What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger…


Unless it’s cancer. Sure, there are the few who catch it early or have great insurance and are stubborn enough to kick it’s ass. Hats off to them by the way! Then there are the ones you hear about, your friends, your loved ones that just can’t fight anymore. They suffer, Oh man do they suffer, through chemo, radiation, and  who even knows what other drugs they put them on! It’s not fair that someone should have to pass that way and it’s not fair that the people who love them the most have to sit back and watch it happen. We feel helpless, we can’t take their pain away, though some of us would if we could. We can’t make it better, and we can’t tell them every thing is going to be okay and they will beat this thing… yeah at first, you can say it until you’re blue in the face and hey, like I said. some do… but in their final moments, looking at them lying in a hospital bed, nothing but bones and dry cracked lips, yellowing eyes and distant expression, you know there is no coming back from this. You know in your heart someone you love is fading out right in before your eyes and the longer they lie there, the more you want them to pull through and the more they just want to let go.

I’m an empath, which means I feel things other people feel, whether it’s an emotion or physical pain, sometimes even thoughts, If I am around you, I will feel it.

Today, standing in my kitchen letting out shelby, I became so thirsty I couldn’t stand it. I began to pour myself a glass of juice when it hit me like a semi. The aurora, flashing lights, strange blobs of random colors and then, an over whelming dizzy spell brought me to my knees. I began seizing right there on the kitchen floor fully conscious, feeling every muscle spasm, every gut wrenching pain in my back and legs as they flexed and contorted into unnatural positions. I felt my heart race and pain shooting through my chest as my breath began to slow. I felt like I was dying right there, I couldn’t breath I couldn’t see, but I could feel Shelby at my side and hear her whining as she watched in horror, confused and panicked. My breath began to return and I gasped taking in as much welcomed oxygen as I could, the spasms began to slow as I regained my vision and the pain lessened. It was just a seizure, a very very scarey seizure. I have temporal lobe epilepsy, which means I usually only know I’ve had a seizure based on the way I feel after it passes. dizzy, confused, and sore, sometimes even a little twitchy or shaky, but it’s very rare for me to remain completely conscious during such a sever seizure with the characteristics of a grand mal, let alone remember the whole thing. As a matter of fact I rarely have any recollection of what I was doing before it hit and for some time after. For some reason at that time, I felt like letting go. No, I’m not suicidal, I just felt so much pain, so much agony that I felt like it was my time to pass.

Right then the realization came crashing down on me, this wasn’t me, this was someone else..

Then I got the phone call. My Grandpa’s second wife, and by all means my other grandmother, was hanging on by mere threads, “hours to minutes,” my mom told me. “We are losing her, she’s finally letting go.”

I’ve never really been close to her, I guess we never really got a chance to know one another, but that doesn’t mean I don’t ache for my grandfather for losing his wife to this kind of agony. Nor does it mean I don’t ache for her, holding on for so long, unable to eat or even have a conversation. She’s been fighting for a long time, but once cancer starts spreading it’s lethal. Game over so-to-speak…

well, at least now, her suffering can end and she can move on and be at peace…. I lit a candle in her honor tonight and asked the Goddess to aid her in a safe and peaceful passing, I pray it was gentle and in her sleep and not the terrifying episode I experienced today. I imagine that when you’ve suffered so much, for so long, welcoming death is like seeing an old friend and I hope she could have a peaceful journey into her next life.

R.I.P. Donna.


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