Five Years Later

This morning I sat in a waiting room...I sat, waiting for a nurse to come and tell me "it" was all over. I read a book, watched "The Today Show," and flipped through a miriad of magazines - all the while waiting for that moment. An hour later, the nurse appeared, led me to Jamie and pronounced, "He's doing well. You can go home soon." Sigh of relief...and memories of years past when today felt a million miles away.

Five years ago - September, 2005 - I sat in a different waiting room and a different nurse came to get me. Doctors then greeted us with very different news regarding Jamie's health - "You have a mass in your colon and it's cancer." Just like that - direct, to the point, not great bedside manner. Just like that, our world shifted and for the first time in our relationship, we faced news that would forever alter our lives. At 28 years old, with no previous conditions or family history, Jamie was diagnosed with stage 3 colon cancer.

After months of complaining about feeling sick, I had told him to either go to the doctor or quit complaining. So, he went. And a few tests later, we ended up sitting in a curtained off room hearing those words, "You have cancer." We were stunned and left that doctor's office to tell Jamie's parents and make some phone calls. He had a colonoscopy that led to a diagnosis on Tuesday that week. Wednesday we met with a surgeon; Friday he had surgery to remove 18 inches of his colon. In the midst of that, we met with an oncologist and a month later he had a surgery to place a port in his chest wall for "easy" access during the next six months of chemotheraphy. I remember when he was diagnosed, my mom told me, "In a few years this will feel like a blip on the radar." In so many ways, she is right. Jamie responded well to treatment, goes to his follow-up visits with the oncologist, gets his annual tests and screenings, and has - God bless - now been cancer free for five years.

So, this morning - after five years of being cancer free - Jamie had that same port removed that they'd placed there all those years ago. We have become somewhat used to this routine - the early morning arrivals and procedures, the waiting rooms, the curtained exam rooms. And even though my brain knew this was a minor procedure and everything would go fine, I couldn't help feeling a little anxious as I sat in that room and relived some of those moments from all those years ago. Not to mention that we now live in a world where things don't always go the way they "should," I was very relieved to see that nurse's face, calling, "Erica?" And I walked back to that room, where my fuzzy-faced husband sat eating pretzels and sipping apple juice.

As we drove home a while later, I was reflecting on these last five years. We'd been dating one year when Jamie was diagnosed with cancer. Since then, we have endured so much and our relationship is stronger than it ever has been. I know that our experiences have shaped us and strenthened us. I know that some of these experiences are ones we would not chosen if given the choice. But, we weren't given a choice. So we have dealt with life as it has happened. Though some experiences will never feel like a "blip on the radar," it is nice to be reminded that time heals. Time mends. You never forget, but you move forward and let the experience become a part of you.

Erica