LIFE

It is September 18th, 2008.  Today I found out that I am cancer free.  I thanked the doctor, hung up the phone, and burst into tears. I didn't really think it was going to be that big of a deal, but evidently I had an enormous amount of emotion inside that I had hidden somewhere in the Disney dust.

I sent an email to close friends and family, and unexpectedly was overwhelmed with the response. One person after another left me a message while crying.  After a pause to clear her throat, my sister said, "This is a moment I will never forget."

A few other responses:

"My head is spinning from happiness.  Next time, just get me a puppy!"

"I'm so happy, I'm going to buy you a comb."

"Now let's hope you don't get hit by a truck."

(The sicker they are, the more I love them.)

Just when I think I have allowed myself to accept love, I am startled by this reaction from people. I am embarrassed by it.  But I laughed and cried while I read the emails and listened to the messages . . . over and over.  And I will do it again several times tomorrow.

The first week I moved to Los Angeles, I was visiting a friend in his apartment building. As I entered the lobby, there was an elderly woman moving out. Her family was moving her back to the east coast. I chatted with her and she told me, "It's now time for someone else to begin a life in Hollywood."  There I was.  We hugged and never saw each other again, however I have never forgotten the power of that moment.

Last night I had a long conversation on the phone with someone who discovered my blog and contacted me.  He recently received his diagnosis and began chemotherapy today for lymphoma. This came the night before my good news. "It's now time for someone else to begin a life in Hollywood." More than anything else, I assured him that the journey is everything that you make of it. It can be as rewarding as you choose. It can be unpleasant, but life changing. Interestingly, all the things I was told by the woman in the lobby.

Before our conversation last night, I wrote down all the things I wanted to say to him. But there were no words that I could think of to convey the spirit that I wanted to bestow on him. How could I tell him to enjoy the journey? Cherish those peaceful times when you are alone with your thoughts. Or how could I even begin to express the abundance of love he will feel if he allows it? And most of all, there is no appropriate way to say to him, "This can be the most incredible year of your life. Do not miss a moment."

Sean, please know how much I was thinking of you when my doctor called today. It was exactly the time that you were getting your chemo. I hope you can hold in your heart the knowledge that, very soon, you will be getting the same news.

I thank you all. My family. My incredible friends. Those of you who read this blog. You are the ones who fought this cancer.  I was just the one who got to march down the street in the parade.