5 Year Survival Rates

Ok I survived the first week of High School. Whew - only 5 years to go! Hmmm what a coincidence, five year survival rates apply to parenting a teenager too. I digress. After the first day, I arrived home to find my daughter and two of her friends sprawled over the family room, stuffing their faces (because that is what teenagers do). I eagerly asked, "So? How was the first day?"

My daughter casually stated, "It was ok". Her girlfriend then piped up with, "It was overwhelming, the school is so big, I kept getting lost, I didn't know where anything was, there are so many kids, I was late for pictures...." (all spoken at a light speed). Arden looked over at her and just calmly said, "it wasn't that bad". I tell you - my girl sure knows how to roll with change.

I remember when I went through my mastectomy. Arden, then 5, took everything in. She touched the tubes that attached to my drains, the bandages that covered the surgery site. I told her that the doctors took the sick part of me away and that they were going to give me a medicine that was going to kill any bad cells that they may have missed. She asked me if I was going to die.

Until that point I did not even think of that outcome, but then also realized that the only thing she knew about cancer was related to Terry Fox and the run. She knew that Terry did not make it. I responded with, "we will all die someday. I am not planning on dieing soon and the medicine the doctors are going to give me will make me seem sicker, but they are trying to make sure I get over this cancer".

We talked about what was going to happen to me - like the fact that I would loose my hair. Like the first day of high school - she just rolled with the information by announcing that she would be happy to paint my head when my hair fell out.

We will survive high school together, like we survived breast cancer together already.