Thursday, May 12, 2011

Diagnosis Day: five years later

They said five years would be here before we knew it.  I disagree.  Every one of those years has hit hard.  The impact from then until now has created ripples that will last generations.

I've said it a million times: I wouldn't go back and change it if I could, but I wouldn't want to go through it again.

I don't think I can speak for Anne-Marie on this, but I feel like I've grown up since then.  I've learned a new meaning of joy.  One that still lasts even though the things you thought made you happy have been taken away.

I now feel a lot more comfortable around hurting people.  I had to since I encountered them every day the year we spent in hospitals and chemo rooms.  That's given me a compassion that runs deeper than momentary pity.

In the small stuff category, I found out what it means to be broke, how to call someone for help and why saying "I love you" every single day matters a lot.  In fact, a lot of little things like this had their meaning changed forever sometime in the last five years.

I now believe in the power of redemption more than ever.  I've always been highly skilled at seeing the bad in the good, but now I can see the good in the bad.

Maybe you're just at the beginning of your five years. I'm sorry for what you are facing.  If I could say anything without sounding flippant, I would say to ask God to help you see a means of redemption in this.  And don't be afraid or feel guilty if you feel sad or angry sometimes.  That's natural.  You can make it through those things if you don't let them consume you.

These things will pass.  It may not be quick and it may involve quite a process, but there is hope on the other side of your five years.

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