Survival Day 2009

Friday the thirteenth of November.  Survival day.  My self-proclaimed holiday.  For the last  22 years I would not have lived.  22 years ago I had a lupus flare that almost killed me.  That did kill me, for a minute or two.  Since then, 22 years of full, wonderful life. 

22 years that I wouldn’t have survived.  22 years that I couldn’t have survived, but for the people that loved me.  All of them.  The permanent, my family, without them I would have had no chance.  I’m incredibly luckly to have them.  The semi-permanent, they may know who they are, but probably don’t.  The totally impermanent who may know, because I was given a chance to tell them.  Oh, and the kick-ass doctor that did everything he could think of to keep me alive.

Some people say that a near-death experience changes you; some people say that it changes you for a few weeks.  I like to think that it changed my course.  Adjusted it just a few degrees.  But, oh what a change a few degrees can make over the long haul.  Taught me a few things.  Things that everyone’s pretty much already heard.  Life is short.  It can change on a dime.  The things you do right now are the ones that matter. 

I learned that what you say now matters, because you may never get the chance to tell them what you really meant.  If you say something mean or selfish, those may be your last words.  So don’t.  Don’t say the mean things or do the selfish things.  You may never get the chance to undo them.

At the time I felt like my life had been stolen from me. And it had.  I might have had kids.  I didn’t have them early.  And then I wanted them too late.  The energy and strength I had relied on deserted me.  I had to learn to walk again. Working was difficult at best.  I wanted my life back.  I remember falling on my knees and crying to my mom that I wanted my life back.  That was the one, essential thing that didn’t desert me.  My family.

What I wanted was one thing.  What I got was something else.  What I’ve had is 22-years of life.   Because of them.  From the blood donors who will never know my name to the wonderful man who married me when I needed it, and loves me when I need it.  From my incredible parents, my mom, who came to the hospital every day, my dad who looked after me when I got home and carried me back to the hospital when I had to go there.  I know what love is because of their example.  I know what I want to live up to because of their example.  They may think that because they’re not perfect that they’re not a good example.  I think that because they’re not perfect, but keep on trying to be their best that they’re a good example.

I have two sisters who have both had rough roads to tread.  Roads just about as different as I can imagine.  But both keep on walking.

I have a wonderful husband.  The only bad thing about him is that he was really hard to find.  I’m not an easy person to love, but I can find no fault with the way he loves me.  Coming home to him is my sanctuary.

I learned that everything you do counts.  I’m no more perfect now than I was then.  I like to think that I make better decisions.  I’ll probably never know if that’s true.  I’ll just keep following that line.  The one that tells me that I know what’s right.  Sometimes I’m tempted by the easier path.  But it’s only easier in the short term.  I’ll be happier doing the thing I think is right.  It’ll cost me a bit more effort right now, but it won’t bother my conscience in the years to come.