Resilient

It's been awhile since posting to the VIVSTRONG blog. On the eve of Viv's 2nd birthday, I wanted to share some thoughts and brief stories about the most "RESILIENT" person I know.

Before I get started rambling, I would like to add context to the word "Resilience". The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines it as follows:

I bring up this word because it has been mentioned to me so many times throughout Viv's battle with AML and her transplant. Doctors, nurses and wiser people than me have constantly assured us of the resilient nature of children. Sometimes, words are just words. Words can be used to describe emotions, feelings or experiences and while they contain context, they don't always sink in. At least not immediately.

Looking back at the photos, the memories created (good and bad), and living each day with Viv at our sides - I now have a deeper understanding and appreciation for the word. She truly is resilient.

Physically she went through hell and to some degree - still continues to go through physical hardships and challenges. If her first two stomach surgeries weren't enough - she'll need a third surgery soon to reverse her ostomy. It's a welcoming surgery, no doubt - but it's still a surgical operation that carries risk and requires treatment and physical therapy. She bounced back from the first two. She'll bounce back from this one, too. Resilient.

After going into septic shock, just 7 days into her first round of chemo, we watched her battle for her life for nearly 48 hours before doctors were able to put her into a restful state and allow medicine to do its job. She's here today as a result. Resilient.

After 2 more rounds of chemo (including the chemo leading up to her transplant) she didn't slow down. In fact, she sped up. Resilient.

After she received a donor's bone marrow and successfully engrafting - she kept going. Resilient.

After being discharged from a hospital where she spent 5 months of her young life, she integrated herself back into our home quicker and more seamless than we ever thought possible. Resilient.

After 2 shots per day, dozens of syringes of medication pushed through her nasogastric intubation (NG) tube each day, being hooked up to an IV bag for nutritional purposes for 12+ hours each day, and a stoma pouch that leaks more than it collects because she's an active and curious 2-year-old. She pushes on and doesn't let it bother her. Resilient. 

More than anything, when I see her or look at photos of her while I'm not with her I see nothing but smiles. If I were in her position I can't guarantee I would be so happy. But we're not talking about me... we're talking about my daughter. And she's fucking RESILIENT.

As we prepare to celebrate Viv's 2nd birthday, I'm reminded of how thankful we are for her. But also for everyone who is reading this post. You've given us so much more than you can ever imagine. Early on I really didn't know what it was to accept help or even words of encouragement. Because after all, they're just words, right? But going through what we've gone through - we now have context and a deeper understanding. Thank you to everyone. Viv is doing better than we hoped. If you notice that Annie and I are a little blue in the face it's because we'll be holding our breath for the rest of our lives hoping and praying the cancer never returns. But I promise we'll cherish each and every day that is in front of us.

Please wish my resilient daughter, Vivian Rose Zaratsian, a Happy 2nd Birthday!

I love you, Viv. Stay resilient.

#VIVSTRONG