JAMIE’S BLOG – DAY 332 :: tragedy to triumph

1 Dec

It’s December.

The year is wrapping up right before my eyes.  It’s hard to believe isn’t it? Just one more month of 2014 before us, a lifetime behind us. The dates on the calendar are being swept away and flying into the wind of yesterday.

In these next thirty days, I will be forming and contemplating my next promise. While at the same time I am reflecting back on what this year has brought with it. It has been one of tragedy and triumph.  Unexpected joy, unbelievable pain, unsurpassed love.

And that is the story of life.

As I tote around my new silicone set (and try not to fry them in the sauna) I am amazed at: 

  • how fast scars heal 
  • how small a DD cup actually feels! 
  • the power of intentional intention 
  • the wide, wide range of peak performance 

Peak performance has not been what I thought it would be. In true promise form, what I THOUGHT would happen this year is not really what the universe had in store.

Upon first entering my OB’s office this February, I thought I met my first potential friend in this town we moved across the country to call home. After she found the lump in my breast she sent me on the wild goose chase which landed me with fake boobs and a bucket full of gratitude for an early diagnosis.

Tonight, as I opened the door to the gym, I recognized the woman standing behind me.

“I know you!” I blurted out of surprise.  I was shocked that I actually ran into someone I recognized!  My doctor of all people! My OB that I haven’t seen in months. The first woman in this town that I thought could be called ‘friend.’

She seemed unfazed and gave me a look I read as: I don’t remember you but I’m going to be really nice anyway.

And she was nice. But as we walked down the hall to the locker room I could feel that she just wanted to escape the six foot stranger making small talk. As a doctor, I’m sure she runs into the many sets of boobs she sees in her office all over town. Part of me wanted to hug her and thank her for that early diagnosis. Part of me wanted to rip off my shirt and show her my new girls. Part of me was so embarrassed I wanted to make a beeline to the pool even though no bathing did I have on my body.

As we entered the locker room, she went right and I went left. As I sat down on the bench I had an overwhelming sensation that this too was a special sort of blessing. The kind that shows up to remind you that it’s really good news when you doctor doesn’t remember your name.

It was the triumphant sense that you have officially closed the chapter of this book.
And, that, to me, feels like the best way to begin wrapping up this year.
From tragedy to triumph. 

 
More tomorrow. 
Lovemore,
Jamie

 

 {what are your triumphs from this year?}

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