Dear Legs,
There've been a few times in my almost 54 years when there was talk of letting the left one
of you go.
The first time was when cancer was discovered in my 15-year old body and my "NO" was
adamant. Smiling softly as my actual words to the orthopedist were "If I'm dying in 6 months,
I'm taking my leg with me!"
My new-to-me oncologist had said "the bone cancer you have is one that grows very fast and
if we don't start you on chemo right away, you won't make it 6 months." While I know he
never would have gone against my wishes, something I still deeply appreciate about him to
this day, in hindsight, I don't believe he would've agreed to my NO "as easily" if he didn't
think it wise. Instead, I believe he knew that my fierce tenacity would be an important key
in helping me to survive. ❤️
And the last time, 28 years ago, the raging infection was *so* bad, that third round of infection
since my cancer as a teen. I was 26, had been in the hospital for 3 months starting just 3 weeks
after we got married, all a short 8 months after I had moved 21 hours away from my entire
family and the only life I had known. I was feeling so discouraged and depressed that I
seriously considered letting go for a very short while.
Hands down, the hardest time in my life.
Thank God for the loving angels gathered around me, in particular my sweet husband and a few
dear ministers. Their kind & willing presence, patient empathy, & wise words helped me know
that, while things were certainly dire, they weren't life threatening and, at that point, it would
have been a sacrifice I would deeply regret. . . forever.
And sure enough, being home with my darlin' hubby and taking lots of soul soothing baths
(I am a water baby for sure), in time the big, bad infection subsided.
The only remnants are my left leg is about 8" shorter than my right and I have some pretty big
battle scars on the outside of my left thigh. But then it was a pretty big battle.
And between you and a little help from my crutch friends, Bert and Ernie? I get along just fine.
I am so grateful to still have both of you, dear legs.
So, *so* deeply grateful.
Blessed be.
❤️
#aprillove2016
Edited on 4/25/16 to add:
As I read back over my words this evening I wanted to clarify something that feels really important.
I was still on antibiotics when I went home and closely monitored because my infection was very, very serious. To give you an idea, my doctor at Emory (a big, well-known teaching hospital here in Atlanta), who traveled the world teaching doctors how to treat big time infections, said that mine was the second worst he'd ever seen.
So when they sent me home, I knew the deal was that if things took a turn for the worst, I would need to come right back into the hospital. I was just so deeply grateful and profoundly relieved for the doctors willingness to let me try to just be at *home* for a while.
Still, she says with a soft smile. . . there's not a doubt in my mind that the love of my dear hubby, being home, and the baths in my own tub helped to soothe and heal my broken spirit for sure. I believe *in my bones* that this is what helped me (finally) to turn the corner.
❤️
. * .
