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He’s running late again.  That’s okay, though. I always appreciated the extra few minutes he took with me to address all of my concerns. He likes to take his time when he talks to people. It is 22 minutes past my appointment time. I’m sitting in the same chair I always find in this waiting room…so many memories in this place.

To kill time, I decide to read Ruth Ayres’ “celebration” link-up.  Her definition of  “celebration” is fresh.  To me this word has always been a loud word. When Ruth uses it, it is quiet. It makes me want to pause and reflect. What should I write about?  What is my celebration?

So many of the things I am grateful for are obvious:

My hair has grown back.

My doctors are caring, smart and good communicators.

No more cancer.

All of the above are worthy of celebration, but something in Ruth’s message made me want to dig deeper to find my celebration.

A man and woman just walked down the hall hand-in-hand, probably on the way to the infusion room. Just a little over two years ago my husband and I walked down the same hall. He was so good to me during the whole ordeal. It occurs to me in some ways I am grateful for having cancer. Well maybe not grateful for cancer, but for some of the experiences that came with it. This chapter in my life gave me an opportunity to be on the receiving end of incredible expressions of love and caring from my husband, family, friends and even people I hardly knew.

I wonder if this is what Ruth meant when she said she was choosing to position herself to find joy? Needless to say if given the choice, I would not want my life or anyone else’s life to include this horrible disease. However, I realize that as I look back at this experience, I have a choice about how I think about it.  I can choose joy.

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