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The Foremost Good Fortune

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Four years ago my husband, Tony, and I moved to Beijing, China with our two young boys. It was a great life adventure?we planned to travel the Chinese countryside on trains, planes, rickshaws and ancient horses. And we did. But halfway through our time in China, I found out I had breast cancer there. After one surgery in Beijing, we left China for a long summer of cancer treatment back in the States.

After my radiation was finished, Tony and I made the decision to return to China for another year?it was a tricky choice because my support system was at home in the States, comprised of an inspiring soccer team of amazing doctors and friends who?d helped our family in so many different ways. But we wanted to finish our China story on our terms, and not let cancer dictate our leave taking.

And so we did return and I wrote a book about our being there. It?s a memoir about having cancer in China and about parenting on any continent. In writing this book, I came to see that words were what got me up in the morning. Maybe in the end, words are something we can all carry with us?a story of our life that lives on. If that?s true, then I would like my story to be about hope. It will also have the word disease in it, but that won?t be my whole story.

It?s time to go pick the boys up from their school in downtown Beijing?it?s their first day back after the summer that has been our circus of cancer treatments in the States. When I get there, Thorne and Aidan are playing soccer with their friends out on the field. Everyone says how good I look. One mother I know from a cooking class asks me are you okay? I?ve already decided when people ask me this and tilt their head at a certain angle, what they?re really saying is Did you beat the cancer?

I don?t blame anyone in China for not mouthing the word cancer out loud. No one on this soccer field knows me well. I nod my head yes. I say, yeah, thanks, I?m okay, and they all go back to watching the game, and I stand there wondering why it feels like a train has just run over me. And hey?I?m done with the treatment. I should be doing cartwheels. Right? So why aren?t I floating on air?

On Saturday morning I decide the answer is to pack up the van and head to the Great Wall. We need to get out of the city and hike on top of something bigger than us?a wall that took millions of people thousands of years to build, one that stretches across China four thousand miles. When we get to the town of Mutianyu, it?s still morning, and we rent an old house for the night from a man in the village. The town is a cluster of one hundred or so squat brick homes built along the mountainside.

It?s good to be out of the city. Aidan and Thorne climb a Persimmon Tree and holler down at us. Tony takes pictures of the boys hanging from their knees and then cuts open a persimmon with his jackknife to see the pale meat. The entrance to the Wall is a twenty-minute hike up the mountain from the house. The boys wear Red Sox hats and carry backpacks with water bottles. Tony keeps the black Nikon around his neck. At the top of the Wall, the sky is blue and I can see a series of dark green mountain peaks that stretch in either direction for miles. A uniformed guard asks if he can have his picture taken with Thorne because of his straw-colored hair.

?Aidan,? I say. ?Lean in towards your brother.? Then I snap the picture of both boys together looking out over the edge of the world. It?s still difficult on some days to believe cancer infiltrated our family planetary system?our sun and moon and stars. But each of us is different for that now. We?ve survived something together. Tony takes a sip of water and tells the boys that thousands of Mongols used to attack the Wall on horses. ?They?d gallop to the edge,? he says, ?and then the Chinese guards would push them back with swords and bows and arrows.? Aidan and Thorne love this part.

What I?m trying to do here on this Wall is get some traction on the cancer. I pull my water bottle from my backpack. My body still sometimes feels like a molecular-cellular mystery to me. I?m beginning to see that you can beat cancer back with surgeries and drugs. You beat with a stick if you have one. You trick it. Because you never want cancer to surprise you like it did the first time. We?ve made it to the other side. The four of us are standing on the Great Wall to prove it.

Blog by Susan Conley

  • Renee

    What a journey. Thank you for sharing your story Susan.

  • Toni

    What a story. Very inspiring. Thank you

  • http://www.squidoo.com/my-mom-is-a-cancer-survivor Elena

    My mom has cancer and I am struggling to help her with the treatment. I think my biggest wish is to offer her a trip, but I have a tight budget now…..

  • Melissa

    I can’t help but share what a similar path we are on. My husband battled stage 3 colon cancer with 1 year twin boys and finding out I was pregnant the night before chemo/radiation and after two years of treatment, three surgeries and all clear on one round of scans!, we too have picked up our family and moved across the world…to Hong Kong. I can echo so much of wrote in the excert above and feel so blessed to spread our wings and live.

  • Robyn

    Thank you Susan, you write well of what you have experienced and as a fellow survivor (recurrent breast cancer mets to bones and a journey God still has me on) I can relate to many things you speak of. I’m thankful to share ‘this side of the wall’ with you for such a time as this and encourage you to keep telling your story!