Wednesday, February 24, 2016

Spring Will Come

Today we did a three-mile walk with hills. We were huffing and puffing but moving at a pretty good pace. As we made the turn to come back home I said to John, “Do you remember that summer after your first surgery; you could not walk from our front door to the car.” And he remembered.

It’s a shock still, how that cutting into flesh and being sewn back together took away so much strength so fast. He looked the same but could not walk at all.

Now we hike and do hills and we push each other on.

That summer of chemo changed so many things. No movies, no malls, no grocery stores. Even a tiny bit of air-conditioned air caused excruciating pain and frozen breath. He couldn’t even look in the refrigerator so I had to learn to cook. That was one of the gifts of Cancer Land—I became a cook. But that summer when it all began was so shocking and crazy. 

I think about this today as we hike and run and dress for a dinner out. So many things changed. We grew from them and with them. I know that isn’t everyone’s path. Cancer can end a relationship as well. It can be too much. And no one gets blamed for that. It can just be too dam hard sometimes. So what I feel tonight is gratitude and grace.

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