Near Death Experience, But Still Fighting
Dear friends, family and new subscribers,
I had a pulmonary embolism at the end of May, 6 weeks before I was set to start chemo for my bone marrow transplant. I was in the hospital for 9 days. I got home yesterday and I truly feel more fragile than I ever have before, like every step could dislodge another DVT and kill me. That each bite of the donuts that comfort me will feed possible tumors inside me. That every unit of insulin that I give will lower my blood sugar to the point where I am comatose and near death. I’ve never been so shaken up or scared and I mean, jeez, there’s a reason my newsletter is entitled Nine Lives. This is not my first near death experience!
Yet it feels different this time.
I’m worried I’ve exhausted my share of miracles. And I’m so scared that I have no protection left, that I have no bulletproof vest, no weapons in the midst of this escalating war.
It would be a convenient time for me to lean on a faith in a higher power and that is not where I feel called to, anyway. I have faith in science, sort of. In my family, yes. Friends as well. Though—if you look closely at the journey of dying, you see that eventually it’s just you, alone. No matter how much love I’m surrounded with. It comes down to me versus death and disease. And I’m battle weary. And I’m relying on a miracle.
But I’m certain sending prayers and good wishes can only do good. So I welcome them. And I thank all of you who sent gifts off my registry. It brightens my day every time I open a DM, or a text, or a ubiquitous Amazon package full of soft hats and lounge wear and Twizzlers. Loneliness is the hardest part of life-limiting illness. But many of you distract me and keep me safe. And so I thank you.
With all my love and gratitude, Kelly
Please share if you feel inspired.