My Healing Planet

Hello World,

I am not sure who reads these and if it really helps anyone but I assure you from time to time it helps me to write. This how I feel about it all. This is where I am today.

I have  scans next week and that will be a large indication if I am closing in on the end of options for  me and fighting this cancer with western medicine. I could rant about healthcare and cancer organizations but I know that it is not useful or helpful so I won’t. I can let you know that if I had not been so involved in my treatment and  monitoring my scans and results and protocols and recommendations and billing and  what is ordered I would be bankrupt or dead or both.

I am grateful today that I am here and I am still kicking sometimes a slow rumble and sometimes a loud crack and sometimes a whisper but I am here.

What do I want to say? I want to say that I believe  it is my sprit that keeps me alive and  knowing I am loved and  have a purpose here. The irony is the people I thought  would be  by side are not and those I had not expected to be by my side are and I have various angels who are always entering my life.

I try imagine myself as an old woman but I cannot because I am trying to stay here in the present it helps me to do that otherwise the emotional pain becomes too intense especially thinking about my daughter. I ask myself what do I need to do to feel exhilarated in my life and honestly just being able to ask myself that question exhilarates me.

Be here now…be here…..this is what matters.

Today- I am alive in all ways…more than I can articulate more than I myself can fathom. It is not with my body that I write  by  from my soul and with its arms I will always reach for the light-and your love. 

In Peace-

Becky

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chilliest land
And on the strangest sea,
Yet never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.-Emily Dickinson