People keep sending me things. Beautiful, thoughtful things. They check in via text and FB and email and lovely cards sent through the mail: I’m thinking of you, they say. And for a moment or two or an entire afternoon, I am lifted.
I feel like I have missed opportunities, chances to do the same for others when they may have needed it most. I know now how much it matters, how comforting it can be. I told all this to a friend and she said, “You have a whole new future ahead of you.” I want to believe in her words.
Yesterday I texted a friend from high school. “You don’t think I’m going to die do you?” Without missing a beat she replied, “No. Only the good die young.” Humor and sarcasm. When all else fails, I’ll take these in spades.
My mind drifts into places I don’t want to go. The waiting is a challenge. Yesterday we all piled into the car and drove out east to an antique store I had read about online. My son indulged his vintage Hot Wheels collection and we meandered up and down Sayville’s main street, ducking into stores to get warm. The wind was cold, but the day was bright and clear, the glare from the sun blinding off the piles of snow.
I kept thinking, “Today is the day I would have been coming home from the hospital.” I would have been that much closer to recovery and whatever the next step in my treatment is going to be. I know it’s a small thing, this time delay, but it’s wearing me down. I’m having a hard time.
I know I should be viewing this time as a gift. Extra time with my mom, my family; time to simply be and enjoy. But I can’t always get there. I was so ready. So prepared for surgery. I’m not ready now. I’m not prepared. I’m scared and worried and thinking about what might go wrong. It’s not where I want to be.
I know much of this will pass. I’ll find my way back to the ready point. A week from Tuesday, I’ll be there. I know I will. But in the space between now and then, I may struggle. I will struggle. But my family and friends will be there for me. They’ve shown me that, at least. Their love and support are never a question mark. And there are no words for that, simply the hope that I’ll have a whole new future to give it back — in spades.