In honor of melanoma awareness month, I couldn’t decide if I
should pay tribute, provide encouragement, or offer warning. So I think I’ll do
all three. And I’ll start with this:
To my loves who live
on in our hearts, thank you Thank
you for the privilege of witnessing your fights. Thank you for showing us all
what it means to be strong. Thank you for the laughter, the smiles, the
expressions of love that eased all of our pain. You have shown us all how beautiful
raw humanity can be, and that when you peel away the layers of life’s
unimportance, you are just left with love.
To my warrior brothers and sisters in the midst of battle,
keep going. One step at a time. One surgery at a time, one treatment at a time,
one nightmare-filled restless night at a time, one desperate agonizing wait for scan results at a time. You can do it. In the midst of the pain and the fear, stay
focused on the hope. Keep your eyes open
to the love you are being shown, the clear sense of life’s priorities with
which you’ve now been gifted, and the fact that you are now, and will forever
remain, the strongest people I know. The nightmare will end and you will be
free again, I promise. And when you are, you will revel in the beautiful lesson
you’ve learned, you will be constantly amazed by everyday life, and you will
know, with certainty, what true happiness means.
To my survivor soulmates, celebrate. Celebrate and advocate.
Keep those amazing lessons close to your hearts, and never forget that now is
the time to thrive. Thank you for your continued friendships and support. Thank
you for picking me back up on those days where my own lessons are just out of
reach. And please, spread your wisdom and your love to others who are not as
far along in their own journeys. They need you just as much as I do. The world is a better place because every
single one of you is still in it.
To the doctors who are saving our lives, gratitude does not
even begin to cover it. It is only because of your commitment and dedication to
finding improved treatment options that we are still here. It is you to whom we
pray. They are your faces we see in our minds as we beg desperately to remain.
It is your every word, every touch, every encouragement to which we cling. And
it is you who are delivering us from evil. Keep going, never be satisfied; we are making
great progress but there’s more work to be done. We need you. Our children need
you. And we are thankful for you with overwhelming awe every single morning we
open our eyes.
To my amazing friends and loved ones who fit none of the categories
above, you’re the best. It is you who give me a constant reminder of what it
means to be alive. It’s your laughter and light and fun and love and everyday
conversations that kept me from traversing that fine line between hope and
despair. It is you who brought me back from the breach to live again. Thank you
for your strength, your shoulders, your guidance, your love, and your
unwavering hope. It is you who are my greatest delights. And to my sweet Jeff and perfect baby Kai
(who is now 5!), you are the reason for everything.
To everyone reading this, check yourselves and protect
yourselves. Check for irregular moles and lesions – even let a dermatologist do
it for you, at least twice per year. Always wear sunscreen, and especially
protect those little ones. Just one
blistering childhood burn doubles your chance of developing melanoma. Stay in
the shade, and protect your skin. Stop tanning!
It isn’t beautiful, it’s deadly. Learn more here: www.melanoma.org and here: www.curemelanoma.org and here: www.melanomainternational.org. Find information about clinical trials here: www.bethesdatrials.cancer.gov
and here: www.clinicaltrials.gov.
And if you or anyone you know needs help, reach out. I’m here for you as are hundreds of others,
and we would be honored to know you.
It’s been 5 years since I was told I had 6 months to
live, and it’s been 3 years since that first amazing scan showing no
evidence of disease. But it is only recently that I have truly been brought
back to life. It is only recently that I’ve
remembered what it feels like to be really alive. The years of living with a self-preserving disconnect
between body and mind are starting to dissipate, and I am becoming whole once
again. And all the parts of me that went to sleep during the past 5 years are
starting to wake up. All the time I
spent hoping against hope just to survive, has been answered 1,000 times now
that I also remember what it means to be alive.
And for that I am thankful. Melanoma, nobody wants to meet you, but for those of us who do: for every single life lesson you've taught
me, and for every beautiful being I am blessed to know more fully because of
you, I am thankful.
