While we all seem to know what is truly important in life, somehow we often manage to become bogged down in details like “who said what” or “who was supposed to do what”.  These distractions often deter us from our family, priorities and for some, our faith.  Like autism, cancer has a way of refocusing people.  And like my son's autism, it has recently refocused our entire family. 

In lieu of no major symptoms, my otherwise healthy mother was diagnosed with uterine cancer last month.  Like autism, we knew it could happen in families but we still were surprised when cancer came knocking on our door.  I felt that same sickening sense of devastation I did when I found out about my son yet in a different way. 

My Mom is my rock in this chaotic world and has been the greatest Grandmother to both my children.  She is my best friend.  She has seen me during the best of times, like when we we've shopped till we dropped or when I married my husband Keith.  She has seen me at my worst as I struggled to come to terms with my son's autism.  And along the way, she never judged me. 

She has raised money for autism research, gone to IEP meetings, and she been there for the birth of my children.  While she lives a distance away, hardly a day goes by when we don't talk on the phone.  I can't imagine life without her and more importantly, I really need her.  My kids need her.  My whole family needs her.

Being an autism mom, I know support groups are a wealth of knowledge.  In my efforts to find the best doctor, I turned yet again to my autism support group.  They are all such special people and always willing to help.  Someone on the group, who I have never personally met, recommended one of the best surgeons in the area.  Through the grace of God and a wonderful friend, Mom was able to get an appointment.

A week or so later, Mom had surgery to remove the cancer.  Unfortunately, it spread so she needs chemotherapy.  But like with autism, there are silver linings.  Just like we are grateful for the little progress our children make, I was grateful the cancer had not spread to her lymph nodes.  I try to remember all the things that are good and be thankful.

Like autism, uncertainty is palpable. Most times I shove those feelings aside and choose to be positive.  It is hard to explain but I guess there is a healthy amount of denial happening that lets me refuse to accept anything less than a positive outcome.  This may seem unrealistic to some people, but after autism, I have learned that anything is possible when it comes to our kids making progress.  The doctor said that my Mom can survive the cancer.  In my mind, there are no other options.

The possibility of losing my Mom is so painful ,and I just can't even think about it.  I know I will lose my Mom someday.  But I need her now.  My kids need her and my Dad needs her and my whole family needs her.  It sounds almost selfish as I write the words but the feelings are what they are.  Most importantly, my Mom wants to be here, and she is ready for the fight.  Her faith, family and friends will support her when she cannot support herself. 

I know so many families are affected by autism and cancer or some other health crisis.  I never thought there would be something as bad as autism but I was wrong.  I guess I always knew that intellectually, but it is hard to remember sometimes when you are in the throws of life with autism.  And just like autism, you sometimes don't notice cancer until it personally touches your family.  When it does, you are connected to another group of families by another common thread – this time cancer.

I learned early in my journey with autism that even when I was having an issue with my son, there was always someone else who had a problem that was worse than mine.  That is when I started feeling lucky.  Lucky to have my son, autism or no autism.

And same with my Mom's cancer.  We are lucky she has a great doctor.  We are lucky that we have each other to lean on during this time.  And I feel lucky to be reminded once again about what is really important in life.  Sure, we could have gone with out the cancer to make us pay attention, but we are paying attention now. 

In closing, I want to offer my prayers and thoughts to all of our families with autism and with cancer and with whatever other challenge your family is facing today.  As I think of my challenges tonight, I am reminded of those silver linings and grateful that I am paying attention to what is important. 

p.s. - If my mom reads this tonight, I want her to know how much I love her and how much she is needed in this world.