Pride in the aisle

Now, that Heather (old and new) are trickling back, I get bursts of her. This was a beautiful experience, so here it goes:

Super Bowl Sunday. Grocery store is packed because I walk in around 1. I have lost so much weight that I am now fitting in my old stylie clothes that I love. At one point D, asked me to try on my favorite woolen jacket and I told him no way. It was just another one of those symbolic things for me, I have/had lots of them. I didn't want to contaminate my favorite jacket with any chemo memories. Like when I was a kid, I had my favorite pair of jeans. I was convinced, that if I wore those jeans I would never get into trouble at school (I was a little, just a wee bit tasmanian devilish, or should I say hyperactive). So, again, for those of you that watched the Golden Girls.......

Picture it, Sicily, 19...

I was standing there, wearing my new jeans, wearing my favorite jacket, standing tall in my favorite cowgirl boots (that they too weren't aloud to come out of the closet the past 8 months), holding a dripping package of meat in my bare hands. This chemo brain mixed with the mayhem at the store, I forgot to grab a plastic bag to put it in. Of coarse the line was hellish long and the longer I held this meat in my bare hands, the more it warmed up and began to drip.
As I stood there an old feeling came across me, and I had to welcome her back. Pride, worked its way from the earth all the way to my head. Christening every square inch of my body, and as it traveled upwards, I felt how it affected me in different ways. I suddenly stood taller, I felt taller, I felt pretty, I felt grounded, I felt self-assured, and.... I felt the blood dripping in my hands. Now couldn't Pride had waited till I didn't have a chuck roast dripping in my hands? I laughed out loud at how ridiculously funny this was, and I was so happy to be feeling Pride again. It was beautiful. I haven't felt vanity arise in me yet, not like that. I just can't wait until I have hair, heck even a few more eyelashes, to look in the mirror and see my beauty again.

Yesterday, was the most amazing day I have had since I was diagnosed, June 2, 2008. I woke up feeling incredible, and I actually had the energy to give four massages. I started at 11:30 and got home just in time for LOST. What a gift it is to be a healer in this life. My favorite parts of doing a massage, is meeting people in their world, getting them to a place of relaxation whether that is talking to them until they are blue in the face, or not talking, but then the end. Everyone is quiet and I just rock them as if they are my babies. I love them as if they are my babies and they are the most special, special beings in the world. I thank their spirits and channel all the love that exists in this world into them. Now, how could any day be better than that. What a gift this craft is.