Personal Journey Entry # 53

I took some time a week or so ago and read every article that I wrote documenting the last trip around the sun for Shay and me. I have no problem admitting that I cried as I read my own words, but some of what I read seemed surreal. We went through hell together as one procedure after another went awry, and we were unsure if we would ever get a grip on the cancer invading my body. The human body is an incredible machine, and it has a way of clearing the memory of bad experiences. Sitting here today, relatively healthy except for a heart that cannot beat to the right tune, I sometimes feel like I was a spectator to someone else’s journey. I feel great. The treatments destroyed the cancer. I had to give up the job I loved, but that is a small price to pay to wake up each morning with Shay, Jazzee, and Luna and look forward to what the day will bring our way. Life is sweet, and I have my friends and their prayers to thank for that, and Jesus Christ, whom I surrendered to a year ago today. He has given me a second chance at life, and I am waiting for what he wants me to do with the next chapters of my new life. My eyes and ears are open in anticipation of the signal he will give me.

Our lives were given a jolt a year ago, as Dr. Tompkins told us she had concerns about what she saw during my routine endoscopy. A week went by before we received the official word that I had Esophageal Cancer. After more than ten surgeries and procedures, chemo and radiation treatments, my body is intact, I still have my esophagus, a little trouble swallowing, and, though I cannot sleep at night, I can fall asleep without notice, regardless of what I am doing during the day. That is why I can no longer drive a school bus. But, I am excited as I prepare to start my new career and business as a bookkeeper. At 72, I am not ready to settle into the retirement rocker on the front porch of our Highland home to watch the sun set. There is still work to be done.

I do not dismiss how fortunate and lucky I am. Last year, I was looking at stats that said I might have five more years on earth, and now those stats are useless. Remission is another word for being reborn, and I am ready for whatever the future holds for us. This journey is not about me, it never has been. Shay and I are a team. We fought and prayed together, and we were a bit unfazed a few weeks ago when Dr. Boland told us the journey was over and we had won. We never doubted the outcome. It was never a case of if we beat cancer, but when cancer would give up its fight.

We have to be very diligent going forward, and the scopes will be done more frequently. Having my esophagus means there is always a chance of another round. We will be ready if that ever happens, but today we celebrate life. Today, the sunset is a little more beautiful. We have a lot of living ahead of us, so let’s get to it.

We thank you and love you for all your prayers and support. Each of you is in our prayers, too, and we ask God to bless you and wrap his arms around you. Enjoy every day, life is so worth living.