Day (morning) +10, on optimism, and what matters to me. Spoiler alert: It's you.

Last night was my first night here that I slept, not as a result of total exhaustion but by choice, throughout the night. Other than the usual interruptions for vital signs and such, it was a very calm, pleasant evening. 

I woke up and rolled over at 7am to see what is probably a very average looking morning sky:

The view, combined with how I'm feeling currently, made for a brief moment where for the first time in a long time, I really felt optimistic. Not necessarily about big picture stuff relating to cancer or the chances of this working or anything like that (even though I am optimistic about those things as well). 

Today's optimism was much more simple. 

Optimism that I'm going to have a good day today. That I won't spend half the day with my head in the toilet. That my appetite is creeping back in and that my semi-staggering weight loss will slow down (not that I didn't have a few to lose...who am I kidding). 

Optimism that, while I've said it during the hard days, I really am one day closer to getting home. It isn't just an acknowledgement of a passing day, but is a feeling that I can believe. I really am closer to getting back to the people I love and who love me.

Back to the people who have the very serious responsibility to care for me when I do get home. Leaving the hospital isn't the end of this road for me. It's just the beginning. I'm at risk for all kinds of very serious complications that have to be closely monitored, controlled, and taken care of. Takes a special person to fill those roles. 

Like this special guy: 

my hero

Or this special girl:

Hero #2

I'm one lucky SOB. I know that. I've been repeatedly dropped on by a dump truck full of perspective in this last year. I'd like to say I have a better grasp on what matters, and what doesn't. I know who and what I'll never take for granted. I know where I want to see my life, post-all-this, go. I know who matters. Whose opinion matters. 

I know how much fun it was to say "E.T. Phone Home" to and giggle to myself (while heavily drugged) the other night:

I'm the furthest thing from an expert on perspective and I hate to sound preachy. I don't have all my shit together and there are things I need to figure out. I've got a long way to go and a ton to learn. I said it before though: 

Cancer, all this, has made me better. 

I have a long way to go, but considerably less far than when this all began. It's empowering, to steal a persons or an organizations or a diseases original intent--to harm, damage, kill---and flip it on it's head. 

I'm a better person today than I was on August 14th, 2014.

 So thank you, Cancer. You get 5% of the credit. 

The rest of the 95% goes to all of the incredible people in my life. People who have known me forever. People who just met me. People who found me through this blog. Families who have accepted me as their own and people who I've fallen in love with. 

Ultimate Schmoop

I also would like to bring up something that I've struggled with how to approach. My incredible Aunt Luanne started a GoFundMe page for me a few months back. She knew the bills were coming in and that with this extended break from work, money would be tight. She was right, and I couldn't be more thankful. 

Honestly, though, for some time, it was difficult. It's a lame thing to say, but I'm a proud person. Not too proud to ask for help necessarily, but this fight though, I envisioned as mine alone. That it needed to be me who defeated big bad Cancer. That asking for help was an opening for some kind of weakness.

So my reluctance to acknowledge the campaign she started on this blog was for a couple of reasons: 

1. I never wanted it to be seen as an appeal for money from the people I love and care about who read this. That certainly is not what this is. The support I feel from your readership alone is more than any donation could render, and that isn't hyperbole. The fact that I can sit and write things that I know will have an audience is incredibly empowering. It gives me something to constantly look forward to. So PLEASE understand this is NOT a request for donations. 

2. I never wanted to make the blog it about the fundraiser. I wanted to keep this place "pure" of it. Keep it light, full of bad writing, and just tell the day to day story.  I hate money. I don't want it to have a place here. 

Yet, as time went on and some incredibly generous donations started rolling in, allowing me to handle some expenses I otherwise couldn't have, it became clear to me that sending small little thank you notes to the individuals who donated wasn't enough, and that I wanted to thank them on here. More publicly. So:

To anyone who has sent me a prayer, or wished me well, or .50, $1, or anything more--to say it has "touched me" is such an understatements it's almost ridiculous. I can't believe it every time a donation comes in. It has almost nothing to do with the amount. Has everything to do with the people. Names I don't know--people I've never met--people who heard my story and wanted to do something to help--and of course loved ones who would do anything for me. You people...are damn heroes. And I thank all of you, sincerely.

And I give all of you my word, it will be paid forward in full. 

“There is no exercise better for the heart than reaching down and lifting people up.” 
― John Holmes

You've all lifted me up. 

Like I said...today is an optimistic day. I'm feeling good. I'm eating. I'm up and moving. I'm a day closer to going home. 

And I feel loved. 

Thank you.