Well, the only thing Chinese about my massage were the symbols on the laminated reflexology poster hanging on the wall. My ” masseuse” was half Colombian, half Mexican born and raised right here in Chicago. Once she saw my hands and feet, she focused way too much time on my thighs, like 75 or 80%. I didn’t like it 100%. No one needs that body part given that much attention unless maybe you’re an Olympic weightlifter or the squat champion of the world. So I’m not all cool and relaxed but I’m not really nervous either, just anxious. But, that probably has more to do with being away from Michael so long than actual anxiety about the hospital and all that is to follow. I’m watching the last day of the Olympics waiting for Michael to arrive. It’s been on my television constantly since the Opening Ceremonies. I have watched more volleyball, water polo, diving, swimming and basketball in the past two weeks than in my 42 years combined. Somehow, even though I don’t follow sports I find it inspirational and comforting. These athletes have lived lives of difficulty and sacrifice. It’s all over for them and it’s all over for me.
Tomorrow starts the first day of treatment and my first steps to recovery.
So tonight the Closing Ceremonies will be poetic for me.
The end of something big and difficult is also a beginning.
Like I’m crossing the finish line and stepping onto the field for the first event.
My life will change after today.
My battle will be for health and rejuvenation. My climb will be up.
It may be steep and scary but it will be up.
I just have to climb.
jenlancaster on Try Again Barbara Jones on Try Again jenlancaster on Try Again Gale Parker on Try Again