What I Know

I am starting to tune into what is hard about right now. Remember everything I said about not having control? All those lessons I thought I had learned, all those things I thought I understood? I was wrong. I am not there yet. Sometimes I wonder if I ever will be.

During the history of my treatment, I have always been able to come home and heal however I chose. This time, though, I have to endure, and embrace, a year of taking pharmaceutical drugs and not being able to eat some of my favorite foods. In addition, I can't go out and engage with people or take the kids anywhere. This is a whole different level of lack of control.

Not surprisingly, the combination of food, drug, and movement restrictions has left me feeling sad and restless. I am trying so hard to be grateful for the opportunity to learn to let go all over again, for declaring that there is nowhere else I'd rather be, but I have to be honest with myself. I am not loving this right now.

But I know what I love. I love dragonflies. I can watch dragonflies for hours. I love the way they zig zag around the yard. I love the way they appear out of nowhere when the mosquitoes come. I love the way they will land on John's hand while they are eating a bug, and just sit there, crunching. I love the way they look. I love that they are ancient insects.

And I love my daily walks. I love the way the moss grows on the trees along this road. I love the rock formations. I love how the light filters through all the great oaks here, differently at different times of day. I love when Wallace comes with me on his bike, and chats. I love when my leg muscles are sore from pushing myself.

I love having cancer behind me. I love having received this gift of a transplant. I love that I feel so amazingly, surprisingly, well. I love that this is a challenge, and that I can rise to it.