eight

it is midnight on the east coast, which makes it october 24.  eight years ago i was diagnosed with stage IIIa lung cancer.  i wasn't sure what lay ahead, how long i'd have, what i would be able to do, what i wouldn't.  i never really thought i'd make it eight years, let alone eight very full ones.  my mindset since the beginning has been, and continues to be, listen to the doctors, listen to my body, don't read too much on the internet, spend time with my family, spend time with my friends, work hard, and visit places that inspire and rejuvenate both my soul and my body.  these were my mile markers prior to diagnosis and they have served me well over the years.

it seems a lifetime ago and yesterday all at once.  it is not anything anyone can train for, living with cancer. even after eight years the feeling is a difficult one to describe.  the one thing that comes to mind is carrying a backpack loaded for a week-long trip.  there are times when you don't notice the load at all, but you know for certain it is there.  there are other times when the pack feels heavy and each step is labored and you are well aware of each and every item you're shouldering.  you hope the top is just around the bend.  for me, the summits are false ones, but i stop to enjoy each view, whether it is of clouds or sun, rain or snow.  because one thing i have learned in eight years is i haven't yet found the summit, if it is there at all.  the real success of this climb is being able to experience each step and what lies around each corner and negotiate the tree roots and rocks that dot the way.  profound moments of peace mingle with challenging ones.

i am deeply thankful for my family and friends.  i count my medical team amongst them. i wouldn't be here without you.

may we dwell in the heart.

may we be free from suffering.

may we be healed wherever healing is called for.

may we be at peace.