Posted: Dec. 29, 2009 |(0) Comments

In mid-November 2008, I went to my doctor to determine what was causing the pain I was feeling in my lower right side. What I thought would be gall stones turned out to be stage four follicular lymphoma.

After a series of CT scans, biopsies and blood tests, the doctor informed me that follicular lymphoma is not curable and because it is at stage four, I would have to start on chemotherapy right away. He did not make any promises, but he didn't tell me I was finished, either.

So I underwent eight treatments, once every three weeks. The treatment was harsh, but I tolerated it and I took each day as it came.

First the hair loss, then the mouth sores, extreme fatigue all the time, brain fog and weight loss. And pain and isolation.

Midway through my treatments, my mother, who lived in Philadelphia, passed away. I had not visited her in a while because I was hiding my cancer diagnosis from her.

Some glimmers of hope

It was the longest winter of my of life now filled with blank spots in my memory. And as I struggle to recall the experience, I think the blank spots are just the bad memories that are blinded by the light of the good things that happened to me during this time.

That's right, good things happened, too.

First, there is my family: my wife, Susie, and my daughters, Jaclyn and Jessica. They are my reason for living. They took care of me while living their lives as normally as possible. They told me I looked good when I know I looked like a train wreck. If they were scared for me, they never let me see it and they never saw my fear either.

We grew in faith and love together.

Church played key role

Speaking of faith, there is my faith community of St. James Church. For years, I helped out with buildings and grounds and shoveled their snow. Now church members were shoveling mine. They prayed for me and checked up on me often. They offered to take me to appointments, shopping, anything I needed.

I also realized how lucky I am to live in Franklin. I realized I have friends and neighbors who care about me. They, too, helped out during one of our snowiest winters. They kept in touch, paid visits, spent time with me and gave me games, puzzles and paints to help me pass the time.

It sure is nice to know that when you are down on your luck there are people out there, right there in you neighborhood, who will help you through a difficult journey.

I can't say enough about the excellent care I received at the Wheaton Franciscan Cancer Care-Reiman Center in Franklin, where I received my treatments. The level of care I received - and the professional yet warm and caring staff - is probably as good as it gets. I feel like they are my friends. They are my friends.

My cancer diagnosis is under control, I've been back at work since June and am ready to shovel some snow.

Count your blessings

It shouldn't take a diagnosis of cancer for us to realize the blessings we have. We take so much for granted. At least I did, as I hurried about in my busy life losing sight of what's important.

If I learned anything, it has to be that nothing, nothing is as important as your family, friends and faith.

I'll close with a quote from one of my favorite authors, Robert Fulghum:

"The grass is not always greener on the other side of the fence. Fences have nothing to do with it. The grass is greenest where it is watered. When crossing over fences, carry water with you and tend the grass wherever you may be."

Amen to that, my friends!

 

- Mike Krupsky

Franklin