In spades

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.


7 thoughts on “In spades

  1. The “wait” has certainly been a challenge. But these last few days have been a sort of gift for me at least. My own strength seems to be going through an odd build-up. And the captured moments are being stored in me as reminders of what will be in the not-to-distant future. You are an amazing woman. Hey! so is your mom! The countdown is on again and just lean on any and all of us as hard and often as possible.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I can only imagine how hard the waiting is. You do have a whole new future on the other side of all of this. Thinking of you, hoping the time passes quickly for you. xo

    Liked by 1 person

  3. The waiting is so hard. And then it doubled on you. I felt the same waiting for my surgery. I didn’t want to be around people lest I catch some bug. It was hard to engage in distractions. But you will get there, and you will get to the other side of this. Love and prayers to you, dear Kristen. xoxoxo

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Well the worst is now over!!!! I remember when I went through the same thing, All I wanted was to have surgery and get the cancer our of my body. Your wait must have been unimaginable. I wish for you, and your family some peace during your recovery. I know that you will ask “Why me” but for my own sake, it was one of the best things to happen to me. I learned to live so differently than I had up to that point. I live more everyday, and care less about so many things. Kristen I can’t wait to see you, so we can have a memory together.


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