All Walks of Life

One of my favorite aspects about being a frequent visitor to hospitals and cancer centers, is that I get to meet many different types of people.  I have the opportunity to form bonds with fellow patients from all over the world.  I get the pleasure of diving into their culture, and learning first hand about their traditions.  I love immersing myself in the lives of those around me.  I've been extremely fortunate when it comes to my curiosity.  Most of my fellow cancer patients welcome me into their style of life with open arms.

I'll be the first to admit that I can get a bit carried away when I submerge myself in the lifestyles of those around me.  I instantly throw myself into the culture of my friends.  I enjoy watching the interactions between families, and multiple groups of friends.  I soak up as much as I can, and before I know it I transform into an alternate version of myself.  I hold tight to the integrity of my individual character, but I will permeate my personality with a bit of cultural pizzazz.  I want to be perfectly clear that I am in no way mocking, or poking fun at different ethnicities.  I am fascinated by all walks of life.  I simply pick up phrases, and mannerisms of those I spend time with daily.

Since moving to the Mid-South, I have perforated my northern accent with a slight southern accent.  It usually only comes out at the hospital when I'm chatting it up with the nursing staff.  They all have such thick southern drawls.  Words like ya'll, and fixins' sneak out of my mouth from time-to-time.  I embrace it, and considerate myself bilingual...Ha!  Yupper mixed with Hick, a touch of a British accent, and dusted with a Southern Drawl.  Yup, that's me!

There is group of Jewish ladies I instantly migrate to everyday.  They play bridge every afternoon after their mid-day meal.  They don't spend much time actually playing the game.  Most of the time they are swapping stories, and gossiping about other patients.  I flock to these ladies like "moths to a flame".  They are intriguing to watch, and a blast to hang out with.  I have picked up some of their idiosyncrasies.  They come out in full force when I'm around these ladies.  I transform into a combination of Barbra Streisand, and Mike Myers Coffee Talk character from Saturday Night Live.  I through around my fair share of words like: schvitzing, verklempt, and Mazel Tov.  I simply love these ladies.  I honestly don't think they can get through the day without saying Oy Vey at least 40 times, throwing salt over their shoulders at least 20 times, and spitting on someone for good luck at least 10 times.  I will gladly join in on the Oy Vey tally, but I'm a far cry from carrying around salt in my purse, or hawking a loogie in someone's face for luck.

Another clan I enjoy spending time with is a family of 100% Italians.  They are a such an adorable bunch.  The grandfather of the crew has been stricken with an aggressive form of cancer.  The tight-knit family doesn't let a day pass without visiting grandpa.  Each day the group gathers for family dinner.  An endless stream of family members fill the cafeteria toting pans of food, pitchers of beverages, and a new flower arrangement for the table.  The family has so much love and respect for each other.  I have been invited to join them on quite a few occasions.  They welcome me as if I was a part of the family.  The eccentricities I have observed while watching the family interact, consume my nature.  I immediately jump into the nurturing, selfless role I see the other wives and mothers play.  Before I know it, I"m serving up food, and making sure everyone has gotten enough to eat.  I find myself asking everyone if they got the bread, drinks, and dessert they wanted.  I am constantly asking if everyone's food is hot enough.  Before they can even answer, I grab their plate, and tell them I'll nuke it for another minute to make sure it's nice and hot.  I run around with a chicken with my head cut off along side the other ladies.  It is most important they the family has a successful dinner.  After the group has eaten, the wives/mothers and I finally sit down to eat.  We pick at the food as we exchange in witty banter.  After being so polite during dinner, those ladies remove their censors, and curse like sailors.

The group that is most entertaining is a pack of Vietnam Veterans.  They are dirty old men that spend their days hitting on nurses, and fellow patients.  They swap vulgar jokes, and the same war stories day-after-day.  From afar they appear to be a battalion of impenetrable grumps, but that is the furthest thing from the truth.  Although, they love gossiping like a gaggle of 16 year old girls, they also possess a lot of heart.  They will come to the rescue of anyone in need.  Their troop isn't as impenetrable as it looks.  They gladly welcome newcomers.  As of right now, I am the only lady member of the pack, but I have a tough skin.  I'll throw dirt right back at guys.  I can hang with the most bubbly and cheerful of ladies, but I can also kick it with the grumpiest of men.  One thing I can promise is that both visits will end in a giant bear hug!

