This past weekend, we were so grateful to be able to celebrate the 1-year anniversary of Ava's clear scans. It is truly hard to believe that it has been a full year. We marked the occasion by planting a tree in our backyard. It's a crepe myrtle with pink blooms, much like the ones that cover the campus of St. Jude.
Below is what I wrote to read during the tree-planting "ceremony." Also, many thanks to Bo, who read it out loud for me after it became clear that I could not get through it.
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When we left for Memphis for the scans that would reveal Ava’s cancer free status a year ago yesterday, we could barely bring ourselves to hope for the disappearance of all those cells. There had been too much bad news and we had basically trained ourselves to present an outward image of hope and confidence, while inwardly the worst-case scenarios swirled in our heads – statistics and probabilities and tiny, hidden microscopic cells, sent out by our nemesis: Beatrice the Tumor.
We named it Beatrice - we named the tumor. Seems kinda silly now, but at that time, it was helpful to aim our fear and anger towards something with a human name. Most importantly, it seemed to help Ava. During her 4-month battle against Beatrice, she was equipped with all the tools necessary to have a chance – the best doctors in the world, state-of-the-art medical equipment, a world-renowned hospital, and most importantly, a supportive and present family.
I can only share from my experience, but I know that when we heard that Beatrice was gone – completely annihilated – I felt a little numb. It didn’t seem like it could be true; this has to be the worlds shortest cancer journey.
It was, but also it wasn’t, because the journey continues. I’m still learning you can never walk away from cancer. We see it every day – in others in our community, in our learned behaviors, and most significantly, when we look at Ava. It will be some time before her hair isn’t a constant reminder of that bald head and I know we will all miss these curls. But for those of us who know her well, we can see the marks that cancer left with her.
When I look at Ava I see the bravest, strongest girl I’ve ever known. I see a girl who looked a tumor named Beatrice in the eye and said, “I’m not scared of the Beast in the Belly” – I see a girl who continuously laughed while crying and cried while laughing and understood it was ok to be both happy and sad at the same time. I see a girl who grew up too fast and was forced to overcome unimaginable pain. I see a girl who was able to verbalize what it feels like to be in her body – a skill that most of us were never taught. I see in Ava a girl becoming a woman whose journey was interrupted with trauma, who is now aware that she can take on anything because she’s already defeated cancer. She demonstrated over and over that you can be both scared and brave at the same time. She endured more needle pokes in the past 16 months than most of us will have in our entire lives and there are still more to come. Ava shows me what its like to be fierce and brave and that this way of being in the world can help you do the hardest things. You have quite a story to tell and how you use your story for good will be your life’s challenge.
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Ava's 1-year scans are the last week of October - thank you for praying for her!
