Defining a Decade: The Unexpected Climb

In January, I began a series of reflective blogs, looking back on 2015, my breakthrough year as a published author. My first installment highlighted my debates about traditional publishing versus self-publishing and my desire to have a debut novel published at my old age of 25.

Back then, a hot hit on the radio was Miley Cyrus’s “The Climb”. Don’t get me wrong, I liked the song. What I didn’t appreciate, however, was the fact that, more times than not, I’d find a rejection response in my inbox hours after I heard it. I don’t believe in omens or the like, but to this day, the song is synonymous with professional pitfalls for me!

I don’t associate any particular tune with the other challenge of that year, but that, too, was a climb. In February, my incredible mom wore so many hats, like most moms do. She was assisting a dear family friend who was recovering from cancer, along with caring for several other relatives…on top of her responsibilities of caregiving for me. In fact, the day of her routine check-up, she made an early appointment so she could squeeze in everyone’s needs.

To our shock, that routine exam led to her acquiring another hat: cancer patient. It’s such a cliché, but honestly, nothing prepares you for the gutting diagnosis. Making it worse—at least, in our case—is the slow drip of tests and biopsies, the agonizing wait time for results, and through it all, that hopeful inner voice anxious to hear it was a fluke. Between the doctor’s vacation and ours—which was a nice albeit worry-filled reprieve—we had to wait almost two months for the dreaded confirmation.

All this said, my mom was fortunate. In its early stage, the tumor was small, affording us the chance to consider our options. She chose to try an alternative treatment first but underwent surgery and radiation a few months later. Those months were naturally difficult and personal, and as a family, we decided to keep the diagnosis and our choices relatively private.

I learned a lot during that time. Before my family experienced it, cancer struck several friends over the years, and I’d always assumed I’d know what to do if that were ever me. This taught me, though, that even when you find yourself there, you might not know what you’re going to do. No two people are the same, and no two cases are the same. Thus, the best way to support someone is with loving respect, rather than focusing on what you deem a better solution.

I also learned my mom played a central role in giving me my inner strength. She handled the challenges before her with toughness and resiliency. She never complained, even though she gave up her beloved soda pop and sugar! More than that, she remained generous with her time and efforts, continuing to care for others the same way she did before her diagnosis.

I’ve faced countless frustrations throughout my lifetime of being disabled. This experience revealed the absolute worst one: my inability to repay the care measured out to me. My mom has always devoted her all to our family and many times sacrificed her own comfort and pleasure in our behalf. Of course, my Cerebral Palsy necessitated that she did even more for my benefit, and I’ve never taken that for granted.

In her time of need, though, I couldn’t pick up more chores to lighten her load or do anything else to help. None of that was lost on me. We did make adaptations with her care of me to keep her safe, but that was the extent of what I could perform. I typically like to insert some upside or life lesson when discussing challenges like these, but in this case, I don’t have any. All I can say is that even though helping someone through a sickness isn’t easy, don’t overlook the gift it is to be able to do so.

In the end, Mom came out of the summer cancer-free and has remained that way for almost a decade now! The trial put so many things in perspective, showing what’s important and what isn’t. Through those first few weeks as we awaited the test results, my publishing goals took a backseat, no longer mattering as much as they did shortly beforehand.

The morning of her appointment to learn the findings of the initial biopsy, though, I saw a notice about a small publisher of children’s books seeking to expand their adult catalog. With the imprint called Blue Boot Books, it appealed to the shoeaholic in me. To preoccupy my mind from the afternoon appointment ahead, I gave it a shot and submitted a query. By the time we made it home, the editor-in-chief had emailed me a request for more material.

Because of past letdowns and my fragile mindset, I endeavored not to let my hopes soar too high. Still, the smidgeon of hope I let creep into my heart carried me through this trying time.

And oddly enough, “The Climb,” stayed off the radio!

Up Next>

Defining a Decade: The Big Splash~Coming in May

<Previously

Defining a Decade: The Path to Publication

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