Each day at the hospital is like a visit to the United Nations.  I get the pleasure of interacting with plethora of men and women from all walks of life.  I truly enjoy learning about different cultures and ethnicities.  I appreciate all of the people who share their lives with me on a daily basis.  I am a better person because of the knowledge I learned from them.

The life of a 20-something cancer patient: Rita

The life of a 20-something cancer patient: Rita: Sundays are typically a slow day at the hospital.  Just like any healthy person, sick patients enjoy taking the weekends off to spend with f...

Rita

Sundays are typically a slow day at the hospital.  Just like any healthy person, sick patients enjoy taking the weekends off to spend with family and friends.  I spend most weekends at the hospital because my husband works in the golf industry.  Weekends are a particularly busy time at the golf club, as one would expect.  I've been very fortunate to be able to work my treatment schedule around my husband's work schedule.  I have also had the pleasure of forming strong bonds with the few patients that stick around on the weekends, and furthermore, with the weekend hospital staff.  Fewer patients allow for less haste and stress at the cancer center.  The relaxed atmosphere allows more time for conversations, and getting to know one another.  There is one particular woman I always make sure to catch up with on the weekends.  Unlike most of the patients she has treatments only on the weekends.  She maintains a full-time job Monday through Friday, so she focuses solely on her healthcare two days a week.  When the weekend rolls around, I always look forward to catching up with her.

Today played out the same as usual.  I headed to the hospital early for treatment, and to catch up with Rita.  She was the first person I spotted after checking in, so naturally we jumped right into conversation.  Rita is a single, hard-working lady.  She's very assertive and forward, but not in a bulldozing kind of way.  She speaks with a soft tone, and a strong southern accent.  Her charm can be deceiving.  She has the ability to make grown men cry, and leave hospital staff standing in a pool of urine.  I've seen it happen...yikes!  Needless to say, don't get on Rita's bad side.  For the most part, she has a heart of gold, and cares deeply about the people in her life.  She will stop at nothing to make her loved ones happy.  I know this because of the wonderful stories she has told me about her past 60 years.  Rita loves to talk, and her favorite topic is herself.  I don't mind listening to her go on-and-on about her adventures.  She has had an exciting, and eventful life.  We usually skim the surface of what's happening in my life before spending hours chatting about hers.  The situation works for us.  We both walk away from our get togethers with a smile on our face.  Today, however, Rita threw me for a loop.

We connected as soon as I arrived at the hospital.  We exchanged pleasantries, as usual, before jumping into deep conversation.  Rita immediately told me that she received a phone call the night before that changed her life.  I was intrigued, to say the least.  I had a pretty good idea who the call was from, but Rita didn't come outright with the callers name.  Instead, she asked me an intimate question.  I was surprised.  Rita rarely asks me about the details of my life.  She questioned me about the relationships with my family, and friends.  I explained to her that I have always surrounded myself with lots of friends, and that I also have a large extended family.  I went on to explain that most of my relationships were superficial, until I received my cancer diagnosis.  I realized that life isn't something to take for granted, and that life is meant to be shared with the ones you love.  Cancer helped me weed out unhealthy relationships, and embrace positive relationships.  Cancer has also taught me to appreciate the life I've been given.  It has shown me how to make each day count, and how to forgive all the wrongs I have committed, as well as, the wrongs that have been committed against me.  Cancer has helped me decipher between the life I thought I should be living, and the life want to live.  Cancer has given me the chance to explore my passions, and discover who I truly am.  Most importantly, cancer has shown me what unconditional love looks like.  Above all, cancer has transformed my family into my closest friends, and my closest friends into family.  These bonds are stronger than ever.  I no longer view my parents, and sister as just my family.  They are my best friends.  The same goes for my extended family.  The relationships with my aunts, uncles, cousins, etc are no longer out of obligation.  We choose to maintain friendships with each other.  The outpouring of love I feel from family members near, and far is incredible.  The support we share is mutual and never-ending.  The same goes for the friends in my life.  They are no longer just friends, they are a part of my family.  Whether we have been friends since birth, or we have recently made a connection, these bonds are indestructible.  The true friends I have made throughout my life have remained faithful.  For that, I am abundantly grateful.

