Note To Self: Believe

For every fear that threatens my sense of peace
For every sleepless night
For every moment my body feels broken
There is an Angel that whispers “I am here”

I’ve always believed in a higher power. In God. In Heaven and Saints and Angels. I’ve always had faith and believed in miracles and I believe that someone, somewhere in heaven listens to my prayers. I don’t need even know if they qualify as prayers, necessarily – but they listen none-the-less.

When I was first diagnosed, I immediately turned to these higher powers. It was my natural instinct to ask God and various saints and all my loved ones in heaven (my angels), to protect me, to help me, to keep me strong and to help me find the purpose in the cross I’ve been given to bear. He’s listening…they all are.

I know this, because, as crazy as it sounds, since my diagnosis, since the moment I collapsed to my knees moments after hearing that I had cancer, and called out to my Grandmother in heaven, I feel Angels around me all the time. There is a certain energy that surrounds me that I never quite felt before. It’s remarkable really. Even in my scariest, lowest moments, there is a peace that surrounds me, envelopes me like a hug and although its not a physical hug, I feel it, somehow.

My Grandmother passed 19 years ago. The last time I saw her alive was the day before she died. That is, until 3 nights ago…

I always have trouble falling asleep the night before chemo. Actually, I have trouble sleeping every night, but especially Monday nights. Tossing and turning has become a nightly ritual – I guess that happens when one is in the midst of an epic battle. Don’t get me wrong, I’m tired – alot! But, it’s almost as though I’ve become so used to fighting from the inside out, that I inadvertently fight against sleep too. Monday night was exceptionally sleepless. I was excited because I had been told that after reacting so well to my first two chemo treatments, I wouldn’t have to take pre-chemo meds for round 3. This meant that my treatment would be two hours shorter. AMAZING! I’M A ROCKSTAR! I’M KICKING ASS! Round 3 would be a breezy 2.5 hours. So, naturally, I was revved up and so, it took me a bit longer to settle down on Monday night. Finally, two movies and three TED talks later, I dozed off.

My dream that night was so vivid. I was standing under the portrait of my Grandfather (who also passed) that hangs on the wall in my family room. I was surrounded by my entire army of earth-angels who were crying around me, and the room was so bright, I could barely keep my eyes open. Then, from behind me, a shadow began to rise, dimming the brightness of the room. The shadow was actually my Grandmother, floating above me on the most incredible, beautiful wings, spanning the entire length of the room. Everyone stared at her, stunned and gasping. She placed her hand on my forehead and in that moment I woke up. I lay frozen in my bed, eyes wide open, and felt – saw – my Grandmother’s hand caress my head and face. I clasped her hand, holding on until I fell asleep again.

Later that night, I also dreamed that Mark’s Dad, who passed 14 years ago wrapped his arms around me, squeezing me so gently – as though to say “I’m here too”.

I woke up Tuesday morning feeling a sense of peace and calm. I knew that whatever the day had in store for me, I would be ok. My Grandmother was with me – My Guardian Angel. She was with me.

And oh, how I needed her with me.

Round 3 of chemo was a rough one. Without the pre-meds, I suffered an allergic reaction to the chemo drugs. The most excruciating pain ripped through my chest right to my back. Sharp as knife, I doubled over in pain, my heart felt like it was about to explode and waves of nausea rocked through me. It was the scariest moment I’ve experienced so far. Within minutes, I was surrounded by quick-acting nurses who stopped the chemo drip and administered a heavy dose of Benadryl through my IV. This, for the record, felt like an actual fire coursing through my veins at lightening speed. The whole episode lasted less than 10 minutes and before I knew it, I was drifting off into a medicated slumber. The last thing I saw before falling asleep was Mark, standing at the foot of my bed, and next to him, a blurry shadow of a man. His Guardian Angel was with him too.

I’m happy to report that my heart wasn’t damaged during the allergic reaction and so, after a break, I was able to finish round 3. It was a long hard fight, but I won!

I realize now that both my Grandmother and Mark’s Dad visited me to remind me of their presence in my life as I face the various struggles that present themselves throughout my journey. They came to me to tell me that I am never alone. I understand that this may sound far-fetched to some. Maybe you might argue that it’s all in my head – that I’m nuts to believe that I actually saw my Grandmother and touched her flesh. You could argue that the shadow standing next to Mark was just the meds making me hallucinate. Maybe you’re right. Yes, the doctors and nurses treated me. Medicine healed my body, but, my Angels – they treat my fears, every night. They heal my soul.

I need to feel Angels around me. I must have faith in the power of prayer. I choose to trust that miracles happen. It’s as integral to my survival as the medicine that flows through me.

That’s what I believe.