Life Matters

Today was a great day. Here's why: I can no longer eat solid food, just soft stuff. I cannot wear a bra anymore, and I can barely walk ten feet without help and support. I'm seeing old friends to say final goodbyes, and haven't been to church in over a month. Also, I cannot walk down to the river anymore. So what's so great about all that?

Come on people. You know me. For starters, I never have to face another lima bean in my life, hallelujah, and no solids is the perfect legit excuse to turn down meat, thank you very much. (I live with meat lovers.) And mashed potatoes, chicken broth, pudding and shakes are just my cup of tea. So far I'm loving my current diet. I'll let you know if that changes.

Next, women, you probably get it, but men...? have you ever had to hold yourself together with fitted elastic and metal? No? I didn't think so. A tumor is growing between my ribs in the breast area and it just plain hurts there, so goodbye bras. Fitted athletic camis that I'd not be caught dead in out in public (though many females wear them to jog in, gag me) are perfect for me now. Comfortable, soft and I have them already. Pull on a tee or sweater and I'm good to go. And I look the same.

I cannot walk far, but - and I know this one is silly - I get to use a wheelchair! Steve can push me down to the river and hopefully not into it. I've got to trust him on this one. Hospice is providing one for us. Yea!

Saying goodbye to old friends means (duh) we are seeing all our old friends. Need I say more?

Not going to church is a bit tougher, but I have been able to watch two live online sermons from Morgan's church. What a delight to see how she usually worships. And we've taken the opportunity to listen to some fabulous music with it that while not of the "Christian genre" is absolutely beautiful (and probably better). Godly, maybe?

So, for some people this life might suck, but as usual, for me, it's just fine. See, you work with what you have. My beautiful sister-in-law lost three of her fingers in childhood. Still, she plays the piano, cooks, drives, sews, talks with her hands like we all do.... you know, acts normal. If she can do that, I can do this. I've lost parts of my body, most of my strength, and all of my energy. I'm in pain and have no reprieve. But I can live each day as though it still matters, because it does.