Feeling Alien

It's truly a bizarre sensation to feel as though I don't belong in my own body. Normally on a spectacularly beautiful June weekend I would arise filled with joy and have a day full of anticipated activities and expectations.

I was able to get up for a short while this morning and actually ate something. But staring at my image in the mirror I see gaunt reflections of myself with bruises, and scars that are unfamiliar and strange. I feel full of sorrow that my dear husband is strapped with this infirmity in almost the same way I am. Not that he shares that sorrow except that he hates to see me suffer. Illness is an alien experience in that I am removed from so much that I hold dear. I am reminded of my tears upon driving out of our driveway the day we left for Hippocrates Institute knowing that somehow all would be different from that day forward. With each death you experience in illness there is a desire that there will be a resurrection on the other side. I'm realizing that some deaths will remain losses forever, I can only pray they are deaths that are meant to perish. I pray that I can let them go with hands that can then take up only the resurrections I am meant to receive anew and freely release the old that is being torn away.

These are difficult things, all dying is hard, and I pray I cling only to the life that is meant for me. I pray that God will renew the "years" the locusts have eaten. Grateful for my dear husband and precious family and for those who will read these words and remember to pray for me again.

It's just so easy to question whether or not this is the right path when I feel SO horrible. The oncology nurses remind me that this is a short term difficulty for a long term goal, I pray that it might be so. I need courage. To life anew!