One year

I have been writing but not as much. Sometimes it takes me to a place that takes a few days to get out of. What I have written I have not posted because well, its proably only things I would understand. I am focusing on my goals and being happy. Trying to stay positive as I gain more confidence. My last scan was “clear”, but there are still some concerning areas they are watching closely.

I wrote this yesterday, January 21, 2017. One year since my surgery. Thank you to everyone who was there that day and the amazing people I have met along the way. You are all priceless to me.

The picture of the stadium is the view that I could see as they took me to surgery. The nurse stopped for a minute before taking me in and just let me look out. I wish I could thank him. I looked at all the life and movement that was going to continue to happen while I was under, completely unharmed and unaware. Now whenever I am around the James I always take a minute to think about those patients that are up there, about to have surgery… wondering if anyone down there even thinks about them. The second picture is what I saw right after, pretty self explanatory but thats a operating room at the James, completely lifeless. Just thought I would show what that day was like from a patient’s perspective.

One year ago. I can’t believe it. And here I am.

Sitting in my bed, typing this.

I feel heavy when I think about it.

Gravity gets stronger, I feel like I’m being slammed to the floor.

What am I supposed to do? Would you consider this an anniversary?

Should I mourn? Laugh? Cry? Smile? Celebrate?

I am overwhelmed.I remember it too well, its somewhat ethereal.

I have so many words in my head trying to describe how it feels.

I just feel so much at once that it hurts.

Seconds hit like glass hammers as I think back to that day.

I read the things I wrote to myself that day and it brings me to my knees.

Straight back to those moments.

A year ago I was in a hospital bed, incapable of even standing up.

On drugs that made me feel so out of control that I actually think I would prefer the pain they were trying to block.

In and out of consciousness I went as the people who loved me had to sit and watch me suffer.

I was forced into complete submission, unable to take care of my self or make any decisions.

That day my life was forced to a hault.

I went into that surgery room knowing when I woke up everything would be different.

I would be different, in a state of being I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy.

I consciously knew it was going to be hard. A living hell.

… only because I had unfortunately been through it before

I knew my months would be summed up by standing up only to be shoved right down again.

Condemned to pain, depression, exhaustion. A mental game.

Some days hardly having the wherewithal to get out of bed.

But I had no choice.

I can’t think about it…My brain tightens and my body shutters.

It feels so so surreal and it is happy yet so sad.

I got through it.

But, its hard to admit to myself because I’m absolutely terrified…

that this day in the past will soon be another tomorrow.

It could come back. Hell it could be back right now.

They don’t know for sure, can’t know for sure.

It sucks.

But I have learned to live, to smile when fear cowers its ugly face.

But damn some days are tough, and I’ll admit that.

I refuse to lie about this world, its hard…absolutely horrible at times.

And it has flat out taken me apart.

In a way I think I’m making it a little more beautiful by refusing to lie about it.

So I guess on this “anniversary” the main thing I want to reflect on and say is this:

I’m lucky.

This horrible thing that the world handed to me, in turn gave me distance from the world itself. It has let me to look at it in a way no one else does.

It made me move closer to everyone around me because I understand just how bad that horrible thing can be.

And thankfully the world has given back a little of what I lost each day in return.

So yeah this day, this “anniversary”..it’s a cliché.

It’s sad, scary, hard, but also happy…

I want to celebrate, I want to cry, I want to laugh, and I want to mourn.

And that’s all OK.

I’m OK.