So, this is what it feels like. The uneasy stillness that sets in following treatment. The waiting starts all over again, but this time it's not over wondering exactly what ails me. That is behind me.
I feel like my life is on hold. Apprehensive to plan ahead with any certainty until follow-up tests March 2nd. Nervous about the rectal exam tomorrow. Trying to shut out the 'what if's' that pop into my head at random times and instead embrace the here and now.
Spinning my wheels? Spinning my wheels.
I am feeling powerfully connected to my paternal grandmother, Faye Kemp Holcomb, who died in her early 40's of breast cancer and thinking so much of my daddy, Jim, who left this earth in '93 following a brief battle with lung cancer. Touching old photographs, I feel that there is a common thread that interlaces our spirits, pulling us so tightly together at times it leaves me breathless.
They know my fear for they have lived it. And my determination to beat this disease has been fueled by their destinies.
So well said, as to both of those wonderful people.
ReplyDeleteDavid, do you have any photographs of our grandmother, Faye? I have only one ~ a wallet size portrait. Beautiful.
ReplyDeleteAngela,
ReplyDeleteI love your sense of humor and faith. Cancer is very ugly and non discriminatory. I like your peach fuzz. I am glad you are well. My name is David and my website is bradleydallasnorth.net. I am a stage 4 Melanoma and like you, giving up wasn't an option...
God has blessed you and your strentgh will surely help other's... I am on FB also, if you are interested. david sumrell.
Infectious Disease and HIV specialists bringing to Orlando innovative care in the treatment of viral infections, including Chronic Viral Hepatitis B, Anal Dysplasia Screening
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