The Cry, The Battle, & The Battle Cry.

THE CRY:
"Little Girl, we have some bad news."

My dad's voice echoes in my head. After that sentence, everything went numb... blank. When the dust settled, I had absolutely no recollection of the time between hearing those words and hearing my alarm clock. It was Tuesday, May 29. I had "lost" 5 days.

Later, I would learn that I had embarked on 5 days of uncharacteristically rash behavior. I had walked out on my job... and didn't care. I had cancelled a date with one of the most eligible 20-somethings in South Florida... and didn't care. I had stood up my friends on a slew of social events that had been planned months before... you know the drill. The point is, I had not budged from my apartment. Nobody came in... I didn't answer my phone...

A few days later, I heard the same words again... this time I remember. The cancer had not been detected early. It was not "necessarily" terminal. What kind of a thing is that to say? Although those words were meant to encourage, they stung... they stung badly.

I lost it. This wasn't fair. Not my mom. My mom, who worked so diligently to give her kids a healthy upbringing? I have no idea how my brothers handed it. The only words we were able to share on the topic were, "This sucks." The only person who could console me was my mother herself, and that was unacceptable. Because I must be strong for her, the crying had to stop. This was the cry.

THE BATTLE:
After countless hours of sitting at the desk in my bedroom, watching airplanes take off and land at the Ft. Lauderdale Airport, I knew only one thing. I needed to go home. This was unacceptable. My mother is going through the toughest battle of her life, and I am 1,500 miles away. Completely unacceptable.

My parents raised a strong, willing, and brave family. It is time for us to fight... for mom. Our enemy is one of the most feared out there, but together we will prevail. We have recruited a strong team of doctors, who will guide us through the process. They will be our strategists. My dad will be the leader. My mom the strength. My brothers and I will offer support to them in any way we can.

Even though our full battle plan has yet to be determined, our first attack has. On Thursday, Mom will have her first surgery. The cancer will be removed from her colon, and we hope that it will be removed from her liver as well. Since we don't really know how far the cancer has grown on her liver, we can't tell whether it will be fully removed.

Our second attack will be chemical warfare. Chemo. More to come on this later. This is the battle.

THE BATTLE CRY:
Since our frightening discovery, friends, family and well-wishers have come out of the woodworks. I cannot tell you how much this means to us. I appreciate all of the tidbits we are offered from survivors of cancer, families affected by the enemy, or just a simple smile that lets us know that you support our plight. You will be the fuel that keeps our battle going when we get down. This will be the battle cry.

Please, feel free to visit this blog for updates, to give comments, share stories, and/or offer support. I will update the information frequently, to make sure that everyone has first-hand information.

With this battle cry, we will win our battle and the crying will stop.

~Sarah