All my life, I've had a tough-as-nails persona. I have been mouthy, sarcastic, and bold as a lion at times, and I have even been told that I can be intimidating. But deep inside, I often felt as timid, scared, and shy as a church mouse. That's right, not just any old run-of-the-mill mouse, but a church mouse. Geez, do I have to be extra even in this analogy?
Can you guess which of these three pictures is the real me? ⬇️
I was very fortunate to be born into a family where swearing was not a thing. In fact, if you heard foul language coming from someone in my house, you knew something really bad must have happened. We were taught as kids never to say the "F" word. For years, I never even knew what the actual "F" word was.
I'm not sure; there must be a foul language gene that skips a generation. When it skipped a generation in my family, I think it did a big old belly flop and landed smack dab right on top of me. My verbiage can be very "colorful", to say the least. I'm working on it, don't give up on me, guys. I'll get there.
Little did I know that over the years I would become very well acquainted with the real "F" word, and that word is fear. Fear is a far more foul word than any other four-letter word I could ever think of. When my husband got sick, fear started to creep into my life. Fear of just about everything, even fear of being afraid, if that makes sense.
I've always been a kind of high-strung person, someone who can go from 0 to 60 faster than the speed of light. But for the most part, I managed to keep it under control. When I realized my husband was dying, I had no control. I started suffering from crippling anxiety. I would have panic attacks. I ended up in the ER more times than I care to think about. It was the most stressful and sad time of my life. It did not take me long to realize I had to pull myself together; he needed me. I needed me. I did everything I could, from hypnotherapy to meditation, to get some peace back in my life.
During the time of my husband's illness, I was also starting to experience some health issues. I put those on the back burner, but after he passed, I realized I needed to address them. I consulted with my doctor and was sent for a myriad of tests.
After his memorial service, I held a small luncheon for our family, and during it, I received a text saying my test results were in. I nonchalantly checked my phone, read what it said, closed it, and finished my lunch.
As I said goodbye to everyone and walked to my car. I opened the door and sat down. I took a deep breath, took my phone out, opened it to the same message, and read the entire thing.The test revealed I had a mass in my sternum.
I sat there for what seemed like an eternity, in reality it was probably only a few minutes. The silence was deafening. I don't know if I'm the only person who's ever come to a crossroads in their life in the parking lot of an Outback Steakhouse but if I am, I'm perfectly OK with that.
The thing about it is my grandparents died within three days of each other, and my aunt and uncle passed away with a month and a half of each other. And fear, being as insidious as it is was swiftly in my mind that maybe I was going to die too relatively quickly after my husband.
At that moment, I knew that I had to make a choice. I had to decide whether to panic and go to the worst-case scenario like I've done many times in my life, or was I going to pause and give it to God. I knew I had to give it to God, and that's exactly what I did.
I didn't stress, and I didn't obsess. I was scheduled to have a biopsy, and I went to York Hospital to have it done. It was supposed to be a CT-guided biopsy, but because of the location of the mass, they could not do it without fear of puncturing a lung or doing some type of internal damage. So I left there with really no more answers than I had to start with. But still, I purposed in my heart I would not fear something I could not control. I had given it to God, and I left it with him.
I followed up with the doctor, and they said, " You know, we're just gonna have to keep our eye on it. It looked like it had gotten a little bit smaller, so I waited. I followed up six months later, and it seemed a little bit smaller still. They said again "We'll just keep our eye on it." And I have continued to live my life not giving that news any power over my life.
Two weeks ago, I had to have a biopsy done on my thyroid. I have had thyroid issues for the last 15 years. Lets be honest you have never experienced anxiety until you're lying on a table and a doctor is inserting a needle into your neck and twisting it 4 separate times, hoping to get enough cells to tell you if you have cancer or not. Yesterday I got the results, and it was negative. No cancer cells.
This evening, I spent a couple of hours at the hospital with a friend of mine, whose husband was recently diagnosed with a terminal illness. I sat in the room with her as he slept. We spoke in whispers, not wanting to wake him. I looked at him, and my heart cried. It was so quiet, yet grief in the air enveloped us like a blanket.
I have so much in life to be grateful for, and I am. When I wake up tomorrow morning and open my eyes, the first thing out of my mouth is going to be, " Thank you, God, for another day." It should be the first thing out of all of our mouths, honestly.
Life is so fleeting and we forget that. Nothing is promised and we should not forget that either. Maybe when u get up in the morning give God a little thumbs up, a wave, a hey thanks. An attitude of gratitude makes all the difference in the world