A little word
G'day all!
Daffodil Day has come and gone again. It is the annual fund raiser for the Cancer Council.
I've been passionate about supporting the Cancer Council for quite some years now. When I worked at AXA, I was a charity captain (for the Heart Foundation) and helped run quite a number of charity stalls. I always made myself available for as much Daffodil Day fundraising as I could manage.
Well of course now I am a recipient of Cancer Council aid. Quite a bit of the information I've received this year has been paid for by the Cancer Council (and therefore by people who've helped raise funds and also govt money I believe).
This year, I bought a pen, a shopping list pad/pencil and a keyring.
This one little word on the keyring practically brought me to my knees.
I never realised how powerful hope is. I tear up just looking at it.
Part of this cancer journey is the fear that I will die. I know I'll die sooner or later but I sorta thought it would be in another 40 or so years and I'd have plenty of time to do everything I want to do. But now I just don't know. I might be lucky and dodge the bullet and get those 40-odd years. But I might not too. I have never asked what my chances are - I've never been game. I think I've got even odds. The idea of dying like my mother and aunt did terrifies me.
But do I let myself hope that I will survive? Can I afford to allow myself to hope? Dare I let myself hope?
It is such a small word but it is amazingly big at the same time. It encompasses so much in those four letters.
I'm trying to get as much as I can out of every day. I don't know how many "good" days I'll have, days where I feel capable of doing at least some stuff. I might have many (and look back at this time with a certain degree of amusement and sympathy for this current self), I might have few. So I keep hammering away, trying to get better, trying to make the most of things, trying to get as much done as I can without unnecessarily wearying myself.
And I'll keep looking at that keyring. Maybe one day I'll let myself believe in it. Maybe one day I'll let myself dream of the future. But not yet.
anon!
Daffodil Day has come and gone again. It is the annual fund raiser for the Cancer Council.
I've been passionate about supporting the Cancer Council for quite some years now. When I worked at AXA, I was a charity captain (for the Heart Foundation) and helped run quite a number of charity stalls. I always made myself available for as much Daffodil Day fundraising as I could manage.
Well of course now I am a recipient of Cancer Council aid. Quite a bit of the information I've received this year has been paid for by the Cancer Council (and therefore by people who've helped raise funds and also govt money I believe).
This year, I bought a pen, a shopping list pad/pencil and a keyring.
This one little word on the keyring practically brought me to my knees.
I never realised how powerful hope is. I tear up just looking at it.
Part of this cancer journey is the fear that I will die. I know I'll die sooner or later but I sorta thought it would be in another 40 or so years and I'd have plenty of time to do everything I want to do. But now I just don't know. I might be lucky and dodge the bullet and get those 40-odd years. But I might not too. I have never asked what my chances are - I've never been game. I think I've got even odds. The idea of dying like my mother and aunt did terrifies me.
But do I let myself hope that I will survive? Can I afford to allow myself to hope? Dare I let myself hope?
It is such a small word but it is amazingly big at the same time. It encompasses so much in those four letters.
I'm trying to get as much as I can out of every day. I don't know how many "good" days I'll have, days where I feel capable of doing at least some stuff. I might have many (and look back at this time with a certain degree of amusement and sympathy for this current self), I might have few. So I keep hammering away, trying to get better, trying to make the most of things, trying to get as much done as I can without unnecessarily wearying myself.
And I'll keep looking at that keyring. Maybe one day I'll let myself believe in it. Maybe one day I'll let myself dream of the future. But not yet.
anon!
Until you are faced with an acute or chronic illness, you don't realise how lucky you were before, when you were healthy. I think hope is a good thing, last thing out of Pandora's Box, and sometimes when there is nothing else: there is Hope. I dare to hope. I'm glad the Cancer Council is looking after and supporting you.
ReplyDeleteI think that by "trying," "doing" and "hammering," you have already acknowledged the hope -- and rather than dwell there, you have risen above. That's just the vibe I get. You are amazing.
ReplyDeleteSome tiny words are very powerful. Here's to "looking back with amusement" I hope that is how it is for you.
ReplyDeleteI always have hope, but I know what you mean. Whilst going through this terrible ordeal you wonder if you will ever feel 'normal' again, you will, I've just reached that point. It creaps up and suddenly you say to yourself, when did I become normal again, LOL . Look after yourself x.
ReplyDeleteMy dear Lynne,Ive had a very long sort of yucky week mostly gettng over a very busy Uni assignment posting Weekend and hadnt checked with you!!!
ReplyDeleteHappyHappy Bday Blog!! I would have put my bit in had I known!
I wish I could help out somehow and agree with you with the simpleword,Hope.
Hugs to you and believe in your future!
PS I love your photos~