A slice of my life and adventures that you can read while eating a sandwich. From traveling the world, to personal hardship, to posts about pie- its all here folks. Enjoy!
The Paradox of Choice
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I implore you, watch this video. It is so worth your time.
I wish they would prescribe nature instead of medicine and stars instead of shots. I wish I could gaze upon wildflowers and the cells in my body would be healed. I want to lay in the grass and soak in the sun and be told that I have accomplished all the treatment I need. I want to meet a doctor on a mountaintop and have them say that s'mores and bonfires are the cure for what ails me. I wish that instead of doctors offices I was prescribed beaches and sand beneath my toes. The answer! (they will shout) is MORE VACATION! The pill! (they will declare) is higher quality chocolate and puppies that lick your toes. I wish that instead of the smells of saline and surface cleaners I could go to an appointment and be handed a drink in a coconut and be greeted by sunshine and a large man playing the ukulele. Instead of death, I would see life. Instead of suffering, I would see joy. I wish that the answer to my problems was to spend more time in the mountains, gaining...
It has been six months since I got the most unexpected diagnosis. It has been six months since cold chills flowed through my body reading the words I dreaded on my tiny telephone screen. It has been six months of tears, of hot showers to try and clear the bad thoughts, of making jokes in doctors offices, and closing my eyes for every blood draw. It has been six months of explaining sadness to my daughter, of leaning into each other when we could barely stand, and of accepting help, meals, babysitting, and prayers. It has been the hardest six months of my marriage. And then, one week ago today, I had my final chemotherapy appointment. 16 rounds of grueling treatment came to an end! Finally, the end of long naps, medications, side effects, coming to know my own face without hair, without eyebrows, without everything I counted on to be seen and known in a certain way. I have been devastated, afraid, and hopeless. I honestly did not think I was strong enough to...
Is kindness as potent as medicine? I'm starting to think so. Last week I really wanted to give up. It all felt so hard and so disheartening. It was a perfect storm of a difficult chemo cycle (including Emma growing molars!) and I really didn't know how to put one foot in front of the other anymore. And then my people showed up. On Instagram and Facebook you all told me to stay strong and keep going. In my texts and on written prayers dropped off at my house, you all told me that God was with me and that I could do this. You all believed in me. You believed that I was indeed mighty, and you prayed for me. As I read each and every word of encouragement, I felt my body shore up a bit. My strength reserves started to feel a little more full, and resolve crept back into my bones. Simple words were my medicine. (Along with a bunch of actual medicine, of course.) With these simple words, like being told I was prayed for by someone who doesn't even believe in praye...
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