Twelve years ago, I learned to make each day count.
My husband was diagnosed with cancer, shortly followed by an intense relapse. During that time it was as if time stood still. My vision was laser focused on what was important and I learned to value and make each day count.
In the case of my husband, the cancer presented itself one Sunday evening in the form of several very prominent veins in his chest. He hopped in the shower after a day of working in the yard. As he got out of the shower, he called me in and asked me if it was “normal” to see these bright blue veins, clearly visible on one side of his chest, radiating out toward his left shoulder.
I told him we needed to head to the Cleveland Clinic ER, which was just a few miles away. He told me to stay home with our newborn baby and promised he’d provide updates as he found out what was going on.
I put our daughter to bed and quickly went in to my home office. I had just officially quit my job in drug development 9 days prior. So much for my dream of “early retirement” I was now thrust back into the world of medical research, but this time, I had much more skin in the game. As I searched the internet, my pulse quickened…. words like “lymphoma… cancer… obstruction… and aneurysm” floated through my mind and were confirmed on my computer screen. The text updates came. “I don’t think this is good…” Followed by “heading to CT. They think it might be aneurysm, cutting in the morning.” There were a few more updates over the next few hours, then at about 2 AM, “Heading home. We need to go back in the morning.”
The veins in the chest, coupled with the recent night sweats pointed to lymphoma. My heart sank. It was as if my world was quickly crumbling right before my eyes.
The only person I ever knew who had lymphoma was dead 5 days after diagnosis. The thought that my husband could be gone by Friday was more than I could bear. I knew we had to create a lifetime of memories in the next 5 days. I took pictures and video of him with our infant child, trying to preserve and document their relationship and to freeze this moment in time.
Thankfully my husband recovered and is still healthy to this day. That’s a story for another time. But for now, I gently nudge you to remember to make each day count. Focus on the stuff that truly matters and let the rest fall away. I know, easier said than done, but for me, when I look back to how blessed and lucky I am to still have my husband in my life, it makes it a little easier to overlook the trash cans still out at the curb.
xoxo