As I rambled on in response to her question, I saw tears well up in Rita's eyes.  By the end of our chat Rita had tear streaming down her face.  I was concerned, and a little uneasy, to be completely honest.  I had never seen Rita cry.  She reached out her ams, and hugged with such warmth, and compassion.  As we stood there, embracing one another, she whispered in my ear that the call was from Peter.  The moment Peter's name passed through her lips, the tears rolled down my cheek.  Peter is Rita's estranged son.  She had him at a very young age.  She raised him the best way she knew how, but when she married her now ex-husband, Peter stopped talking to his mother.  He was an adult, living on his own, but he didn't approve of the marriage.  He dropped all contact with his mother.  She tried desperately to reunite with him over the years, but could never break down the wall Peter put up.  He was completely unaware of his mother's condition, and I could tell Rita's heart was breaking.  She put on a tough facade, but her eyes showed the truth.  The pain she was feeling regarding the loss of her son was more than any pain related to her health.  I knew I had to do something.

I took a risk by talking to the nursing staff about Rita's situation.  I only spoke to the nurses pertinent to acquiring the information I needed.  Sidebar: I don't condone my mischievous behavior, and I take full responsibility for the leaked information.  Anyway, once I procured Rita's next of kin paperwork, I took it upon myself to contact her son.  I knew it was a long-shot, but I had to try.  I called him, and left a message regarding his mother's current state of health.  I also let him know of the affinity I have for Rita.  I expressed to him the concern I have for her physical and mental state.  Lastly, I shared with him how much Rita misses him.  I explained that not a day goes by that she doesn't think of him, and she tells me stories about how amazing her son is every weekend.  I begged him to contact her one way, or another.  I left him my phone number, as well as, his mother's.  A week later I got a message from him thanking me for the message, and for contacting him.  He told me he would call his mom soon, but he wasn't quite ready.  He needed to prepare for the conversation.  I text him back quite simply, "Thank You".  I knew it wouldn't be long before he made that call.  As soon as Rita told me she got a life-changing call, I knew it was from Peter.

I believe that happiness comes in many forms, but true happiness lies within the company we keep.

The life of a 20-something cancer patient: The Journey

The life of a 20-something cancer patient: The Journey: As my ten year high school reunion nears, I can't helped by reflect upon my life since graduation.  Whew, I cannot believe it has been t...

The Journey

As my ten year high school reunion nears, I can't helped by reflect upon my life since graduation.  Whew, I cannot believe it has been ten years already!  That is a lot to take in!  The fact that we are all getting older doesn't bother me.  I believe that we get better as we age.  I am, however, floored by how quickly the years flew by.  In many ways I still feel like that 18 year old girl excited, and filled with anxiety about the future.  On the other hand, I feel like a 90 year old woman who is bruised, and broken.  The past ten years have been a wild ride, to say the least.

I think it's safe to say that I did not live the "typical" life of a girl in her twenties.  I am not complaining. I have no huge regrets to this date, but I do wish I could have spent more nights puking as a result of excess drinking rather than from serious health issues.  That is a wildly ridiculous wish, but it is my truth.  I don't feel cheated from a "normal" college, or young adult experience.  I attended my fair share of parties, made many irrational decisions, and have plenty of embarrassing memories in my arsenal.  I also harbor a wealth of jealousy to all of you who had the opportunity to live your twenties footloose, and carefree.  That makes me sound like a bitter old hag, but again that is the truth that surges inside of me.  On occasion, I allow myself a small amount of pity for the adventures, and adolescence behavior I missed out on.  I refuse to dwell for too long on what I thought my twenties would be like.  Instead, I choose to reminisce about all the wonderful experiences I may not have encountered if I followed the path I mapped out for future after high school.  Surprises and uncertainty quickly grounded me.  Cancer forced me to slow down.  It showed me the importance of living for today instead of living in a transitional state.  Cancer allowed me to fully appreciate the people, and the places around me.  I am unsure if I would have made as many meaningful relationships in my life without being blindsided by cancer.  I think a part of me has always known that my life would be a roller-coaster.  I never fit the "typical" mold.

