When Gratitude Just Isn’t the Right Word

Today is a milestone in my life.  A day to remember where I’ve been, to think about where I am, and to dream about where I want to be in the future.

Four years ago today when the alarm went off at 4:30 in the morning, I had to try and kiss my sleeping little ones goodbye, not knowing what the journey that lay ahead of us was going to look like.

This morning, as the alarm went off at 4:30, the only kisses i was giving out were to the Husband as he left for the gym.

At this time 4 years ago, I was prepping for my pre-surgery MRI.  Today . . . well, I’m writing this, helping my son build some lego, and hoping that my daughter is up soon so we can make a special breakfast together.

Right about the time I was heading into a 12 hour surgery four years ago, this year at that time I’ll be doing school drop offs and then (thanks to the miracle that is the universe), I’ll be heading to Yorkdale to a little shopping . . . after which I’ll be heading to the gym.

I am beyond grateful for this delightfully ordinary day.  And am beyond grateful for all those that have helped me over the last 4 years with a recovery process that has had it’s moments.

And above all, I am beyond grateful for the amazingly talented surgeon who went the extra mile, took the extra time, and made sure that he got out as much of my tumour as possible.  I was fortunate to be able to participate in a video tribute to Dr. Gentili a few months ago.  For those of you who haven’t seen it, take a look; we are so lucky to have the doctors we do in this country.

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