As I get closer to “that age” of collecting Social Security, I was talking with my husband about starting it as soon as I’m eligible. He, like so many people, tells me to wait until I’m older so I can get the most money possible.
But as someone who has had numerous heart surgeries and lives with heart disease, I want to start taking it as soon as I can. I have no idea what the future holds.
My husband immediately takes that negatively. “You’re gonna outlive all of us. Don’t say that.”
The thing is, I’m not being a martyr or feeling sorry for myself. I’m being realistic. And there is a difference.
I was sharing this conversation with a friend of mine who is a breast cancer survivor, and we started talking about what it’s like to live with a potentially fatal disease. She told me that she looks at her breast cancer like a dog on a leash.
The dog walks beside you. It is always there. But it is not who you are.
I loved that analogy.
If someone asked me to describe myself, I would tell them I am a Nana, a Mother, a Daughter and a Wife. I would tell them what I do and where I live. After all of that, I might say that I have a congenital heart defect and that I am a cancer survivor.
It is part of who I am, but it is not the whole picture. Not even close.
When we live with an ongoing illness, or have experienced tragedy, loss or death, we are changed. We can’t help it. My saying that I have heart disease does not mean I am wallowing in self-pity or feeling sorry for myself.
It is simply factual.
And yet, my illness has impacted my life in some of the most positive ways.
I don’t look at my cup as half full.
I look at it and think, How blessed am I to have a cup?
I am cautiously optimistic about what lies ahead.
We have all heard the quote, “There is always something to be grateful for.”
The bottom line is that there is. No matter what is going on, there is something we can be thankful for.
When I am in the hospital, I make friends with my nurses. I tell them about my love for iced coffee. Every time I’m there, I make deals with the nurses: “You buy me an iced coffee from the shop in the lobby, and I’ll get you an iced coffee.”
And there I am, lying in that hospital bed, watching that horrible TV, drinking a pumpkin iced coffee—and I’m happy.
I’m happy.
And I’m grateful.
Life is built on simple things.
My life has changed because of my illness. My circle is smaller. The number of people I choose to spend my time with has shrunk. If I don’t want to do something, I say no. And many times, I don’t give an explanation.
“I’m sorry, I can’t do that.”
No explanation necessary.
None of us knows what tomorrow will bring. None of us is guaranteed a tomorrow.
Tragedy, sickness and death do not define us.
Like the dog walking beside us, they may be with us, but they are not who we are.
We are so much more.
“Owning our story and loving ourselves through that process is the bravest thing we’ll ever do.”
— Brené Brown
