This photo was taken last year on September 11 right after I blew out the candles on my 34th birthday. This was taken right around the time I started noticing that food was getting stuck in my chest when I tried to swallow, but, attributing it to minor heart-burn, I was unaware of what life had in store for me. All I knew was that I had the love of my life with me and I couldn’t have been happier. I even remember my wish. I wished that Mark and I would get married and live a beautiful life together. Thankfully, I’m still on track to see that wish come true.
This Friday I will celebrate my 35th birthday. Even as I write that, I break down in tears. God knows that there were moments this past year that I thought, genuinely thought, I wouldn’t see another birthday.
There were so many times, during treatment and after my surgery when everything in me hurt. Times when my mind was as tired and as worn out as my body was and everything in me ached and yearned for a just a moment of peace, for a minute of feeling pain-free. It was during those times when I doubted that I could do it anymore. I fleetingly wondered if I was strong enough to endure the pain, both physically and mentally. So, in the back of mind, I prepared for the worst.
I hoped for, I prayed for and I expected the best, but I always prepared for the worst.
I had endless pages of secret notes and lists – what I wanted my funeral to be like, who I would leave all my possessions to, how I wanted everyone to move forward with their lives. I had letters written to everyone I love so that they remember what they mean to me. I even wrote letters to friends of mine who after 10+ years of friendship, made the decision to not be part of my life while I was fighting. I wanted to let them know that despite their absence in my life, I would take all the great memories we made together with me. I wrote to Mark – His letter is too private to even give you a glimpse into, but I can say that writing his letter was the most difficult thing I have ever written.
I’ve always been a planner and so, although I planned on surviving and getting married to my earth-angel, I knew that like every great plan, I must have a contingency plan. These letters, notes and lists – they were my contingencies. My secret, never-shared-with-anyone Plan B.
I woke up this morning, 4 days shy of turning 35, and ripped them all up. It felt so good to not think about my death, but rather, to think about my life. To destroy the evidence of what would have/could have been if I lost my battle. No one will ever read those letters, or see those notes and lists. I won’t think about them again, after this post. Every word on every one of those pages now sits in a shredded heap in tied up plastic bag, in the garbage bin outside my office. That’s where they belong. In the garbage. Not sitting in a pretty notebook on my nightstand, so that I am forced to look at it every day with fear of opening those pages or worse, having to actually use them. I don’t need a contingency plan anymore, I’m lucky, Plan A worked out just fine for me and in 4 months from now, my wish will come true.
I break down when I think about turning another year older because I was so afraid, for so long, that I wouldn’t get here. That I wouldn’t have the chance to blow out another candle. I think about how much in my life has changed since this time, last year, and so, being here now, is overwhelming and amazing all at once because it simply feels so right. This is where I’m meant to be. I am destined to be alive, and so, on Friday, I will celebrate my life. On Friday, I will wake up and sing Happy Birthday to myself, knowing that it is my VICTORY song.
Mark and I shared a pinky promise a few months back that if I got out of the hospital and stayed strong enough during my recovery, we would celebrate my birthday in the flashiest way possible – by taking a trip to Vegas and spending our days and nights roaming the strip, soaking in all the sights and sounds, and doing what we do best – laughing and having fun together. How blessed I am to have a love this grand in my life. And although I won’t have my family with me on Friday, I will have my best friend Anne and her husband Richard (our first trip together, yay!) who have assured me that this year, this birthday will be a celebration to remember! So, off I go to pack my “blingiest” dresses and highest heels (hope I remember how to walk in them) for my First Ever Vegas Adventure.
I was given a second chance. Another opportunity to do everything I want to do. In many ways, I feel both like a newborn, and a wise old man simultaneously. I am proudly Rosie 2.0 and now I see things very differently and with a clarity I didn’t know I could have. I have learned how important it is to be there for and appreciate the people in my life who support me, stand by me, and are happy for me, and how to accept and let go of the people who don’t and aren’t. I now know what the truest, purest type of love feels like and how to love truly and purely in return. I know to not sweat the small stuff and enjoy the ups and downs of every day. I can handle pain like never before and am mentally stronger than I’ve ever been. I value life in a whole new, much more gratifying way.
For me, every year, every day, every hour and minute and second spent on earth is a blessing. I will never take that for granted, I will never complain about getting older, I will never doubt making it to my next birthday. Instead, I will cherish each moment, good or bad I have in my lifetime, regardless how long, knowing that I have a life and a love that is great.
Happy Birthday to all us dreamers and writers, warriors and thrivers, the hopers and planners and of course, the survivors.
#RosieStrong