Cherry pickin'

Last week we went cherry picking.  In the five years since Will and I have been back in the States, we have done this nearly every summer.  At least two of those years the picking, pitting, and freezing were done the day before leaving on a vacation.  Anya has quickly joined in with Will's enthusiasm for this event.  This year she picked and pitted a large portion of the cherries.  Reese came along for the event, although not with the same excitement as the rest of us.  She did pick a few, then she went straight for the bucket to eat them, sat down and watched, and finally declared, "I'm done here.  Home," before heading straight for the car.

One year ago we did not pick any cherries.  As far as I can remember, we didn't even consider picking cherries.  A lot of the summer is a blur to me, and thinking about it now I can't really imagine how we got through it.  I know it wasn't all difficult and that we still had some great times.  I know that every day brought new unknowns.  I know that we just lived moment to moment and used all our strength to put that next foot down in front of the other.

I recently learned of a child with Retinoblastoma who had a relapse after three years of being stable.  The family had an emergency trip to Philadelphia and now he is due to start another six rounds of chemotherapy.  My thoughts have been with them daily.  Having been through what we have gone through with Anya, I know that we can all do it again if need be.  But I really don't want to.

Anya is only three months out from hearing the news that she did not need further treatment.  She is still in a tenuous position, yet we have relaxed.  Will and I both agree that we can't put our guards down.  I still think of cancer every single day, but at least it isn't every other minute.  She will be monitored closely until sometime around eight years old.  I cling to the words that the ophthalmologist who diagnosed her told us on the day of her diagnosis:  "One day, she will outgrow the ability to grow new tumors."