I remember when I was in second grade.  We were given the task to draw a picture of what we wanted to be when we grew up.  I was super excited about this particular assignment.  I knew immediately what I wanted to be, and exactly how I would draw it.  The teacher handed out blank pieces of paper.  I was giddy with anticipation.  I watched my fellow students pass the paper down rows until finally receiving the pristine white sheet for myself.  I had all of my colored pencils lined up on my desk.  The tip of the pencil could not touch the paper fast enough.  I was in the zone.  I used the entire thirty minutes to sketch my masterpiece.  The teacher collected the sheets when time was called.  She ushered us out to recess, and informed us that she would be looking over our drawings while we were outside.  She also told us that she was going to pick the top five to share with the rest of the class.  I was sure I was going to be one of the top five.  I was confident I picked the best job, and my picture was immaculate.  I stewed with excitement all through recess.  Then, the time came.  We were back in the classroom, and my teacher began calling off the names of the top five pictures.  I was completely devastated after realizing she was not going to call my name.  I sat in disbelief, and utter confusion as the "special" five explained their drawings and career choices.  I was crushed, and I'm positive you could read it all over my face.  After the presentations, the teacher returned the reject depictions to the rest of us.  As she handed the paper back to me, I could see a large red mark in the middle of my masterpiece.  Once the sheet was in my hand I could read the writing.  It was stamped with the word REDO!  Underneath the bold red REDO, it said to see her after class.  I was overwhelmed by sadness and fear.  None of the other students had received such awful feedback on their drawings.  I dreaded facing my teacher at the end of the day.  When the time came, I waited for my fellow classmates to shuffle out of the room.  I sat in my desk with my head down until all of the children were gone.  When the cost was clear, I approached my teacher about the assignment.  She told me matter-of-factly that being a cheerleader was not a real job.  I had to pick a "real" career, and redo the assignment.  She went on to explain that I wouldn't be docked any points if I brought it to her first thing in the morning.  I was furious!  I put all my effort into that picture.  When I returned home, I promptly started my homework, leaving my redo assignment until last.  I was still angry that I had to draw another picture, so I quickly sketched a picture of a lawyer.  I used one color, and left it very simple.  It was nothing compared to the beautiful art piece I created earlier in the day.  As soon as I arrived at school the next day, I headed straight to my classroom.  My teacher wasn't in the room, so I left the paper on her desk.  The morning went on like any other day.  When it came time for recess, the teacher asked me to hang back for a minute.  I did as I was told, and waited for my classmates to clear out.  My teacher thanked me for redoing the assignment as asked.  I got full credit for completing it before school started.  The only comment she had for me was that the giant frown I drew on the face of me as a future lawyer was unnecessary.  I've always had a bit of flair for the dramatic....

It is important to have a direction in life, but don't put blinders on to the world outside of your goal.  Life doesn't always pan out the way we plan.  In fact, the best things in life usually enter when we aren't looking.  Being faced with difficult diagnosis, and a multitude of daily obstacles, I have realized that life is truly about the connections we make.  Memories are made when we embrace the people and places in our lives.  The best lesson I have learned over these past ten years is to push forward to the goals we set in life, but to remember that life is honestly about the journey.  The destination will remain the same.  Take the time to explore.  You never know what you might find.

For Nela

I got a message today from one of my nurse/friends in Arizona.  She was having a difficult day until she remembered a poem I wrote for her three years ago.  She has kept a copy of it clipped to her lanyard since I gave it to her.  She told me that on her break she sat in her car, unclipped the paper, and read the poem over and over.  My writing gave her the strength to get through the challenges she was facing.  I wouldn't normally post something I wrote specifically for a friend, but she implored me to post this poem.  She wants me to share these words with all of you.  Thank you for indulging her.

When I was scared and feeling alone
You stood by my side

When I thought all hope was lost
You gave me reason to believe

When I was immersed in darkness
You showed me the light

When I felt trapped within my sadness
You helped me break through

When I no longer felt joy and happiness
You brought my smile back

Your kindness changed my life
And I will forever be grateful

I will never forget the love you showed me
So, always remember

When you need a friend
I will be there for you

Rosie

Holidays are always difficult at the hospital.  Regardless if it's Christmas, Thanksgiving, or Flag Day.  Big or small, these days bring with them reflection, and many memories.  Most patients will do anything in their power to get day, or weekend passes from their doctors.  No one enjoys spending holidays stuck at a medical facility while friends and family are celebrating.  I have mixed emotions when it comes to these days.  Living so far from loved ones, and my husband working at the golf course on the majority of holidays, I frequent the hospital to celebrate with my fellow patients.  Of course, I would rather be partying with healthy individuals, but being there for all those too sick to venture outside of the hospital is very important to me.  Holidays revolve around togetherness, and stepping away from the strain of daily tasks.  We all deserve these breaks, so we can recharge our batteries and relieve building stress.

