November 3, 2008

• Gratitude that can hardly be expressed

  I was sitting here this morning wondering what to write about, since I have undertaken to write here more often. I looked around at my home and out the window to the bird feeders. I made some tea and checked my e-mail. I thought about a neighbour’s cats, which I’m looking after while they are away. Happy home, cheery birds, nice hot tea, spammy e-mails (what’s new), fluffy cats. Oh, and my regular mail just arrived too. A fine ordinary day.

  What’s extraordinary, for me, about any day at all, is that my life almost ended in 1990 when I was only 25. This isn’t something I think about constantly, but now that I consider it, it does occur to me several times a week, and it does add to my sense of appreciation for everything around me. It’s hardly normal to have survived cancer for 18 years — in fact, to feel sure that the cancer is really gone.

  Everyone talks about the “battle” against cancer that its victims daily wage. In my experience, that battle is more about keeping your spirits up while the doctors fight your cancer. That’s where my gratitude comes in.

  

  This woman is Dr. Joan Murphy. Since she eliminated my cancer, I have often thought of her with thankfulness, and once even glimpsed her in an airport. She has made almost two decades of subsequent life possible for me so far. I am sure she doesn’t always enjoy such success, brilliant though she is, because cancer is such a formidable opponent. But I am here, and I am grateful for this ordinary day.

  • 11:30 am
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