I am an honest person. For better or worse I am genuinely the world's worst liar. I am so bad in fact, I can only remember telling one solitary lie in my entire 27 years. I still remember it. I was five years old. We had weird neighbors at the time. They were green to the point that they used neither organic deodorant or even baking soda... In their defense they were green before Whole Foods even existed and organic deodorant was available for purchase. Though they were "free love" in theory and generous with sharing their body odor... they were rigid in opinion and the type of people who believed it was both their right and obligation to parent all the children of the neighborhood. I was both fascinated and terrified by them. On one occasion my brother appeared to be aimlessly wandering through the neighborhood, my neighbors demanded to know what he was doing and where he was going, I fearfully responded with "He is searching for our stolen lawn mower." Yes, I wasted my one true moment of blatant dishonesty on this excuse. There isn't a great moral or metaphor to be found in this example, my only purpose in sharing is to illustrate that while I have many vices, lying is not one of them. Most who know me would say I am unabashed to a fault. On the rare occasion I am able to exercise self control and not verbalize my every thought, my face is a dead giveaway. My siblings are a fair amount older than I am so their courting years were concurrent to my monstrously honest childhood years. I would give my opinion to every date of theirs who came to our door. I was so open about my feelings I even went as far as terrorizing the boyfriend of one of our houseguests. I found him abhorrent from the first time he stepped foot on our porch. To make my feelings known I snuck out of the house and poured multiple cans of diet coke inside his Lexus... I know I should feel bad about it but to this day I don't. I sometimes wish I still had the courage to both literally and metaphorically pour my diet coke into the Lexuses of many of the DudeBros I have encountered over the years...
For having seldom lied, I believe I have suffered an unfair share of needles in my eye. Literally. On average I have received an injection in my eye every three months for the past few years. This summer I suffered from such a significant infection in my eye I had to receive consecutive injections without numbing. The doctor feared because of the radiation damage to my eye I would not be able to tolerate the lidocaine. This past week while admiring an immaculate makeup job in the mirror, I noticed my typically green iris was half red...Though festive for the holidays I obviously panicked at the sight of my bleeding iris. The funny thing is bleeding irises, periodic injections into my eyeball and a whole other slew of problems that have come as side effects from my radiation treatment have become the most routine part of my life. I get far less nervous about needles in my eye than I do about airport security or riding a very crowded subway.
If I am being perfectly honest, there are days when survivorship is hard. There are days when I feel as though I have to survive survivorship. This is not to say I am not humbled or profoundly grateful for the miraculous preservation of my life, I AM. I feel guilty when I allow myself to feel discouraged, I feel guilty for the moments I am unable to keep things in perspective.
There is nothing more challenging for a survivor than to encounter individuals who have lost friends and loved ones to the disease, tragedy or event they were spared from. Most times I feel the people who are taken are far better people than I could ever imagine being. Feeling the weight of survivor's guilt only increases my need to feel "on" every single day. It increases my need to feel purposeful and to feel at though I am making a contribution. The thing is I don't feel "on" every single day. I don't feel an overwhelming sense of urgency and purpose every minute of every hour of every day. Somedays I truly believe my calling in life is to stay in my jammies and watch One Tree Hill on Netflix all day...
Last week when my iris started to bleed I was inconsolable. Prior to the bleeding incident my eye had been calmer than it had been in almost a decade. I was frustrated when the glimmer of hope for a season without visiting the eye doctor suddenly seemed a far less shimmering possibility. I wondered why God always seemed to have something he wanted to teach me. I wondered why I was not granted a holiday vacation from life's tutoring? When I finally went to the doctor he informed me I had Rubeosis and that the blood would clear in a couple of days. He then explained to me "Rubeosis" was given its name hundreds of years ago because the eyes of people who suffered from the disease would turn the color of rubies...
Neal A. Maxwell, one of the most beloved leaders in my church, also happened to be my best friend's grandfather and my neighbor growing up. He influenced my life in profound ways and though he is now gone I still visit his words frequently to find comfort, wisdom and perspective. When I was a young girl he was diagnosed with Leukemia and presented with a significant fight. Recently another leader of my church recounted advice Elder Maxwell had given him when explaining his battle with Leukemia. He shared the thought that "Not shrinking is more important than surviving."
My family celebrated Christmas early this year as my sister and her family were only in town for a few short days. One of our traditions is to each share an experience or insight from the past year where we have seen the hand of God in our lives. There were triumphs and trials this year for all of us. As I listened I heard a common theme of "not shrinking." I was humbled as I looked around the room of people who all had "survived" in their own ways. Each of them received survivorship graciously and beautifully. Since then I have realized there is a reason my latest ailment is named after a precious gem. Though it strikes me as odd to name a blood filled eye after a ruby, I recognize the experience as shaping. Jewels are developed through heat and heavy pressures. Becoming and receiving life's jewels means there will seldom be winter vacations.
Truthfully, being a survivor is hard and this past week I felt bogged down by it. Luckily, I was poignantly reminded it isn't really about being a survivor but becoming someone who does not shrink.
Love you Linds!
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