I tend to spend the most time with the elderly crowd during the holidays.  It tears me apart to see how many elderly patients are alone while receiving their healthcare.  Children and younger adults have a revolving group of visitors at all times, but the older men and women rarely see new faces.  It breaks my heart to see the loneliness they live in, and the sadness in their eyes.  They try to act as though they are happy, but it's easy to see the pain take over them, and to see their hearts sink with each passing visitor.  I know that I am a familiar face in the crowd.  I am not the visitor they are waiting for, but I try my best to help these men and women escape their struggles for a while.  A simple conversation, and a friendly smile can go a long way.

Yesterday being the 4th of July, many people took advantage of the nice weather, and spent the day outdoors.  Cookouts, picnics, pool parties and firework displays could be seen, smelled, and heard for miles.  There are many cancer patients that cannot go outside due to their illness.  While so many were celebrating America outside, I chose to stay indoors reliving memories of past Independence Days.  I had a spectacular time with a few patients who were spending the day at the cancer center with me.  It was natural to ask the small group of men and women at the treatment center about 4th of July celebrations they have attended over the years.  The stories were fascinating.  They spoke of their youth all the way up to present day.  Some of their narrations were simple and others were extremely elaborate.  It was wonderful to see the pain on their faces turn to joy.

One story stuck out to me.  A woman named Rosalyn shared a truly heartwarming story.  She recounted every detail pertaining to 4th of July festivities from her childhood.  She was glowing as she spoke about her family, and the traditions they shared.  The part of her memory that really stuck out to me was when she spoke of her mother's blueberry pie.  They didn't have much money growing up, but her parents would do anything possible to provide homemade blueberry pie and strawberry ice cream for the kids at their annual 4th of July picnic.  As she ended her story, Rosie said this would be the first year she wouldn't have blueberry pie and ice cream on Independence Day.  I could see the sadness come back to her face.  I was determined to end the day on a high note.  I could not let Rosie crawl back into her loneliness.  

After my treatment sessions, and before heading home, I wanted to find a blueberry pie to bring back to Rosalyn.  I knew that the hospital would have strawberry ice cream.  They keep a stockpile at the nurses station.  Neither the cafeteria, or the cafe had blueberry pie, so I had to look elsewhere.  I cannot drive after treatment, so I knew I had to sweet-talk my medi-van driver into making a couple pit-stops on the way home.  Luckily, my driver was one of my regulars.  We have formed a friendship, and he was willing to help me.  I'm not much of a pie person myself, but Walt knew of a surefire place to find the desired dessert.  He even struck a deal with me.  He said he would pay for the pie if he could keep half for himself.  It was a fantastic deal for me.  I wasn't going to eat the pie, so both he and Rosie could benefit from his offer.  We procured the bakery item, and headed back to the hospital.  Walt headed for the cafeteria to get some milk to go with his pie, as I took course towards Rosie's room.  A pit stop at the nurses station to pick up the ice cream was all the stood between Rosie and her 4th of July tradition. She wasn't in her room when I walked through the door.  I began to worry a bit because I was unsure where she might be.  Luckily, she was only a few steps away in the common area playing cards.  I walked right up to Rosie and her friend(also a patient of the hospital)Lily.  I told her that her story very much impacted me, and I wanted to bring her a little piece of her past.  I opened the pastry box to reveal the blueberry pie.  I took the pie out and cut a slice for her and Lily.  Before she could ask about the strawberry ice cream I placed a healthy scoop on her plate.  Tears welled up in her eyes as she thanked me profusely.  Both Rosie and Lily stood up to hug me, and to thank me again.  The tears of joy, and elation in their eyes was all the thanks I needed.  I sat and enjoyed some ice cream with the ladies before I returned home for the evening.  I was pleased to be walking out with a smile on my face and warmth in my heart.

