I still choose to get up each day and smile fiercely at the sun. Sure, maybe sometimes that smile looks more like a grimace of pain. Yet despite trisomy 18, despite grief of unimaginable magnitude, despite leukemia, despite Alzheimers, dementia, and mental illness, I choose to dig in my garden, to read books, to write, to cherish my children, the living and the dead, to kiss my husband, and to keep striving towards … whatever it is we strive towards—maybe just being a better person in the world. Maybe just spreading compassion and love.
I’m tired of being told that I’m strong and resilient and all of the other things that people say. I am not strong. There is no alternative. If I break, to what end?
How is pediatric chemotherapy different in this age of pandemic?
Caveat: I am extremely privileged to have savings and a cushion while I am unable to work. While I am stressed about not being at my job, I recognize that many of my friends and family are going to be struggling mightily during this time, as they cannot work. This post is in no wayContinue reading “#indoorsy, also called enjoying what I can when the world is out of control”