It feels ironic to me that each time my health throws me a curve ball my response is “time to adjust my sails again”. I have adjusted so many times, I have simply lost count. Focusing on being flexible and willing to try new directions (a.k.a. meds) with my doctor has afforded me more time than we originally thought.
These sails I refer to are tattered but with constant care and mending, I keep sailing by. What feels ironic is that this time it is the wind itself that has failed me. The air that I breathe. The cancer snuck into my lungs and tried to steal my air.
My lungs remind me when I am frightened, “just take a long, deep breathe and everything will turn out okay”. For so long I chose to focus on my sails but not what kept them moving me forward.
But what happens when the air isn’t there anymore. Or, the air is stagnant? Then what do I do? Where is my comfort in knowing that a simple deep breath can and will get me through every single procedure, scan, needle, and fear?
I feel odd now, yet a little bit special to even have air in my lungs at the moment. In 52 years of life I have never really even thought much about that. Have you?
Placing value on air is new. Deep breathe in.