When this all started, fear and I lived at the ends of two poles. If it showed up next to me, I’d push and shove it away until it couldn’t pop its head back out for many days or weeks. This system worked well and I was good at it. Unfortunately, I grew tired. Fear wore me down until I became stressed and frustrated.
These days, fear has settled into our life and operates essentially alongside me as a fifth limb or alter ego. Uninvited, it rides in the car to and from appointments. It asks questions at the clinic and then forces me to stop listening as it whispers in my ear what the answer could be. It sleeps in our bed, and emerges in quiet moments alone, standing in the shower or waiting for coffee to brew in the morning. It has an annoying knack for showing up where I least expect it – during hikes when the sun is shining and leaves are cracking underfoot, or sometimes when Sam and I hug, it wedges itself between us. It’s sitting with me now while I type. As hospital days creep closer and closer, Sam and I have prioritized spending lots of time outside. Luckily, this fall has been beautiful. Unlike in Anchorage where you blink and it’s over, the season crept up on us with the trees seemingly turning orange one by one. Now, the light shines differently in the woods. Where before the world was green trees and blues skies, now it’s orange and yellow and red. We’re taking the time to notice all of it, because on Monday it will be over. On Monday, the clinical trial picks up and it’s back to the battlefield in the war of Sam vs. Leukemia. He’ll be back on B6/6 preparing for the bone marrow transplant, which is scheduled for the following Monday, October 19th. After that, we’ll wait 32 days to find out if Jim’s blood cells are able to fight off Sam’s stubborn Leukemia. I recently listened to a TED Talk about fear. The speaker pointed out that we’re often encouraged to think of fear as weakness, and that we are hard-wired to be optimists. We’re told not to worry. We’re told to fight, conquer, and overcome. She encouraged us to think of fear differently though. She talked about how fear is a form of unintentional storytelling that we all know how to do. She said that, every now and then, our fears are an innate ability to predict the future. I’ve been planning for a while now to bring fear with us into our tiny hospital room. Somehow, consciously planning to bring it along will make it less offensive when it shows up anyway and sits on top of my chest like a pile of bricks as I know it will. By bringing it with me, I’ll be even more eager to make it wrong. I’ll continuously seek to take a different path than the one it dictates. But I’ll also be prepared for what it can tell me about our future. With fear, I can’t be blindsided. So, like the orange and red of autumn, I’m trying to be intentional and truly acknowledge its value, and I know it will be over and gone before long. Unlike autumn, I’m just not sure which season lies on the other side. Fear has a lot of opinions about that, but so does Sam, a team of Doctors, Jim, Debi, the rest of our families, and an army of warriors including you and I. Here’s to being stronger than our fears.
Hillary FEder
10/12/2015 11:26:38 am
be STRONG! 10/12/2015 08:38:01 pm
You got this Sam! Your warriors are behind you all the way! So happy you are able to enjoying this beautiful Fall! Toasting a glass/mug to many more years to follow for you and Jenny! Comments are closed.
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