In all honesty, I’m not sure how restless my day will prove to be—last night, we received word that a dear friend was diagnosed with a brain tumor (only months after she’d undergone surgery—in Houston—for breast cancer), and then, this morning, our niece, Beth, called to say that her cousin, Eric, died after battling lymphoma for the last two years of his young life, and shortly after that, tightly coiled anxiety, suppressed deep inside me, uncorked. So—
Before the dark side could swallow my spirit whole, I took my oncologist’s PA’s suggestion to heart and swallowed an Ativan, which she’d recently reminded me had been prescribed specifically to help me to move through circumstances empowered to trigger a melt down exactly like this one could become. So—
Rather than watching my spirit sink too low, knowing that (resultant of this current spike in the Covid crises), my friend faces surgery in the hospital without family or friends holding her hand, I’ve chosen to float above anxiety, which tends to emerge once my questioning nature unleashes ‘what if’s’ that prove beyond my control. So—
Since our friend’s second cancer surgery is today, Will and I are awaiting news, which we hope will confirm her surgeon’s prognosis concerning this second tumor being so small that they’ll go in and get it all. So—
Though every post penned cannot reflect super human strengths coming to my aid when fear is in need of being placed in restraints, I can offer you sound reason to hold hands with hope, which plays a huge part in keeping my spirit afloat ...
👩🏻🌈🌻Annie
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