This morning I walked downstairs one foot per step.
It has been nearly two months since I’ve had to use two feet per step as my achilles tendons have been so tight – a side effect of the antibiotic I took for a sore throat.
It’s funny how much one takes for granted in terms of health. I forgot that it used to hurt to take in a deep breath. I realized that for some reason breathing was easier – I can fill my lungs more completely – but I forgot that it used to hurt to breathe.
I forgot that my stomach used to spasm all the time. I think, I don’t know, that it was because cancer was growing on the tissue. The spasms almost felt like a baby kicking. I certainly don’t miss them – but I forgot about them.
I have energy. I get used to having energy. My son David and I challenged ourselves to descending and then scaling a steep embankment leading to a stream at the bottom. It was stenuous – and exhilarating. I only stopped because I didn’t want to overdo things.
My hair is growing – I no longer look like a cancer patient but someone with a funky haircut. My head does not get cold – I forget how cold it used to get. I forget that people need to worry about using a brush or a comb – I forget that I used to worry about getting caught in the rain. I forget that I used to worry about curling, straightening, or blow drying my hair – every morning. Those are good things to forget. This – lack of product and tool use is my contribution to the reduction of CO2. grin.
I am alive. I forget how it felt to be negotiating death every day. Not that I ever felt it was on my door – step. It’s just that it was imminent. It hovered just outside the window and I had to shoo it away every morning.
I have to purposefully remember to thank God for every day I have.
Every day is a gift.
Every opportunity to sing is a gift.
Every opportunity to make a memory with my children is a gift. I want them to remember me by “something” we used to do together.
Every hug is a gift.
Every step — one full step — is a gift.