I woke up a few mornings ago in the middle of the night and my mind starting whirring away.
That's not a new development by any stretch,
but I've always marvelled at how I can go to sleep, and when I wake up it's almost like I pushed pause on the digital playback and it just
picked right up where I left off. Is that weird?
I seem to be on another impromptu tour of the medzone lately and I find myself on that path of reminiscing.. looking back over the last leg of the journey from the last tour to this one and taking stock.
Not surprisingly this week's episode brought me back to September of 1994. Sitting alone in a waiting area with my notebook, writing what some might have considered goodbye letters to people that mattered most to me in case I didn't get to come home and tell them myself. I remember being so very grateful that nobody could see the wonderfully sexy (not!) costume I was sporting with the blue shower cap and matching socks. The fart-friendly ball gown was nothing to get excited about either. It was special..
As I sat there writing and beating myself up for everything I'd hoped to accomplish by this point I wrote messages to my Dad, and to my sister, a couple of close friends and a letter to someone I'd been completely hung up on at the time. By the time they came to get me for surgery I was still writing, and I had tears rolling down my face at the thought that I might never see any of these people again. It was a wake up call and I worried that it had come too late. It was just one week before my 25th birthday.
I was lucky, however, and the patron saint of Cancer (if there is one) allowed me to remain. After a difficult surgery in which 3 litres of blood were lost and I'd almost died, followed by a whirlwind bout of agresssive chemo I was on the path to my future.
I had no idea at the time that in January of 1996 I'd be sitting on that bench again. The self-beatings then weren't so kind. The news had come as a real blow because I felt good - I had hair at long last - I was ready to get living. The planning committee had other ideas, I suppose.
Thankfully I was very lucky then too and this time it wasn't cancer. Dad would joke I had a horseshoe up my butt. I was grateful for that. A sunny disposition, humor and plenty of music were got me through I'd say. I spent a lot of time with my headphones on listening to music and writing.
There have been a number of times since where I've been on that bench or one simaler in a different spot finding myself wondering how I got to this place. People say that God's got a plan, but I have to wonder what the hell I must have done to have ticked him off so badly. Don't we all deserve a certain degree of happy and healthy in our lives? I jokingly refer to the last 21 years as "My life as guinea pig," but it really isn't funny at all. Quite frankly the knowledge that I'll someday be the subject of someone's term paper or textbook isn't at all comforting.
In light of another impromptu tour of the medzone lately, coupled with some unrelated life events I find myself looking around again and how much has changed since the last time. I can't help but smile at the path life has taken. There is still so much I have left to do, but this is certainly a great start. After 46 years of being someone's daughter, sister, friend, girlfriend, wife, mom, stepmom.. I find myself in a place of looking forward to an adventure of tackling some of the long-term goals on my list. In true me fashion the interest net is wide, but with any luck I'll have plenty of time to figure it all out.
Onward and Upward!