Noticing the good parts of my day showed the all-of-life-is-black part of me it was wrong. As I kept up the practice, the black lake slowly receded, shrank to where I could easily see it was just a part of life - not all of it; not at all.
I am grateful Kate has been able to apply the lessons she learned in cancer round one to cancer round two. I am grateful she is in a time place of life where she can afford to step back and take care of herself; to help her body to heal as best it can.
She has finished 12 of the 25 scheduled rounds of radiation. (Almost halfway there! Go, Kate!) She tells me she ends each session feeling like someone punched her in the sore spot on her chest; the tissue in the entire area tightens up. She then goes home and spends the next several hours stretching and rolling and repeating until she's regained her range of motion. She then does the whole thing again the next day. (Stretching the scar tissue like this, as it forms, means she will hopefully come out the other end of this wringer still able to breathe freely; able to move her shoulder. Fingers crossed, candles lit.)
I am grateful morning comes. Every day. So far, at least. Morning comes and I get another chance to have a good day.
I am grateful Sylvester is here with me. Over the past few years, I've grown to like our 20 minute, morning walk and sniff session. His presence assures I get up and at 'em, then outside to greet the day. Every day. Like it or not. (It's good for me.)
As winter's cold settles in, I am grateful for a reliable furnace. For the delivery of electricity and gas I can (usually) take for granted. I don't have to wonder if today is an electricity-on day, because barring a big storm, all the days are.
I am grateful for you - the You who is reading my words, bringing them to life. Your presence lets me know I'm not alone - not in my struggles, not in my joys. I feel seen. I feel heard. Since Covid, I know how important these things are.
Happy Thanksgiving!
No comments:
Post a Comment