My teenage daughter had her eyebrows threaded for the first time (her decision). The threading salon came highly recommended and it was bright and inviting with a peaceful vibe. On the wall by the entrance was a sign next to photos of the owner’s lovely children: “I am not lucky, I am blessed.”
Ok, you probably see where I’m going with this and it has nothing to do with eyebrows. As I waited for my daughter I read the sign over and over again and felt a rush of warm fuzzies. I feel the same way, not simply lucky, but blessed. And in that comfy little shop, I thought about where I was a year and a half ago, scared and disoriented after my diagnosis, feeling like my world was crashing in on me. That seems so far away now.
Later, I was less frantic and lost, but saw a future only as far out as my hand, living treatment to treatment, riding a roller coaster as I went from one new medical experience to the next. But even in the midst of treatment, when I took a moment to stop and look around, I knew that I had so much to be grateful for. Not the least of this were the people who cared for me: brilliant doctors, nurses, therapists and administrative personnel. When I pause to consider my treatment experience, the warmth of these people is what leaves me with such a positive feeling. It was the community of care that made a huge difference: the attending nurses in the infusion room, the radiation therapists that I saw daily for weeks, the other cancer patients, most of whom I never met, but with whom I shared the work of putting together a jigsaw puzzle in the waiting room as we all came for treatments throughout the day. That sense of community, of never feeling alone and always being supported, that’s what makes me feel so blessed right now.
Yes, when I finished my infusions, when I finished radiation, I jokingly told these wonderful people that I hoped I’d never see them again (they get that a lot), but every time I think of them, I am overwhelmed with gratitude.
