What do you learn from a life cycle?
Answer the question only after you learn what my most recent life cycle included: three family deaths, one air ambulance ride, six ground ambulance trips, four surgeries, and ten hospital stays. All in 31 months.
Expand the timeline to five years, toss in two dog deaths and in-laws moved into assisted living/nursing home care, and you’ve captured my life experience since 2010. The sterile words convey nothing of losing either your mother to dementia or your own brain to a ruptured aneurysm.
Some people toss away the months with convenient blame: Hell. Others pin the meaning to “life cluster.”
I choose Life.
Yes, it’s easy (easier?) to say or write this now. But it’s true: I choose to celebrate these adventures in living. To do otherwise would potentially send me into infinite paroxysms of grief, rage, and unending depression.
So yes, I celebrate. Especially today.
The worst part of these misadventures was the aneurysm that exploded in the back of my brain. That occurred three years ago this noon.
I celebrate with a letting go and a moving forward.
Losing so much of what you love redefines a life. It no longer matters what happened or how or when or where or even why. It’s shuck-the-label time. Spread the word: I’m well.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know: I’m not quite done with the doctor and hospital routine. Brain angiograms remain on my To Do list for another four years and nine months. Yawning, I call that my New Normal.
I’m returning to this space, my blog, and to the bigger place I’m here to fill—the pages of a novel that’s burning itself into my fingertips.
Ready to finish gathering source text, finalize the story outline and its overarching structure, hunker down on daily writing, complete the manuscript within the year, and send my completed creation to eight waiting agents.
Today triggers a new cycle of life, one that I’m most delighted to live.
Three long years later.