I’m actually surprised at how effectively my conscious choice of attitude (concerning feeling a grateful sense of composure) has been consistently maintained, over these past several weeks. I’m surprised because clearly, I am astutely aware of subconscious unrest suppressed behind my Line Of Self Control —seriously, if, rather than me, the person awaiting results of a biopsy taken from one of their lungs had been Will, Barry, Steven, David, one of our grandkids or my sister, I’d be a wreck!
Thank goodness, I’ve never kicked my addiction to hope, because each time anxiety threatens to filter into the conscious portion of my processor, I quickly switch tracks from the dark side of my mind toward imagining the results of my bronchoscopy spotlighting a weirdly rare microscopic invasion of little critters, which, having been sliced, diced and definitively diagnosed, will ‘surely’ be peaceably evicted ASAP 🙋🏻♀️🌈🌻
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