Well, there’s nothing like being diagnosed with Stage IV Glioblastoma after surviving a car crash beyond comprehension (without a scratch, mind you) to shake up your life a bit.
There’s also nothing quite like it to make you appreciate your life.
And I do. Knowing full well how this might sound coming from someone who just had brain surgery (eye roll), I have to tell you a secret: I feel really, really lucky.
Do you know why?
Because I got this amazing gift. Actually I’d already had it I just didn’t know it. Want to know what it is? I got to know something miraculous, beautiful and quite literally breathtaking:
I AM LOVED
Holy Shnikes (emphasis on HOLY) I am loved. And the funny thing is, I always was. I just didn’t see it. It is certainly not something I earned. I could never be worthy of this outpouring of love. I could never quite demonstrate how humbly grateful I feel. I could certainly never pay it back, in any lifetime.
But that’s not the point. Because it’s not about me. It’s about you.
YOU ARE LOVE.
Yes, that sounds cheesy, but I get a little leeway right now. And it’s true. I know stuff, ok?
You always were. The signs were everywhere. I just got so distracted in my own mundane, my own mini-stresses, my own self-criticisms and didn’t see it. But you’ve been demonstrating it day after day in little in big ways all along. Not just to me but to everyone. And now I see it. I see you.
You are my children’s village, safe-keepers, meal-makers, carpoolers, coaches, huggers and friends. You are my puppy playdates and poop-scoopers and walkers. You are my green-smoothie and Zen salad and nutmilk latte drop-offs. You are my snow shovelers. My laundry folders. You are my tea makers, my hand holders, my crying shoulders. You are my make me laugh til my stomach hurts with perfectly timed bad words. You are my prayer shawl knitters and prayers. You are my listeners. My mantra sharers. You are my essential oil bottlers and bone broth brewers. You are my card senders and cozy gift givers. You are my inspirational playlist makers and yoga dedicators. You are my distractors with funny stories. You are my text messages and survival stories and inspirational videos. You are my drivers. My strong arms to lean on and sometimes carry me. You are my family, who dropped everything to come when I needed you...and those who are coming for round two. You are those who hold the fort while mom was away. You are my forever friends and neighbors. You are the love of my life. You are my team of fighters.
You are my tribe. You are my treasured gifts. You are what life is about.
Many of you know my mom died of a brain tumor. She was diagnosed at just 50 years old. Having gone through that heart-wrenching time with her, my initial thought was to try to shield my loved ones from this. I wanted to just go away, spare anyone the pain that I faced back then. But that’s not what my heart is telling me now. That’s not my job.
I didn’t choose this. I didn’t want this for me. For my family. Or even for you. It’s hard. But I’m going to fight with everything I’ve got. And I’m going to gracefully accept the presence and love of anyone who steps in and out of my life while I’m here. I used to think being strong meant being independent. Self-sufficient. In control. Ha! The real tough stuff is being vulnerable. But, man, it's worth it.
Thank you for being part of my journey. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for being uniquely, perfectly, wonderfully YOU.
and I can only sort of joke about that now that it’s over.
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Each time I think I’ll face this day with more grace. More peace.
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But it’s really fucking hard.
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Maybe it’s because life keeps getting better. I’d have more to lose. As Dr T says, I “still have all my privileges “ so let’s not mess that up.
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He also said definitively that continuing to take my anti-seizure meds and discontinuing immune therapy and vaccines for now are the best way for me to ensure I keep my privileges.
.
Like driving. Seeing all my kids’ events when they start up again.
.
Like working. Side by side with my partner for life.
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