Today is Wednesday; I try to do things that help distract me from the pain in my body since I woke. It is, of course, a daily thing, yet I must push it aside. Taking care of my fur baby Dixie is my first concern, then all the medications, dressing, and starting a new day. My day is filled with painting, checking out what is on the internet, email, Twitter, creating poetry, and things of interest to me. Sometimes, I sit quietly, hoping for the pain to go away. I talk to or text my wonderful children and grandchildren, which holds me up when I can no longer stand alone. Their love takes away the pain. I thank God daily for giving me these wonderful angels. I continue to write my autobiography; recalling all that I need to put in it takes me to another level. It takes away the presence and carries me to the past, reliving the years that have gone by so quickly.
It seems as if Cancer controls my life. I let it think so; I own my life. Its presence makes me stronger, braver, and wiser. It is I who chooses how to live. The word “Cancer” does not live in my soul. I have not been afraid of it from the moment given the diagnosis. My soul belongs to God and me. It can never touch the divine spirit that cries out, “I am not my body.” My soul will not allow it to pull me down into the depths of despair. Those close to me will surround me, and they will fight with me to let Cancer know that I, We, will not surrender to it. Cancer does not own me, I own myself, and it will not kill me without a fight.
Poem of the day:
In the Mist of Grief…#365
Memories emerge in the darkness
of the night, becoming one with my
soul like the rivers that flow into the
sea. These hours before dawn are
like a cold rain pounding into my
heart. The grief is fierce as it
raises and then returns to consume
my spirit, assaulting my senses.
The depths of my courage wounded,
I am listing in a sea of sorrow, my
life filled with more grief than many
can bear. In search of a miracle,
hope merges with despair. It is my
destiny to lose all that I have ever
loved. It is the hard cold hour to
depart this misery.
©2022.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree
The Last Chapter 