If you were cured today, sleep would come easy and the exhausted worry that I have felt for such a long time would be lifted. I wouldn’t wake up every couple of hours to stare at the ceiling with my heart racing and medical terms shouting out in my mind.
If you were cured today, I would be happy – really happy. Like Will Smith happy in the movie “The Pursuit of Happyness” when Chris Gardner finally catches a break and earns a good job on Wall Street after being homeless with his son for nearly a year. A happiness that comes only from wanting something desperately and finally getting it. A happiness that can break you down and build you up in the same instant. I love the clips from this movie …
If you were cured today, I wouldn’t read any medical journals, blogs, or Facebook posts on how to make this all go away … how to protect you … how to do the impossible.
If you were cured today, I would celebrate with you. We would read books on my cozy fur chair and snuggle on the couch and watch movies. I’d let you take an extra long bath and sit and watch as your Power Rangers battle before me. I’d kiss your neck and smell your hair. I’d quietly bask in the extraordinary miracle before me.
If you were cured today, I would get a glimpse of a life that didn’t revolve around food allergies, apraxia, eczema, asthma, inflammation, and appointments. I would get a glimpse of a life that wasn’t teaching me the heart-wrenching love that comes from sacrificing everything you love for something else you love more.
If you were cured today, my senses would be heightened. Songs would come on the radio that express exactly how I am feeling. I would sing loudly, blending in with the melody just perfectly. I’d close my eyes and delight in the warm sun shining on my face.
If you were cured today, surprisingly enough, I would eat junk food to celebrate. I wouldn’t worry about words like gluten, processed on shared equipment, may contain traces of, and non-GMO. I’d have Reese’s peanut butter cups for dessert, but I’d still eat them in another room and scrub my hands with soap and water afterwards and splash water on my lips.
If you were cured today, I would be confident in the miracle that God blessed us with, but I’d still be spooked. After all, old habits are hard to break. Do I remember how to act normal at a party? What will it be like to not have an emergency plan always neatly etched out in my mind? When does the post-traumatic stress fade away? At what point do I let my guard down and trust that your body is not playing tricks on us? Why am I even thinking these things? Why am I letting these worries creep in and invade my moment of happiness?
If you were cured today, I would silence my mind and enjoy the moment.
If you were cured today, today – this very day – I would pray. I would pray on my hands and knees, at the silence of my desk, and quietly while you are sleeping beside me in the stillness of the night. I would pray bold prayers, quiet prayers, and prayers of thanksgiving.
If you were cured today, I would feel as though I’d made it out of a tornado alive … a perfectly unscathed body rising up amongst the aftermath of destruction. I would look at life differently – how could I not? – and I would cherish the survival lessons that rescued me from the storm.