Oh, what a glorious morning

This coming Wednesday will be the non-official date when I received the full enchilada of my cancer diagnosis.  The “real” date was the 10th, but to me, it was the second week of school that counts more.  It is the context of the events that resonates with me more than anything else.  And that context was – the second week of classes.

I had told my class on the Tuesday that I had an appointment in the morning.  I wasn’t worried.  “I’ll be back, but I’ll be late,” I advised them.  And then I think I invited one of my students to the front to lead my grade 12 English class in a warm up which consisted of some lively Cuban music and an abbreviated zumba lesson.  There were some students who were thrilled to receive this lesson, while others were, well, not so thrilled.  Nonetheless, it was a fun way to begin a morning of reading and writing.

“Stacey, you fought hard and you did so well,” my friend Cathy told me over dinner last night.

“I didn’t work as hard as everyone else did.  It was the doctors, the nurses, my family and friends who were the ones who worked hard.  I just sat there and did what I could.” I added.

“But you didn’t give up.  You did everything you should have done,”  my other friend Anne added.

“True.  But it is still easier to be the patient – it is more difficult to watch everyone around me suffer.”

And that was the truth.  When I thought about myself and what I needed to do – it was a clear cut path.  Yes – I was sad, scared, and angry at the same time.  But it was when I thought of my husband, children, and my friends that I felt true agony.  It was the thought that they would be left without me – grieving – that upset me the most.  What would my children do without a Mom?  That broke me.  I could not even think about going to Gilda’s Club as I would see families who were on the other side of the loss — and I didn’t want to see what that looked like.

Today is a beautiful day.  The sun is shining and there is a slight cool, crispness in the breeze.  The kingfisher is chirping away as he scouts out his territory over the pond behind the house.  The green of the leaves is hinting at ceding to the brilliant reds and oranges buried beneath.  I feel well.  I will go for a walk, perhaps a bike ride, and maybe even do some grocery shopping today.

Oh, how things have changed in one year.  I had a difficult time teaching as I was in so much pain.  I thought it was gall bladder.  I couldn’t sneeze or yawn without being rudely halted because of the pain those functions produced.  I couldn’t sleep as my liver hurt too much – I was full of cancer.

Hard to believe.

Such miracles have happened to me.  I didn’t think I’d see this day.  Yet, here I am.  Thanks to my community of supporters I am alive and well.  My eyes are wide open and I’m hesitant to close them lest I miss something.  Life is palpable.  I still have fear – but there is less fear.  I still have pain – but the pain is more of “growing pains”.  I still have grief – but it is manageable.  I am alive and I am still a thorn in the side of those who stand on the other side of my political spectrum!  Grin.

I am reminded by these posts, of the journey my family and friends and I have been on.  Perhaps the word “journey” is not the word I will ultimately choose?  Maybe roller-coaster, night-mare, or …something else would be more appropriate?  I have been somewhere I never thought I would have been – nor returned from.  I have had my horizons stretched to see beyond my limits.  I have escaped death – for now – and learned lessons that could not be taught in the classroom.

My vocabulary of life has expanded and the language I now speak transcends physical representations.

Today is a glorious day and I’m off to embrace it!

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About inmycorner

This blog began as an opportunity to tell my Dad's stories. I sat with him and the computer and together we told stories. It was a wonderful way to get to know Dad. He was 9. He and Mom had a wonderful life together and since she passed away a year and a half before him - Dad was ready to join her. I no longer tell his stories but have found stories of my own. The impetus to resume this blog was the discovery that I had stage 4 ovarian cancer. Since blogging had been so therapeutic for my dad and I to get through our grief, I felt maybe this would be a good outlet to process my situation. I also hoped it may serve as an outreach to anyone else who is facing this very ominous journey. So far, so good.
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27 Responses to Oh, what a glorious morning

  1. Pingback: High Flight

  2. Gayle Draper says:

    I was so glad I saw this today, Gayle

  3. pixieannie says:

    I could almost have been sat across the table from you, sharing a cup of tea… your writing is inspiring, motivating, heartfelt and I am humbled.

  4. Janine says:

    Oh I miss having you at school, wish you were there this week. I will stop by soon XOXO

  5. Gwen K says:

    I am so happy you’re at the other end of your hair raising (or at least hair changing) adventure. It certainly has been a sort of roller coaster ride filled with some scary “hairpin” turns. With the support of family and friends you’ve succeeded in coming to the other end of the ride.

  6. Nicole Dube says:

    Another beautifully written heartfelt word. I am so glad that you are here to still enjoy beautiful days like this with family and friends. It was great spending a bit of time with you Saturday evening 🙂

    • inmycorner says:

      I am so glad to be here too, Nicole! And YES – how much fun was that celebration? That’s the way to do life, isn’t it? Mark the special occasions and simply celebrate. Thanks for the comment and for reading, Nicole!

  7. Stacey, you are amazing with your life vocabulary. Powerful. Clear. Defining. Brave. You did indeed fight this wickedness. Thank you for bringing us along. You even did that, while so very sick.

  8. Gallivanta says:

    I have been absent for a while but it’s great to come back to your blog in time to enjoy your glorious morning!

  9. djrakiey says:

    Sending Blessings and happy thoughts to keep you warm ♥♥♥

  10. RoSy says:

    Mmmm… enchiladas. 😉

  11. Such wisdom in Anne’s words. You fought so hard. And it’s so important to have a community of support. Wishing you a great week.

  12. Mary Kendall says:

    You have been on my mind this week. I hope all is well. Keep writing. Keep doing all you do. ❤

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