I'll never forget New Year's Eve December 31, 2009. I was working until 4:30 that day. Sarah and I had our traditional plans of ringing in the new year the way we had for nearly a decade -- dinner and drinks in the comforts of our own home. I skipped hitting the pub the way I would always closeout every month with my co-workers in lieu of getting started early on our romantic dinner in.
And thats when I caught a lasting image that has been forever been engrained on my mind: Sarah standing in the doorway, tears welling up in her eyes. She told me she had found a lump on her breast. I was speechless.
"How could this happen?" I thought "Why us?'
We decided not to ignore it (something another couple might do) but we also had it set that it would be nothing. That it was something else. It couldn't be cancer. That's the type of shit that happens to other people. We had the mindset that everything would be fine. She'd get it checked out and then we could go about our normal lives. Happily every after, right?
Wrong.
The close of 2009 the new year held so much promise. Like all New Year's Eves we were on the cusp of great things. Then a little over two weeks into 2010 and we were dealt the chilling confirmation. Sarah had cancer.
I had so many emotions swirling through me: fear, anger, sadness, frustration. I was terrified. I felt helpless. But I also had this overwhelming sense of hope. Part of that hope came from a great deal of support we got from friends, but a vast majority of that hope came right from Sarah.
She never took a "woe is me" attitude towards our situation. She faced it head on with a fire in her belly and the heart of a champion. Sarah never buckled under the pressure. To say she is an inspiration would be a grave injustice, the girl is much more than that.
When things were at their most dire, Sarah still had an optimistic attitude. I remember one summer night in 2010, she had just finished a 12-day stint in the hospital where she ran a high fever, had a blood clot and was subjected to a battery of tests, the type of stuff that would make the strongest of the strong give up hope. But not Sarah. I remember one night we were at hope talking and she said to me, 2011 is going to be our year. She looked at me and give me this smile that was part innocent, part mischievous and all parts Beanz.
2010 we had our world rocked. 2011 we took back control. Two years, two stark contrasts. One was the lowest of all lows. The next was a meteoric rise to the top, an express elevator to happiness. We learned some valuable lessons over the past two years.
In 2010 we learned who are friends are and who are friends aren't. We learned that material things don't mean shit in the grand scheme of things. We learned about hope and survival and getting through the hard times. And believe me, 2010 has about as tough as it gets.
In 2011 we had so many positive things happen: we moved into a new home, Sarah got a new job, we got a puppy (a 34-pound spitfire named LeMonde who is growing every day) and best of all...SARAH IS CANCER FREE!
I couldn't script a more productive and happy 2011.
So, as we close out one of the happiest years of our lives, we turn the page on what is going to be another happy (and more importantly) HEALTHY new year.
Be safe. Be happy. BE RELENTLESS.
