May is melting away into June quickly. Where have the last five months gone? I’ve spent the majority of the days being biopsied, recovering from surgery, Magic Markered and irradiated 33 times. By the time my skin looked like a blistered red potato, I’d stopped wearing anything but cotton camisoles on top. I dragged through each day, foggy brained and fatigued, able to do one. thing. at. a. time.
Thank God I am one of the lucky ones who’ll get to pop a pill every day and (hopefully) live a fairly normal life.
My post-rads recovery has produced a pair of epiphanies: I didn’t realize how exhausted I was until I backed into a UPS truck coming out of my own driveway. And, after a trip to the peaceful North Carolina mountains, I finally allowed myself to grieve after a series of setbacks this year.
The decision to sell our beloved little cabin meant it was time to close a chapter in our lives. But giving up something is infinitely easier than giving up someone. You remember, you sigh and you move on.
Last Friday I turned 61, a day of love, tears and laughter, and our last full day in the mountains. Now I could rejoin my life, already in progress.
Happy to be home and healing. This sign is now in our Florida backyard.