Seeing God’s Beauty Through Childhood Cancer
There really aren’t words vivid enough to describe watching your child go through a major health journey. My son, Cooper, was diagnosed with a soft tissue cancer called Rhabdomyosarcoma. It is a rare, very aggressive cancer if not caught early, can quickly become devastating. By the time the tumors presented in Cooper and we were into scans, the cancer had spread everywhere. The tumors were on his bones, his liver, pancreas, in his right forearm, they had tumors wrapped around his lower spine and in his bone marrow. The doctor gave us a 10% chance of a year for survival. To read more about our story jump over to my post that shares our whole story.
Early on, it was clear this journey was out of my control. The only thing that made sense was looking for Christ’s beauty in something every single day, even in the worst days. HE gave me plenty of “winks” to let me know HE was walking with us, crying with us, celebrating with us. And HE was fighting for us.
My faith was all I had some days and it was shaken to the core. For our family, we had to split up our time with our boys. I carried our insurance and had to remain working and with my older son, while my husband was in Memphis with Cooper through treatment.
The guilt of being his mom and not being there every moment was haunting me every second of every day. My husband and I would switch places, and I was with Cooper, I soaked up every moment, the good to the horrific.
Kids are seriously resilient. During his treatment, Cooper proved the doctors wrong over and over. His body defied the scientific laws. It was clear that God had spent extra time in creating this kiddo named Cooper.
What my son taught me through treatment
To be a kid again..
Cooper was (still is) in the fight of his life through treatment and laughter can sometimes turn the moment, hour or day around. We went through extremes at times to get a laugh. Some days we walked the halls with a fart machine..he laughed, I turned red. Other days, it was pulling pranks on the nurses or having Nerf gun wars in the apartment. I’ll be the first to admit, letting go of being proper was a lot easier for my husband than myself!
To dance every chance possible
During treatment, there are hours upon hours of downtime that generally include tv, movies, or gaming of some sort. On the good days, he blared TobyMac and danced. The amazing thing about watching him dance, was that it wasn’t something he really did before his diagnosis. Breaking out the moves made him feel like a kid just having fun and were the best moments of his treatment.
To be wow’ed by what a child can endure..
I’m not entirely sure “wow’ed” is the correct word, but the roller coaster of treatment ran the gamete a few times a day. There were days where Cooper’s red blood cells were low and he would go from lethargic to dancing after a pint of blood.
Celebrate even the smallest things, because everything is worth celebrating
Do you remember when your child walked, then ran, then rode a bike, and did all the other ‘normal’ kid stuff? It is heartbreaking when they become robbed of even those simplest childhood favorite pastimes. For Cooper, seeing him ride his scooter instead of a wheelchair made my heart soar. When he got his new leg braces to assist him in walking with neuropathy, it made my heart skip a beat to see him jog, keeping in mind that he was a natural running athlete prior to his diagnosis. After we moved back home, but were still on maintenance treatment, he got his bike out that he hadn’t ridden in 3 years and just started riding.
Have faith like a child
During Cooper’s treatment, we often did a family devotion of “Jesus Calling For Kids”. Almost nightly, the devotional spoke beautifully to whatever our day had looked like. Cooper never once expressed anger with God for the painful journey he endured through his 67 weeks of harsh chemo and radiation.
Love the bald
One of the things that I do actually miss from treatment is my son’s bald super soft beautiful head. Kids going through their own cancer journey are usually beautifully bald. They are ‘normal’ in that environment and there is such acceptance while in the treatment space. The process of my son loosing his hair was heartbreaking. But his bald head was representative of the battle he was fighting and the beauty in his spirit.
My prayer for you in the midst of treatment:
Heavenly Father,
You are good in all things. Thank you for your everlasting grace. Lord, you have a plan for us and I pray you use this journey to show us Your almighty power. In Joshua 1:9, you tell us to be "strong and courageous". It is easier said than done today, Lord. Help us to see beauty in this journey every single day. Provide us peace in our hearts and to feel your overwhelming presence throughout our days.
Amen
