Private War

I’m not going to get into the hairy details of thyroid treatment. Let’s just say its a bitch and I am grateful to be on the other, well-balanced side of an unbearable year. I regained my hair, some assemblance of a metabolism and my filter, the one that keeps me from yelling obscenities at my boss. If you haven’t had the experience of losing one or all of these things, you haven’t really lived.

The past 5 years have taught me a serious respect for the private wars people are waging everyday.  No longer does the culture stipulate hot casserole and free childcare for sick friends. A quick phone call is more than most of us can cram into our own demanding days. And, if your particular battle is a long one, with wide valleys between the moments of hope, you begin to outlast even the most strident of supporters.

I am blessed with a spouse who jumps in and climbs every mountain with me.  He shares the weigh of this pain with endless endurance. A good friend says people are given the children they need, and in my case I am certain this is true. My daughter brings a compassion and sweetness to my life that I cannot imagine being without. In the midst of this physical pain, these are the things that have kept me reaching for tomorrow with a sense of peace and anticipation. Life owes me none of this and I am grateful everyday.


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