The following is a guest post written by Heather Von St James. Heather is an inspirational woman, mother, and blogger looking to spread the word about her experience with Mesothelioma. Like most mothers, being diagnosed with cancer or another deadly disease is one of my worst nightmares. Heather's hope is to " turn my pain into purpose and become someone that other people can look to for guidance, inspiration, and hope in situations like my own." For more information, please visit Heather's blog at http://www.mesothelioma.com/blog/authors/heather/
The phrase “it takes a village” gets thrown around a lot. It’s often said during hard times and, in my case, pregnancies. However, after the ordeals I’ve experienced, this phrase is something I’ve truly taken to heart—since without my village, I might not be around to tell this story.
On August 4th, 2005, I gave birth to my wonderful daughter, Lily. With the exception of an emergency C-section during the delivery, the entire process was relatively typical and uneventful. During this time, however, my husband and I were surrounded by our “village:” my parents, his family, and our many friends, all came to wish us, and our new daughter, well. While the entire event was filled with happiness and relief, none of us had any idea what was about to come.
About a month after returning to work, I started to feel odd. I felt increasingly tired, breathless, and had no energy to spare. While these conditions are often attributed to being a new mother, something deep down was telling me it was something else. Worried for my health, I scheduled an appointment with my doctor in an attempt to see what was wrong. After numerous tests, he gave me the devastating results: I had malignant pleural mesothelioma cancer, often caused by asbestos exposure. I had been unknowingly exposed to it as a child and thirty years later, it resulted in life-threatening cancer.
Of course, I was devastated. At first, however, my devastation wasn’t for me: it was for my daughter and husband. The doctor said if I didn’t undergo treatment for mesothelioma, I would most likely be dead within 15 months. The thought of my husband and daughter alone in the world encouraged me to get treatment as soon as possible. As a result, my husband and I flew out to Boston to seek treatment, leaving our daughter behind in South Dakota with her grandparents.
On February 2nd, I underwent an extrapleural pneumenectomy, a type of mesothelioma treatment, which required the removal of my left lung. My inpatient recovery period was 18 days, followed by an additional two months of recovery at the home before I could undergo chemotherapy and radiation. All occurred while still being a new mother.
Despite the hardship, I survived. While part of the credit goes to the treatments that ultimately saved my life and ridded me of my cancer, I probably wouldn’t be here if my “village” hadn’t supported me during my ordeal. During my time in Boston, Lily’s grandparents became her temporary full-time caretakers. My friends and family also came to my assistance as well, trying to help me – and us – in any way the possibly could.
My daughter was slowly learning to eat food and scoot around the house. While the only way I could view these events was through the grainy black and white photos my mother sent us, seeing her progress was what really helped in my fight. While she seldom sees her grandparents now, the bond between them and my daughter is a deep and significant one.
My message to everyone is to embrace all that life throws out you. While cancer and life alike are funny and fickle things, with the bad comes a lot of good. With my horrible ordeal came some magnificent things, which I will always be thankful for.
The phrase “it takes a village” gets thrown around a lot. It’s often said during hard times and, in my case, pregnancies. However, after the ordeals I’ve experienced, this phrase is something I’ve truly taken to heart—since without my village, I might not be around to tell this story.
On August 4th, 2005, I gave birth to my wonderful daughter, Lily. With the exception of an emergency C-section during the delivery, the entire process was relatively typical and uneventful. During this time, however, my husband and I were surrounded by our “village:” my parents, his family, and our many friends, all came to wish us, and our new daughter, well. While the entire event was filled with happiness and relief, none of us had any idea what was about to come.
About a month after returning to work, I started to feel odd. I felt increasingly tired, breathless, and had no energy to spare. While these conditions are often attributed to being a new mother, something deep down was telling me it was something else. Worried for my health, I scheduled an appointment with my doctor in an attempt to see what was wrong. After numerous tests, he gave me the devastating results: I had malignant pleural mesothelioma cancer, often caused by asbestos exposure. I had been unknowingly exposed to it as a child and thirty years later, it resulted in life-threatening cancer.
Of course, I was devastated. At first, however, my devastation wasn’t for me: it was for my daughter and husband. The doctor said if I didn’t undergo treatment for mesothelioma, I would most likely be dead within 15 months. The thought of my husband and daughter alone in the world encouraged me to get treatment as soon as possible. As a result, my husband and I flew out to Boston to seek treatment, leaving our daughter behind in South Dakota with her grandparents.
On February 2nd, I underwent an extrapleural pneumenectomy, a type of mesothelioma treatment, which required the removal of my left lung. My inpatient recovery period was 18 days, followed by an additional two months of recovery at the home before I could undergo chemotherapy and radiation. All occurred while still being a new mother.
Despite the hardship, I survived. While part of the credit goes to the treatments that ultimately saved my life and ridded me of my cancer, I probably wouldn’t be here if my “village” hadn’t supported me during my ordeal. During my time in Boston, Lily’s grandparents became her temporary full-time caretakers. My friends and family also came to my assistance as well, trying to help me – and us – in any way the possibly could.
My daughter was slowly learning to eat food and scoot around the house. While the only way I could view these events was through the grainy black and white photos my mother sent us, seeing her progress was what really helped in my fight. While she seldom sees her grandparents now, the bond between them and my daughter is a deep and significant one.
My message to everyone is to embrace all that life throws out you. While cancer and life alike are funny and fickle things, with the bad comes a lot of good. With my horrible ordeal came some magnificent things, which I will always be thankful for.
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