One Year Ago Today

It has been a wonderful three weeks in Ohio with my family. Although it is currently 5 degrees, I am truly enjoying sitting here quietly by the fire, watching the snow fall, and reflecting on a long and beautiful year. One year ago today was my first entry into my journal Lymph Notes, sitting in the "Pet Waiting Room" anticipating my first pet scan, and writing about my feelings. This is a portion of the entry:

"I am fighting tears right now. I pray not tears of self pity. I would much rather think of them as an enormous self will to have back my energy and spirit. My spirit. It is my spirit I miss. I can't seem to emotionally handle this wallowing of doubt and not knowing. I have recognized for a long time that there is something wrong with my blood. I have not had the ability to exercise, and sometimes even just standing up makes me light headed.

I must prepare myself for the possibility of cancer.

I continue to glance up at the only other patient in the room. She is also journaling. I want to burst into tears and yet she appears to have such a strong will. Poised and dignified, even with the IV dangling from her arm. Maybe she could loan me a bit of spirit. Possibly she thinks I look confident and poised. What are her thoughts? Uh oh. They have just come to take her away. 

Now it is just me and complete total absolute silence. It stirs memories of being in a church confessional waiting for the priest to slide the little door open, or in the womb, waiting for the doctor to slide the little door open. Someone please come help me."

What a difference a year makes. Here I sit once again, one year later, in total silence. I remember that day as if it were today, and yet I am a completely different person because of what 2008 has taught me . . . . 

I have learned that there are a lot of good people in this world. How powerful that last line, "Someone please come help me!" From my closest family members to strangers that I have never met, from old friends that I had forgotten to new friends discovered purely because of my illness . . . there are people who sincerely want to love and offer a new spirit. So many came to help me.

I have learned that quiet moments like this one can be the most powerful moments of our lives.

I learned that I have something to say. I started writing again, in a completely different context, but because writing had always been a passion of mine, it has been rewarding for me to use that passion to satisfy a necessary release of internal energy.

I learned that every individual deals with suffering in his or her own way, and that it is absolutely my right to use laughter as my coping tool.

And most of all, I have my spirit back again, thanks to all of you. A new and beautiful spirit.

Happiest of holidays to everyone.