Looking back, I can say with a high degree of certainty that this list was instrumental in keeping me alive long enough to “fight” the cancer or “harmonize” my body (depending on your perception of the proverbial volume of the cup.) It is not a bucket list if thats what you’re thinking.
Before my rediagnoses, my labored breathing was one of the first signs that something was very wrong, along with pain throughout my body that mounted exponentially with each passing month. In fact, I was in so much pain that I was eating up Advil Liqui-Gels several times a day, sometimes as many as 4 at a time, out of a giant bulk-sized bottle as if they were life-sustaining vitamins. Lung irritation caused an almost constant dry cough. Extreme irritability and fatigue set in. Also, I sensed and dreaded the irritability of those around me forced to suffer through the annoying disruption of my constant coughing. Basic tasks most take for granted, like talking and breathing, were becoming increasingly difficult. It had been about 9 months since I had been able to take a really deep breath.
Denial warped my interpretation of these signs. Arthritis. Asthma. Bronchitis. My doctor at the time concurred, riding on the same tsunami wave of denial. The crazy fact is, I was practically bedridden with pain. I spent entire weekends in bed. It hurt to change position. I was rapidly losing body mass and muscle. I often required help getting in and out of bed. Several lymph nodes on the left side of my neck were swollen to the size of marbles. Alarmingly, the right half of my chin had become completely numb.
So this is a list I made just after my rediagnosis, just after being released from the hospital. I knew I would need to have a strong desire to live if I was going to “make it.” I didn’t want my last breath to be a shallow and labored. Pain tainted my perception to the point where I was unable to experience pleasure or appreciate the simple things that had once brought me joy and satisfaction. I longed desperately to remember what joy and satisfaction felt like. I knew life was worth living but I was having a hard time remembering why. So I made a list. I focused all of my energy on the list and my health. I decided not to give in to the guilt and fear that had already consumed a hearty chunk of my life and threatened my extinction.
Some of the things on my corny little list are:
Sunshine, laughter, trees, mysteries, soft sheets, old houses, thunderstorms, stained glass, porches, fireplaces, string lights, Halloween, art, music, books, movies
Of course, the first things on my list were not things at all but people. Nathan, my mom, my friends, my family, everyone I loved and everyone who loved me back. Fortunately, these people still resonated with me, they still sparked a tiny little ember of joy through all that pain. Without their love, my burning desire to live and my passion for life would not have reignited.
I can now take a deep satisfying breath and breathe in all the joy and awesomeness around me. Just as I no longer require any medication to ease my pain, I no longer need a list to remember what I love about living. And I am truly grateful for this.
sheilamiller31.wordpress.com 