I got inked

 I got inked.

That’s right, folks. I did it. I finally got a tattoo. Been wanting to do this for 15 years, but I was never clear on the image I needed; I just knew I wanted some kind of positive daily reminder.

Here it is. Designed by yours truly.

Symbolisms:

The sun: Life source, hope, strength, resilience

Awareness ribbon: everything I’ve been through - loss, sickness,  Marcy’s cancer, Quincy’s cancer, treatments, depression, anxiety, denial, acceptance, bargaining, turmoil, fear, enlightenment, growth, perseverance, anger

The dot inside the ribbon is the Greek Evil Eye. Our first attempt to travel to Greece was put on hold because of Quincy’s 1st relapse. We did make it to Greece this past summer, just before his 2nd relapse. I have always identified with the Evil Eye and believe in its symbolism as a way to ward off fear.

The ribbon also looks like a fish, which is a symbol of Reece and Quincy. When Andrew and I fell in love, we created a symbol that reflects who we are together - the sun over the waves. It’s almost like a yin and yang,  the warm sun and cool waters. When the boys were born, we added two fish swimming in the water. 

This tattoo is a daily reminder to pray, meditate, breathe, manifest, and give thanks. 

To be proud of who I have become

I am a badass, I am strong, brave, and in control of what I can control. 

I needed to do this. I have been feeling so much emotional and mental pain; I needed to feel some physical pain to balance it out. 

It’s my war paint, my reminder to keep believing and keep trying to be the best person/mama I can be (for my own sake and for my family’s sake). 

This is my daily reminder always to be grateful and to honor and accept who I am and what I have had to overcome. For years, I have tried to pretend that none of this had ever happened. I did not want to be a part of anything that connected me to that trauma - No Leukemia & Lymphoma Society events, no San Diego Blood Bank campaigns… No, thank you.  But since his recent relapse, I realized that there is no escaping the reality that I have battle wounds, that I have been through severe trauma, and that I am, in fact, a cancer mom. Whether or not Quincy is in active battle, I am a cancer mom, and that’s ok. Everyone’s gotta be someone or have something to face, and this is my “thing” that I have come to accept and honor. I did this for Quincy, I did this for myself.

I am NOT a victim, I am a warrior. 

Thank you, Josh, at 454 Tattoo in Leucadia!
New life friend for sure!

Keep Believing

That’s all I can do, just keep believing that Quincy will live a long, happy, healthy life until he’s old and gray. I have to be THAT specific with my manifestation because last time he had Leukemia, I manifested him at 10 years old and leveling up to the 5th grade. Well, shit, he got to age 10 and he made it to the 5th grade, and damnit, he got AML (Leukemia) again. I should have pushed my manifestation out to when he’s old and grey and having lived his best life ever. So, is it MY fault he relapsed again? Obviously, the universe listens when I ask for things, so this time, I will keep believing that he will survive, and I will be way more specific about his timeline when I manifest. 

“Quincy will get through this stem cell transplant easily and successfully. This will be the CURE for him, and he will live a long, happy, healthy life until he is old and grey”. 

This is my manifestation. These are the words I say every day, multiple times. 

Let's rewind a bit.

Preschool - Quincy was sick and undiagnosed for 9 months.

Kindergarten - Diagnosed with AML Leukemia. Underwent 5 rounds of chemo, which took about 6 months in the hospital. Lots of side effects and related illnesses, but he rang the victory bell and was cancer-free for 8 months.

First Grade - He relapsed with AML. Did 2 rounds of chemo and a bone marrow transplant. Little bro, Reece, was his donor.  A perfect match. He rang the victory bell and was cancer-free for 3 years.

Fifth Grade - 2 weeks into the new school year, and, crap, he relapsed again with AML.  He did 2 rounds of a new and innovative clinical trial of chemo and immunotherapy, which put him into remission. Currently, we are in the transplant unit preparing for another transplant. This time, his Dad, Andrew, is the stem cell donor.  I was also a match, but they chose Andrew. 

So here we are, doing this again. I’m scared shitless. No matter how much I believe he will survive this, I am still scared out of my mind. How can I not be? 

This is how I feel: I’m angry. I feel betrayed. I am annoyed and inconvenienced. I feel powerless. I look up at the sky, and I feel disappointed and let down. I cannot hold on to any reasons as to why this is happening to make myself feel better. I have not been able to justify anything this time.  During his last relapse, I firmly believed that he needed his brother's bone marrow to cure him. I thought I had it all figured out.  NOW, I don’t know WHAT to believe….(read this sarcastically with an edge of “fuck you”)  “Oh, wait, he didn’t need his brother’s bone marrow… he needed his DAD’s stem cells.. oh, ok! Yeah, that makes perfect sense.”… I have screamed so loud in anger that I believe I may have caused an earthquake somewhere.

What have I learned after this THIRD diagnosis? That I have no answers, no justifications, I have no control over Mother Nature, and that this certainly is not “God’s plan”… God does not plan anything. I believe we are put into this crazy-hard human experience to find Joy and Love in the middle of this shitstorm of chaos.  

I am a human having a human experience. The only real power I have is how I choose to process this challenging circumstance.  Do I have the strength to decide to grow from this as if I’m being “planted” or am I going to allow myself to be suffocated and “buried” under this pile of shit…. If you know me, then you know the answer…