As I may have mentioned, I am beyond antsy at this point. The latest is that I’ll be here through the weekend. Maybe I’ll be released on Sunday at the earliest, but it’s not likely.
Much thanks to those who have agreed to visit and to try to keep me sane, as I climb the walls.
Today, I may venture to the patient lounge on the 15th floor just to get out of my room and see what’s happening. Last night, someone knocked on my door and offered a guitarist to serenade me. It’s a cool idea, but I’m weird about musicians/performers being able to see me, so I deferred to another time.
Thanks, too, to all of those who have offered me words of strength—and encouraging words about my own strength.
The thing is, I never wanted to be strong. Often, I worried I was weak. I hoped I would stay that way, untested by life.
When I looked at my somewhat charmed life, I feared I skipped a step. Had I done something to deserve these amazing friends? This life, rich in experiences? A career I loved? The love of my life? Did I need to suffer first? Work harder?
I sometimes worried that I hadn’t earned what I had. Now I know that’s not true. I worked for what I had and I definitely deserve the company of the great people I’ve surrounded myself with.
I didn’t need cancer to see that. I didn’t need cancer to make me stronger, though it has. Sometimes, something terrible happens, and we don’t know why. This was one of those things. I hope to be on the other side soon.