Truly Blessed

I have been keeping up with my friend, Bonnie's, fight against leukemia through her blog site. I have not been able to visit her (or even talk with her) since she was admitted to the hospital -- I have either felt too ill myself or she has not been feeling well and not taking visitors or phone calls. And so I have resigned myself to staying connected, even in the smallest way, by checking her blog religiously. Unfortunately, I read yesterday that she has contracted a fungal infection in her lungs. This is not really surprising since she has practically zero white blood cells (my count was "1.5" -- which was the very low end of normal -- and hers is apparently ".01".) She has been in the hospital now for 27 days and, any day now, her body is supposed to start making white blood cells again. Needless to say, we are all hoping and praying that her new white blood cells will be strong enough to knock this crap out of this infection, but in the meantime, the infection (and the drugs to relieve her pain) have completely zapped her energy. Apparently, she is saving all of her strength for visits from her husband and two daughters, which I can completely understand.

As I sit here now thinking about Bonnie, I can't help but look at my life through an entirely different lens. I have no right to complain about anything; I am blessed. Yes, the chemo is doing wacky things to my body and completely knocking me out every other week, but at least I get to be "knocked out" in the comfort of my own home, surrounded by my family, within earshot of my children's laughter. During my bad days, I might stay in bed all day but I am able to snuggle under warm, fresh-smelling blankets, surrounded by all the things which make my house my home. And at night -- even on my bad days -- I am able to tuck my children into bed and hear their last thoughts for the day, and smell their sweet, fresh-from-the-bath "children smells", and feel the softness of their jammies against my cheek, and share in their prayers. And I am able to crawl into my own bed and snuggle up next to my amazing husband. Sometimes we talk and he offers me words of encouragement and wisdom or he makes me laugh with his goofy sense of humor and sometimes we just close our eyes and fall asleep. Either way, I am able to rest more soundly knowing that he is next to me. And in the morning, I awake to the sounds of birds chirping outside my bedroom window or to the sound of my children scurrying around outside my bedroom door as they begin the day. And this is what happens on my bad days. On my good days -- like today -- life is almost normal again. I am able to go to the farmer's market and take a long walk through the hills and pick blackberries with my kids. Were it not for a couple minor, lingering symptoms I could almost pretend that my life was no different than the other Mill Valley moms on days like this. But, most importantly, on good days like this the skies are clear and I can almost see to the very top of my mountain. And I know that once I get there, life will be normal again (or at least as normal as life can be after cancer.) And so I realize that I have no right to complain. In this wacky, crazy life of mine, I am truly blessed.