Remembering a Tough Stretch
Today I am grateful for the quiet peace I found on my early morning run and the lessons I learn when my mind and heart are open.
Thinking of Mary Jo today as she awaits the results of yesterday's scan. Such waiting is so hard in these and many circumstances. None of us can make it easier for the other, besides offering distractions and support.
Ten years ago on my birthday I wrote a poem titled "Happy F’in Birthday." It summed up the bundle of fear, nerves, and impatience I was at that time. The curve ball of cancer had thrown me a strike.
I was in the midst of one of the toughest stretches of my life—the 6 weeks between a confirmed diagnosis of breast cancer on May 29 and the first surgery to address it on July 17.
There were appointments with a surgeon and oncologist. There was a PET/CT scan and genetic testing. There was waiting, wondering, research, many conversations, and a truckload of fear of the unknown. Had the cancer spread? Is it a good idea to run when you know you have cancer in your body? Will I wake up from this surgery, my first ever?
The medical professionals and others were encouraging. The information we already had didn't indicate the likelihood that the cancer had spread. Go ahead and run. It won't "shake loose" any cancer cells. People go under anesthesia every day. You'll be okay.
Yeah, but . . . I might be one of those exceptions. And do we really know what cancer cells can and can't do? Fear came in waves, sometimes inundating me, during those weeks. I tried to keep busy and do normal life things, but inevitably the fear and questions would return.
I had plenty of support and much love lifting me up, then and now. I stepped up my efforts to write, practice gratitude, and seek faith. There is only one way through these tough stretches. There aren't shortcuts, rather a day at a time, a moment at a time.
There are some clarifying lessons that can only be learned in the tough stretches of life. They don't come easily, but they often stay long and lasting.
Thinking of Mary Jo today as she awaits the results of yesterday's scan. Such waiting is so hard in these and many circumstances. None of us can make it easier for the other, besides offering distractions and support.
Ten years ago on my birthday I wrote a poem titled "Happy F’in Birthday." It summed up the bundle of fear, nerves, and impatience I was at that time. The curve ball of cancer had thrown me a strike.
I was in the midst of one of the toughest stretches of my life—the 6 weeks between a confirmed diagnosis of breast cancer on May 29 and the first surgery to address it on July 17.
There were appointments with a surgeon and oncologist. There was a PET/CT scan and genetic testing. There was waiting, wondering, research, many conversations, and a truckload of fear of the unknown. Had the cancer spread? Is it a good idea to run when you know you have cancer in your body? Will I wake up from this surgery, my first ever?
The medical professionals and others were encouraging. The information we already had didn't indicate the likelihood that the cancer had spread. Go ahead and run. It won't "shake loose" any cancer cells. People go under anesthesia every day. You'll be okay.
Yeah, but . . . I might be one of those exceptions. And do we really know what cancer cells can and can't do? Fear came in waves, sometimes inundating me, during those weeks. I tried to keep busy and do normal life things, but inevitably the fear and questions would return.
I had plenty of support and much love lifting me up, then and now. I stepped up my efforts to write, practice gratitude, and seek faith. There is only one way through these tough stretches. There aren't shortcuts, rather a day at a time, a moment at a time.
There are some clarifying lessons that can only be learned in the tough stretches of life. They don't come easily, but they often stay long and lasting.
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