What a long strange trip its been...In Eric Formans basement

 I haven't been myself in a long time. There has been much dis ease in me for the past 2 years. I sacrificed... a part of myself for something I thought would last forever. For a version of myself that I didn't even like because I thought that's who I had to be. I thought I had to cheat life and cut this corner to live the life I thought I wanted. Now I don't think I want any of those things. I was so intent on living that life that when my body tried to tell me something wasn't right, I completely shut it out and ignored it. It took nothing short of drowning in my own body to ask for help. To be willing to acknowledge what was happening.

I am going through the experience of having Hodgkin's lymphoma. It's kinda funny in a way, to get something that seems so big and scary and bad but in the most curable form.

I spent 24 days in the hospital. I was in the ICU for 2 weeks of that time. I went in on Sunday and when I woke up it was Friday. I remember little glimpses of that week but it's all fuzzy. Like a dream you try to remember after you've woken up. I now have scars from biopsies and IVs I don't remember getting. I remember the guy that talked to me about doing chemo kept saying my name wrong and it really pissed me off. I communicated by sharpie and paper on a clipboard for weeks because I was intubated for 10 days, and then all the  days after because my vocal chords were too weak to talk. My voice is still a hoarse whisper.

I'll never forget the people that took care of me. The nurse that gave me my first bath since the icu thought she was hurting me because I just sat there crying, but I was just so grateful for the hot water she poured over me. It overwhelmed me with appreciation for what these people do. They must be saints or angels or something lovely along those lines.
I found parts of myself I hadn't seen in a long time while I had nothing to do but sit in my hospital bed.
I remembered how to laugh.
I remembered how much I love to read.
I remembered who I wanted to be... before.
And I remembered how wonderful a gift it is to be able to nourish my body with food and drink.
In those 24 days they only let me go outside once. And now I cherish the sun and the rain on my skin even more than I did before.
I almost cried for joy again when they told me I could walk to the bathroom by myself.
I never imagined this would happen to me. This isn't how I planned this out in my head. But. Here I am. And I'm so fucking grateful.

My chemo doctor reminds me of Mr. Rodgers. He came to see me every morning I was in the ICU when I decided to go through this treatment. All I could do was nod my head while he talked to me. And every time before he left he would pat me on the head or the shoulder, smile and tell me they were going to take care of me. Ever since I first saw him I trusted him. I can't say I felt that for any of the other doctors there. But I trusted myself and my body, or rather I learned while I was there that I could trust myself again.
My business is life, not death.

I missed my little brother more than I thought possible. And we should probably go ahead and put my parents and grandma on the list of saints and angels too.
I cried the day I got home and saw my dog for the first time. I was gone so long I even started to miss the cats.
I don't think about the things I thought about when I was sick anymore. Like work, or moving out or getting married. I think about how green the leaves on the trees outside my window are. What I'm going to eat for breakfast. How good it feels to feel my body coming back to life after so many long months of being hollow and sad. If a simple thank you will ever feel like enough, because so far it doesn't.
I'm passed the point of no return now.
But I can finally see the other shore ahead.