This Mother’s Day story is a readers’ favorite. First published in May, 2012, it has an update at the end.
I’M NOT a big fan of amusement park rides: the kiddie train or a quick spin on the carousel horse is about my speed. On the day our son had his first anaphylactic reaction, I walked away from the emergency room in a daze.
It seemed we had been handed complimentary lifetime passes on the ultimate rollercoaster, with an epinephrine auto-injector prescription as our ticket stub. And the kicker was that boarding wasn’t even optional; this ride was in motion – we’d just completed our first loop-de-loop.
I felt blindsided by my son’s new diagnosis and overwhelmed by the realization that the world as I knew it had just changed. Yet, this was not at all the case for my friend Micheline on the day she was diagnosed with celiac disease. In fact, her experience was completely the opposite. Micheline celebrated receiving her celiac ‘ticket’ with utter gratitude for the gluten-free life that loomed ahead. She didn’t even wait for that train to come to a full stop before hopping on.
Why, you’ll be wondering, would anyone want to join a club whose members have to read the ingredients on every food package, spend countless hours researching safe foods and scour grocery aisles for “free-from” food products.
Why would Micheline, a busy mom of two who works full-time, look forward to endless hours preparing that additional “safe” meal just for herself?
Let’s just say that Micheline’s story proves how much life comes down to perspective.
You see, in addition to being a mother, a navy wife, a nurse and a cherished friend, Micheline is a cancer survivor. A routine annual mammogram first detected the cancer she developed in both breasts. I will never forget sitting on her front steps as she shared the news.
We held hands, we wept, we clung to each other. Her fears were not for herself but for how her two children – Amanda (then 10) and Matthew (then 5) – would navigate life without their mother.
To complicate matters, her cancer diagnosis coincided with an out-of-province transfer for her family. Their Ottawa home had been sold weeks before, and there was no option but to proceed with the imminent move. Just 48 hours after having sat together on her front steps, we shared a very tearful goodbye.
Once in Victoria, British Columbia, Micheline underwent a double radical mastectomy followed by chemotherapy. Almost 5,000 kilometres (3,000 miles) now divided Micheline from the support of extended family and friends. With her husband and children by her side, Micheline bravely put up the fight of her life.
She put on the biggest pair of boots she could find and proceeded to kick the big ‘C’ to the curb.
She faced surgery, surgical complications and chemotherapy – all with the fiercest determination and an astonishing ability to see humor in everything. Our phone conversations were loud, long and full of laughter. I’d often hang up feeling better, wondering how my friend had ended up comforting me when my intention had been to console her.
Just two weeks after her last chemotherapy treatment, Micheline chose to return to work. This was an important part of her healing process; keeping life as normal as possible helped Micheline to stay focused and strong. ‘Normal’ during this time of recovery included returning to work as a nurse, attending to as many parenting and household responsibilities as she could, and her situation was compounded by her husband having to leave on a five-month military deployment.
Just when her health concerns should have subsided, new ones arose.
Next: Celiac Rears Its Head