Swaying

It feels like a millenium since I have posted a blog! I love my blog and how it connects me with those of you reading, but there are times I feel like a chocolate mess; incapable of telling you how I feel. With that said, there is no excuse to leave you hanging. I want to update you where I left off...

The day after my biopsy I got a fever and was admitted. We also got news that the preliminary resutls of the biopsy showed "signs of suppressed cell lines". I shrugged it off. I was already drowning in emotion after being admitted. Little did I know everyone around me was losing sleep; afraid the MDS was back. About a week later, we asked if the final results had come in. Dr. Adams used the words, "perfect biopsy". We burst into tears. There was some miscommunication the first time we heard the news. The confusion lied in the fact that my marrow had 30% cellularity. That basically means there aren't as many cells as there should be. However, I am on immune suppression. DUH! No wonder there were signs of suppression. The doctors said eventually my marrrow will have a higher cellularity, not necessarily a normal level, but extremely healthy for what I've gone through. Praise the Lord. It's like I can breathe again. MDS is no longer my biggest fear. It is just a reminder that anything is possible.

Christmas and New Years were wonderful. I got released from the hospital the night before Christmas Eve. My family from Oklahoma and Missouri came for a visit. Plus my dear Allan came home from college. Christmas is my favorite holiday. There wasn't a day without laughter, dancing, too many carbs, and music. This year was special in the fact that one short year ago I was inside room 203 at Phoenix Children's Hospital receiving a second chance at life. It was also our first Christmas without my Granpda. It was a season full of gratitude, remembrance, and love.

I have been dealing with a lot of anger and resentment. I struggle with questions like "Why isn't this over?", "Why am I still in pain?", and a million others. I feel so guilty when I think how little my pain is compared to those who have lost their loved ones. However, I am learning that pain is pain, and in order to move on I have to embrace it. When I feel vulnerable, I turn away from my friends and family. I shut the world out and try and process it alone for fear of being weak. Each time I find that sometimes being strong means letting yourself feel vulnerable. No one can do it alone. (I hope this explains the unanswered texts, voicemails, and Facebook messages.) I could go from smiling to crying in an instant. I never expected the days after my transplant would be the most difficult. One day, I was fed up and I went shopping (masked of course). It was silly and rebellious. I loved every minute of it. All along, I've been waiting for everything to return to "normal". However, I am learning that we each take our own path and that there is beauty in each moment. "Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain."

Here I am, swaying to the music.