I awake this morning to a pink Cleveland sky, my heart aching for Larry and my children. My family drove home yesterday after a visit that measured four weeks since I left; it is - hopefully - close to the halfway mark of my time here. This weekend has been a landmark we eagerly anticipated since April 25th, as we counted down the days until we saw each other again. Our time together was wonderful and joyous and tiring and too short. Now there isn’t a day to circle on the calendar to mark the next time I embrace my children and husband. I miss them more than ever.
I have kept grounded here by doing my best to stay present in the moment, and by peering ahead only so far as the next step. My stem cell transplant schedule has some formidable days to come, and I have no fixed discharge date: it’s easy to become overwhelmed by it all. But if the whole wide world ahead of me is a very narrow bridge** over a deep chasm, the trick is not to look down and be overcome by fear, but to keep one’s eyes and feet pointed forward. Because that is the direction I’m headed.
The next milestone is my admission to hospital for conditioning and transplant on June 2nd. Each day is one day closer to going home.
** Rabbi Nachman of Breslov wrote “The whole world is a very narrow bridge, and the main thing is to not be afraid.” I don't think it's actually about not being afraid, but about not being overcome by fear.
