Growing up, my parents were strict about school. We couldn’t play outside until our homework and assignments were done. Taking after my big sis, I strived for straight A’s and it was rare for a B to show up on my report card. It eventually became second nature and studying to maintain my average was the norm.
When I was in 7th grade, I took regents Earth Science. In NY, regents is a big deal. It’s a a level higher than your high school diploma because you have to take regents level classes. If I remember correctly, you had to take 3 regents classes to earn your degree. My first attempt at this, because I did not want to take chemistry as a senior, was Earth Science. I had never encountered such a challenging class. No matter how much I tried, I was barely passing. One of the only lessons I retained was also a Saturday Schoolhouse Rocks special the week before so I was able to learn it. This class was the first time I learned that anything above 65 was a passing grade.
I prayed a lot about that regents test. I knew it would be the hardest yet and that I didn’t know everything that would be on it. I studied hard and did the very best that I could. I was terrified that I would fail. I had never failed a class before. I needed a miracle to pass this test.
When our science teacher came in the following morning to give our grades, I saw the faces of each person after he called them up. I could tell who was genuinely concerned and who wasn’t. My name was called and I walked up the aisle with sweaty palms. I looked at the teacher and he moved his paper down to show me my grade. 67. I had passed by two points. I felt the air leave my lungs finally and walked back to my desk. I was both terrified that I had earned a 67 and ecstatic that I had passed this class, though barely. My miracle had happened.
From that point forward, I didn’t take school or my grades for granted. I was very conscious of my efforts, my studying and my grades throughout the year. I didn’t want to think about failing ever again.
My PS called this morning with my biopsy results. As expected, the nodules on my skin are cancer. I exhaled and told my doctor that he promised he would only call with good results and laughed. I think he was more upset about the results than me. Cancer sucks but I knew that the likelihood that it wasn’t cancer was minimal.
When my RO called me Wednesday morning to ensure I received my scan results, I mentioned that I was trying not to get my hopes up but that it was hard not to. Her response was, “I know. But regardless of the results, we have a treatment option locally and a visit to MD Anderson. With these scan results, I would consider this optimistic.” It made my heart smile.
She is right. We will continue on this path and find a treatment option that works well for me…one that will eliminate this disease so I can continue to live.
Thank you all for the continued love and support that you show my family. Your prayers are worth their weight in gold and I am eternally grateful for every single one of them. 💚