I walked into treatment today, as I would any other day.  Little did I know what was in store for me.  My first stop is always the nurses station.  I check-in with the ladies and obtain my schedule for the day.  Today played out differently.  I was greeted by one of the nurses before reaching the station.  She told me that Rosie wanted to see me as soon as I got to the hospital.  The request was unusual, but not unheard of.  I walked directly to her room.  My mood was immediately altered as I passed through the door.  This Rosie was not the bubbly Rosie I spent time with the day before.  She was weak, and pale.  Her breathing was labored, and she was hooked up to multiple machines.  I could feel the color leave my face when I saw her.  I took a deep breath in order to hold back the tears.  She reached out her hand toward me.  I took it and sat next to her.  She looked deep into my eyes and whispered "thank you".  I asked her what she was thanking me for.  I told her she thanked me more than enough for the pie.  She went on to explain that me bringing that pie to her meant so much more to her than just tasty treat.  Since her diagnosis, Rosie only allowed herself to think about getting better.  She transformed into a completely different version of herself.  She let her cancer dictate her life.  She was unhappy because she didn't see a future for herself, and she didn't allow herself to reminisce about the past.  Those memories were to painful to relive.  The reflections themselves were not painful, but they took her to a place she knew she would never see again.  She pushed them all aside.  After telling me all of this, she explained that my act of kindness yesterday allowed her to unlock those lost memories.  A smile appeared on her face as she explained the happiness she was filled with by once again embracing her past instead of ignoring it.  Rosie held my hand tighter as she thanked me another time for freeing her from her own stubbornness.  What happened next was surreal.  The woman who had been struggling to get the words out between breathing difficulties, and tears the entire time I was sitting with her spoke with total conviction and assertiveness.  She told me her time was up.  She had lived a wonderful life full of beautiful memories, and her life had completed its circle because of the freedom I gave her.  The last thing Rosie told me was that I needed to hold on.  I had many more memories to make, and to share.  She made me promise.  I promised her I would hold on, and keep fighting.  I wholeheartedly made this promise to a truly lovely woman.  As soon as those words escaped my lips Rosie took her last breath.  Her hand went limp inside of mine.  Rosie was gone.  I placed her hand softly on the bed, and prayed for her to be taken care of in the afterlife.  I slowly made my way into the hallway and collapsed in tears.  I realized in that moment that life is a sacred gift.  We only get one chance to make it something we can be proud of.   

Saved

I get asked the same question day-after-day.  "Do you ever feel like giving up"?  My answer has always been.  "Of course".  I have never met anyone who enjoys, or chooses to be sick.  Be it the common cold, or a serious, life-threating illness.  Feeling less than 100% can turn anyone's life upside down.  Luckily, most people start feeling better after a day, or two.  When illness completely consumes your life, and the timeline of said sickness turns to months, and/or years, it's difficult to continue fighting.  It becomes harder and harder to remain positive, and to not entertain the idea of throwing in the towel.  

I believe the most challenging part of having cancer is how it affects those around me.  I am not a typical 28 year old girl.  I can't work, and I often have to cancel plans, or decline invitations due to my health.  Up until I was diagnosed with such an awful disease, I was a social butterfly.  I have always loved being around people at parties, events, or at lunch with a friends.  Interaction with family and friends is extremely important to me.  These interactions, like many other aspects of my life were put through the ringer as a result of my changing lifestyle.  After my first diagnosis four years ago, my social life got pushed aside.  Healthcare, and my illness became my main focus.  I lost many friends because I was no longer the girl they knew.  The person inside of me didn't change, but I could no longer live life as a carefree 24 year old.  It was evident that I was unable to attend as many social gatherings as I did before learning of my cancer.  Most of my friends did not understand the gravity, and seriousness of my diagnosis.  I was forging along a much different path than most 24 year old.  I would be lying if I said that it didn't cause me a lot of emotional distress.  I was mourning the loss of my friends, and embarking upon a difficult new chapter in my life.  Many ties were severed, but those who truly love me stood behind me, and remain supportive as I continue on this journey.  

The strength of my family and friends who have been traveling along this road with me, is incredible.  I know that it is far from easy to contend with all of my health issues.  It is amazing knowing that no matter what time of day, or how busy they may be, those closest to me will drop everything to be by my side.  Over these past four years, I have witnessed the absolute power, and strength of love.  Seeing the pain on the faces of those around me as I go through treatments, surgeries, procedures, and everyday difficulties of life is heartbreaking.  I hate seeing my loved ones hurting.  On the other hand, every challenge they endure with me comes with reward.  They are right there by my side as I clear each hurdle thrown my way.  Seeing the smiles on their faces, and hearing the joy in their voices is unbelievably heartwarming.  Knowing I have people around me who will dig me out of my lowest of lows, and celebrate every high with me is more than I could ever ask for.  

I continue to mourn the loss of friendships over the years, but I no longer let the sadness consume me.  It is as much their loss, as it is mine.  I will reminisce about the happiness shared with them, but that is all.  I cannot live in the past.  That will get me nowhere.  I will move forward, living in the moment, and embracing the day with those most important to me.  Whether they know it, or not, my family and friends keep me jumping through the many hoops my illness throws at me.  I would be lost without them because, everyday they save my life.