After I blogged about Stephanie Nielson's book "Heaven Is Here" yesterday, I realized that her book had a profound effect on me. One thing I found is that I have often avoided any discussions of my conversations with God going through this process of learning to live with a bad diagnosis. But, especially in the beginning trying to understand my disease and its profound change to my life, my Catholic background suddenly became my support. It was my crutch to get through another day and it gave me the strength to gather information and try to move forward. In my soul, I had a feeling that there was a reason I got this disease and that I would probably never fully understand why. My daily prayer was for strength and guidance.
In first grade, the nun was telling us about guardian angels. It was an ah ha moment when I remember thinking, "So THAT'S what that is!" Even as a very young child, I have always felt protected and watched over. Many, many times, it has saved me from bad or even dangerous situations. I always have listened to my intuition. Throughout my life, I have found solace in empty churches. I never understood why people prayed to saints. Why not go directly to the top? My prayers are often just conversations. After I got sick, I prayed to be healed. Then, I prayed to understand what I missed and how I must not have listened to my intuition and gone so far off track that I got this dramatic cosmic slap of a fatal diagnosis. What did I do?
Looking back now, I get it. As I have blogged recently, I have become very grateful for my disease. http://livingwellwithabaddiagnosis.blogspot.com/2013/07/grateful-for-disease-ten-years-later.html
Like Stephanie, I feel as if I now have a responsibility to offer hope to others as they walk on this same path. It is not an easy path. It is filled with sorrow and grief and such emotional pain. But, as in every good story, there needs to be the bad in order to recognize and celebrate the good. The good is to wake every morning grateful for another day on this earth, our embrace on the front steps as Michael heads to work, the time I have been able to spend with my mom, the joy of being with our son, my relationships with my doctors, my relationships at rehab, being able to perform with an orchestra, hearing Michael's key in the lock and noticing my heart beating faster.
It has been a tough ten years through a baptism by fire, but now I realize that I am indeed living well with a bad diagnosis.
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