Thank you, God!

HEALTH UPDATE: I’m itchy. It’s always hard to know where my symptoms are coming from. Treatment 4? Today. The beat goes on.

Ramblings…

I should be used to this by now. Used to this place. Used to the sick people and their brave companions that face this hell with their person. Used to constantly wondering how long this stable phase will last. For some reason I have that pit of doom in my throat. The one that is both physical and emotional. I can feel that lump! I want to jump on my bed, face down into my pillow, and cry it out. Bawl it out! Bend the knee and slam my foot into my comforter. Kick that foot on that comforter like I’m releasing every particle of dust trapped inside. I remember doing this as a child. It was my way to let out frustrations and emotions. I’m not able to do it now as I’m in the waiting room. I’m in line to see my beautiful oncologist. She is beautiful. I think I’ve only seen her unmasked once, that dreaded day when she told me of my dire prognosis. I’ve learned since then, that her beauty is more than skin deep. She has dedicated so much of herself to saving people like me. A warrior saving warriors.

I have been struggling in surviver purgatory. What to do. What happens next? Live life!! Don’t get cocky. It could be taken away. Quickly. In recent months I’ve found peace in decisions I’m making about my future. I’m excited to take work seriously again. Focus on reality. Move on from what has happened. Call me crazy but these visits set me back. Too soon to tell, but I think it might just be a notch or two. I will recover quickly, yet it’s real. Next time I’ll prepare myself. Install into my self warning system: you will be experiencing an expected emotional setback upon arrival and participation in your life saving tests, doctor visit and infusion. Accept this. Rejoice that this is an option for you. It’s okay to not be okay.

I will breath deeply and remind myself of the miraculous gift I’ve been given. Thank you, God.