This I Believe
No doubt about it, I’ve had a heck of a year. A sudden eruption of breast cancer; a quick mastectomy; six months of chemo; a stroke; full recovery from that and now heart failure. My heart isn’t working. One of its hinges came loose. It might fix itself over time, but it hasn’t yet. I believe it will. I don’t “firmly” believe this or insist on defying the odds. I just think I’ll be fine.
Believe me, my conscience bothered me when I caught myself rolling with the punches. The stroke made me furious, I’ll admit, but it wasn’t that bad. Chemo wasn’t that bad. The hair loss was actually pretty much fun. I love being bald and I’ve gotten so many flowers, I considered giving out vases for Halloween. I get to take naps. I feel pretty darn good.
My doctors, who greatly outnumber me, tell me I’m not well. That kind of talk brings me down, so I listen to myself. If my heart was really broken, I’d be miserable. All I need is three key ingredients: My husband hasn’t left me, I can walk the length of a grocery store aisle, and music still makes the world go ‘round.
Thanksgiving has come and gone. The mister and I had a talk about second mastectomy and heart stuff, what to do. He says it’s all up to me. Doesn’t care if I have breasts or not. Well, neither do I. My next husband obviously won’t care either. This I believe.
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