Letter Nine

Dear Vera,


Where to begin? I guess from the start... or wherever we left of would be OK. So much has happened since the last time I wrote to you. Let's start with the serious stuff so we can move on to the exciting things that are happening. First of all, about two weeks ago, I had a relapse. It was not a pleasant time for me; I was an emotional  wreak. We had a hard time getting my LU shot, so I was several weeks late getting my treatment. I was slowly getting worse as each day slipped by without treatment. I went to work, went home rested for awhile and headed out the door to church. During church, it all started. My pain went from manageable to unbearable in about one hour. So we did what we do best: we prayed, and then we called Dr dV. She was on call and said, 'Let's party; get to MBMC.' So that's what we did. K & T were with me that Wednesday night, but had to leave town the next morning to take our Junior Bible Quizzers to the NCBQE. 


Unfortunately, I was back at MBMC that Friday night, without the people that knew how to hold me and my world together. The time had come for me to stand without the support of the nearest and dearest. I had to learn to let new people into the inner circle, and share details of my life that were, and still are, very personal. I soon found out that I had to emerge from the shell that I had created during the first several months of this journey. It was time to redefine me and re-examine my world. I opened up for the first time in a very long time and let those people become support posts of my world. Those people might not know how they fit in, or what exactly it means to be in my world; but they are apart of all of this. They too, are a part of the support group. 

My world has changed so much in the past few months. My world is no longer a play by play of the awful moments that were consumed with hospital stays. It's now all about looking at the bigger picture and fighting this battle, one day at a time. The battle in which there is no victory, only moments in which I can make a stand and pray that someone makes that stand with me. It wasn't always easy to stand with a smile, pushing past the pain. Smiling doesn't always mean you are happy. Sometimes, smiling is necessary to convince yourself and the rest of the world that you are strong. The times that my eyes didn't cry and my did smile, were the times when my heart cried the loudest. My world is a place where it's OK for me to be weak; because I have people holding me up, believing that I am strong. I'm strong, because I know what it's like to be weak. Slightly scarred, with a strength that runs deep, I am slowly emerging from the quiet dark pools of unshed tears and moments of extreme pain. From every wound there is a scar, and each scar tells a story. A story that says, 'I survived.' I am me. And I will be am OK.