Having hope in the now is really faith in the future.
BY Ryan Hamner
PUBLISHED June 03, 2019
Ryan Hamner is a four-time survivor of Hodgkin lymphoma, a musician and a writer. In 2011, he wrote and recorded, "Where Hope Lives" for the American Cancer Society and the song for survivors, "Survivors Survive" used in 2015 for #WorldCancerDay. Recently, he published his book, This is Remission: A Four-Time Cancer Survivor's Memories of Treatment, Struggle, and Life, available on Amazon.
"We made it. Let's get you in bed and I'll get you a warm rag," my mom would say after we made it back to our cozy little room at the Ronald McDonald House in Atlanta, Georgia.
"We made it," usually meant that we had managed to drive from the chemo clinic to the Ronald McDonald house without having to pull over on the side of the road so I could get sick. That was in 1985 and I was nine years old.
Back then, I never imagined that cancer treatment, mine anyway, would ever be any different. I was a kid of course, but cancer to me meant surgery, lots of radiation, chemotherapy and being dreadfully sick.
After treatment back then, I'd be loaded up in a wheelchair and pushed out to our car that was sitting in the roundabout. It was often a very interesting contrast. I can remember on several occasions being wheeled out of the clinic into a beautiful sunny day, but I knew what was to come. I knew that the opportunity to enjoy a sunny day would have to be set aside for another day.
"We made it," usually meant that we had managed to drive from the chemo clinic to the Ronald McDonald house without having to pull over on the side of the road so I could get sick. That was in 1985 and I was nine years old.
Back then, I never imagined that cancer treatment, mine anyway, would ever be any different. I was a kid of course, but cancer to me meant surgery, lots of radiation, chemotherapy and being dreadfully sick.
After treatment back then, I'd be loaded up in a wheelchair and pushed out to our car that was sitting in the roundabout. It was often a very interesting contrast. I can remember on several occasions being wheeled out of the clinic into a beautiful sunny day, but I knew what was to come. I knew that the opportunity to enjoy a sunny day would have to be set aside for another day.
No comments:
Post a Comment