Two Years Later

It has been two years now since I first experienced the symptoms that would later be diagnosed as a brain tumor.  And while I wouldn’t say that my life is markedly better now—indeed, sometimes it seems much worse—I met a lot of wonderful people during the process, made new friends, and reconnected with old ones.  If anyone asks, I know exactly which medications will help with nausea during chemotherapy, and I have been in the MRI machine so many times that I am now an old pro at having scans.  I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, or the best-looking, or the wealthiest person you’ll ever meet, but I am skilled at one thing:  surviving.

Fragile

What the events of the past few days have taught me is that life is truly fragile.  So much of life is not about having success, shining in the sun, or thriving.  Life is about our ability to endure, to be here day after day, year after year.   And there are so many obstacles and challenges and structures that try to keep us from enduring, from surviving.  Some days are peaceful and calm.  Some days you spend each and every waking moment scratching and clawing to keep your head above water.  And then other days all of the fighting to endure seems to be worth it—you have a small piece of happiness that you grasp with both hands.  Sometimes the happiness is fragile, and other times it simply endures.

Currently listening to “Never Let Me Go” by Florence + the Machine