A Month of Life
I missed my first day of work on February 1. This is February 26, and I’m not well yet. I missed four days of “official” work, two full days of unpaid writing, and several partial days. Even when I’ve been back at work, I haven’t felt like myself.
Earlier this week, a local librarian heard me cough and suggested strongly that I should be home in bed. She wasn’t convinced by my assurance that I’d done my time in bed...and this was much better!
As of today, I see big-time progress. I’m still easily tired, but I only coughed a few times today. Woo hoo! I’m nearly well!
In the meantime, I’ve missed a month of my life.
As I'm sure you've figured out, one can do a lot of things with a month. A few summers ago, for instance, I spent an entire month in Thailand. Trust me on this: a month-long holiday in Thailand is better than a month of sickness.
I’ve been inclined to feel just a little bit sorry for myself. Okay, I'll admit it -- more than just a little.
My pity parties last about two minutes -- when I’m brought up short by the reminder that many people are sick for months...even years. They don’t simply miss out on a month of To Do lists before bouncing back to the usual work or school scene.
These people have to give up their entire “usual scene”, because their illness has no known ending. Or because the treatments required to save them from it, make them too sick to be out in public. Some of them wonder if they'll ever have a To Do list again.
I’d never dare to pretend that, after a mere month-of-slowdown, I can understand what it’s like to have a chronic illness.
But I do want to say this...
Hats off to you who are sick, week after week, month after month, year after year. May God give you courage and strength.
Hats off to you who get horribly sick from your treatments... but keep going for treatments anyway.
Hats off to you who care for a loved one for year-in and year-out... but don’t allow yourself to get bitter about it.
Hats off to you who bear a life-long diagnosis with patience and dignity... and refuse to get mad at God.
My greatest hats off, and my deepest bows, go to you who bear chronic illnesses with no family or friends nearby. May you know the Friend you cannot see, but is always with you. May you know how much He cares about you. And may you know that He’s preparing a much grander life for you on the other side.
This life won’t last forever... but that one will! Now that's worth a WOO HOO!!