dinner and were lounging around our hotel room. I got a weird text from John's mom asking if I had heard the news. She simply replied, "John hasn't told you yet?"  That's when I realized something serious must have happened. 15 minutes later I'm in the hallway sobbing on the phone with the man I loved. He's told me he's been admitted to the hospital and they are about to speak with doctors about possible treatment options. John was diagnosed with stage 2 Hodgkin's Lymphoma. Granted, we had not spoken in months; it was more upsetting that the first time we really talked was full of nothing but bad news. Luckily for me, a lot can change a person in 4 months. I knew I was more mature at this point because despite all the overgrown weeds around me I still learned to flourish. It made me a stronger woman, the kind that is loving and selfless.  I'm thankful that now, almost a year into remission, that we are okay. For other families and other teens in neighboring hospital beds who were running the same race were not so fortunate. They have not yet crossed the finish line or never finished the race: and that breaks our hearts. Even after beating it, the threat is still there. It's not something that is always on your mind with a sense of urgency. It's more like the sudden small feeling in the back of your head that you might have left the stove on, or forgot to feed your pet before you left for the day. Every cough is a reminder that it's back. Every short breath you take, headache, and pain in your chest is a small reminder telling you "I'm still here".  It's the toxic person in your life who's only power is the ability to haunt you. Sometimes he wakes up scared that he was taken from me, back to the hospital, and soon in the morgue. The threat of it coming back affects every life decision you make. Family? I'm sorry, you might be infertile because of the chemotherapy. Bills? You owe the hospital for "curing" you so you can forget being debt-free. We will forever have to "mind our health". Cancer changes the way you think, speak, act, and plan for the future. Cancer is a thief who has come only to steal your choices, stability, and sanity. Ideally, since John and I are so young,  we want to wait 7 years before having children of our own. Hopefully, with that amount of time, John's body and reproductive cells and organs will have recovered by then for us to try. When I think about what we went through as a young couple, I surprise myself with my own strength. I can't act like I understand what it was completely like. Afterall, I was not the one diagnosed with or treated for cancer. I had the honor of being the loved one who held the responsibility of 100% support. All I had during that situation was the gift of being apart of John's journey through a troubling time. I didn't abuse or refuse my title. If you are someone who is either going through cancer or a loved one who is close to someone with cancer, to both of you I say: keep an open mind. Decide for yourself, choose what you choose for yourself. We had wiggle room so John took control of his treatment. The doctors recommended he should start 3 rounds of radiation after he already had 4 rounds of chemo. John stopped chemo in August of 2017 after being fed up with the sickness and believing that 4 rounds of chemo were enough for him. He was cleared for remission in November of that year. All of that you say keep an open mind in treatment. You don't always have to go with what we could only consider as expert opinion. Cancer technology, treatment, and research that is AVAILABLE to us are still too far behind for us to pretend that we know how to combat it. Cancer is still a beyond our belief concept. Therefore, do what is best for you. It is ultimately your body, not your parent's, not your spouse's, not your child's, and certainly not the doctors. As far as being the loved one goes, keep an open mind. If you don't have a degree or an extensive knowledge in cancer treatment, don't force your opinion down their throats. You are not receiving treatment or going through this hell so stop being overbearing. Maybe that's what you would do, or what you think they should do, but to reiterate, it is not your body but theirs. It's our job to be the main line of encouragement and support. Please be responsible for your thoughts, words, and actions. If you know someone going through a possibly terminal illness, reach out to them and encourage them. Some of the most heartwarming things people did for John was to send him encouragement every now and then, even if it had been years since they've connected. It's not too late to step up and make their day better. As cliche but also as truthful as this is, you never know what someone might be going through. Thank you to everyone currently making a difference or to whoever has already made a difference.