As I’ve shared, dealing with cancer – even a relatively minor bit – isn’t awesome.
If it’s a big deal, it’s things like radiation and chemo. If it’s a minor thing (like mine was), it’s outpatient surgery. (And testing and surgery and testing and thankyouLorditsfinallyallgone!).
But even in the midst of the not-awesome – be it extreme or not extreme – I can promise you that you’ll see plenty of AWESOME.
It looks a lot like:
- Text messages from friends and coworkers
- Stories to encourage you from those who’ve experienced the same thing
- Customized playlists of girl-power songs from coworkers
- Emails from the only-talk-to-once-in-a-while folks, just to check on me
- The surprise gift (hmmm…who is it from?) of an electric wine bottle opener (opening anything uses my shoulder)
- Quiet phone conversations before launching into business calls
- Facebook messages (because you felt brave enough to write about how you were really feeling deep inside)
- Notes and prayers from friends who are dealing with far worse versions of the c-word
- Your husband grabbing bags and doors and piles of laundry and squirming affectionate kitties
- The gentlest of hugs from friends
I’m often told I’m too much of an optimist. I’m too cheerful. Too eager to see the glass as half-full.
Maybe that’s true.
But in my optimistic, too cheerful, glass half-full world, there’s an abundance of awesome.
And awesome will help you endure with grace and dignity.