Eight years ago I was thrown a curve ball. I was diagnosed with a life threatening cancer with very low survival rates. The internet told me my chances were not good. I had always been healthy. When I walked into the local emergency room looking fit as a fiddle docs did not seem too concerned. Once the grapefruit sized tumor that I had discovered was seen, things changed. At that moment, I was changed too. It was surreal that this was happening to me. I was walking in a dream state, a nightmare. As an ex nurse I had enough medical knowledge to know that I was in trouble and uncertainty was going to be my sidekick. I also knew that I was refusing a biopsy. However, I did give total permission once the tumor was removed. Since it was determined that the rest of my liver was healthy, I became a surgical candidate. In a week, it was gone and I had been blessed. After my surgery I searched long and hard for other survivors but they were few and far between. My oncologist warned me not to look for others as there would not be many. I have since come to know there are other survivors and our numbers are growing. We can survive the odds and come out victorious. I used to roll my eyes with annoyance as folks filmed or wrote their “cancer” stories. I used to cringe when I had to go to appointments and see the eyes of the hopeful and sick in the waiting rooms. So much so that I made sure I had early morn appointments. It is necessary to tell our stories, to look into the eyes of others and see their pain and fear. We turn our heads a lot like an ostrich in the sand hoping bad things won’t happen to us. We think maybe if we don’t look, or stand close or touch, it will not affect us. We all have stories that live within us and they need to be freed so their words can heal like a balm. Many times curve balls make us reach out a little further.
A curve ball
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