2014: Seeing The Good Despite The Devastation

People always seem amazed that with everything I’ve been through in my 30 years (Multiple Sclerosis, recurring infections, amputation, the death of my friend and Lil Sister, the death of my biological big sister, PTSD and more) that I can still see the good in the world and in my life. I guess it’s just the way I’m made. I wish I had a better answer for it than that but that is the only way I can explain it.

I’ve always said that I’m a realistic optimist. I attempt to find the good in things or at least the humor in it but I’m also realistic that some things are just plain bad. I’ll have been battling recurrent infections in my right leg for 11 years in February. I used to get my hopes up that THIS surgery would be the one that stopped it or THIS medication would be the one that killed it all off for good. Over the years, though, I found that I couldn’t keep thinking that way because my hope balloon never failed to be popped and the more times that happened the more disheartened and depressed I would get. I still hope that one of these days the infections will end with a surgery or a medication but I’m realistic that they may never end. This is what I mean by being a realistic optimist and this is how I generally look at things in my life.

2014 was a really rough year with some seriously devastating events. I spent time in the hospital almost every month for surgery on my nub due to infections. I was told I may never walk with a prosthesis again which I’m oddly OK about but was also told that I have some major decisions about my nub and further surgeries that I'm going to have to make sooner rather than later. I suffered 2 more hemorrhages from my nub (thankfully one was while I was at my PTSD therapist's office because my PTSD went into hyper-drive and he stayed with me every step of the way that day) and developed sepsis scaring the hell out of everyone. My old surgeon was truly afraid that that was the end for me. My chest port, which is vital to my existence because my veins blow after just an hour or two with an IV in them, became infected and had to be removed and later replaced. I switched hospitals and surgeons because the surgeon I’ve had for the last 10 years and I have become far too close and my time in the ICU with sepsis pushed him over the edge. As my sister told a friend, if Bobby ever had to come out and tell my folks that I had died on his OR table it would end him. It’s not like he’s never delivered that particular news before but because of how close we are it would be as though his own daughter had died on that table on his watch.

Of course the final and most devastating blow of 2014 was when that same sister was diagnosed with brain cancer. I’ll never forget September 4^th 2014 because it’s the day that my mom took her to the ER, the day she was diagnosed, and the day that on my drive home from the cardiologist I figured out what was wrong. I knew what they were going to find. I’d been putting the pieces together thanks to my knowing too much medically and having seen what happened when my Lil Sister’s bone cancer spread to her brain. My mom didn’t want to know, all she needed to know was that I was worried which scared her because I rarely show that I’m worried about something especially when it’s medical.  My oldest sister, a beautiful, brilliant, amazing, loving, artistic, quick-witted sister passed away not having even made it a full 2 months from the diagnosis.

Yes, a lot of very hard events took place in 2014 but it hasn’t all been bad. To counter the bad I can honestly say that 2014 has also been a year of good things as well. I was surprised for my 30th birthday by a party with some of the most incredible people I'm proud to call family and friends complete with a book of memories from friends from the past and the most influential people in my life. It is full of messages about life and about me as well as words of wisdom. My family reached out far and wide to create this book even getting in touch with my dear friend who lives in New Zealand. I made some amazing new friends. A friend I haven't seen since the day we graduated high school when I made him open my diploma case and make sure that there really was one in there was in town and knew I was in the hospital. He made a point of stopping to visit and share some laughs as he himself knows what it's like to be hospitalized and quite sick. I spent a lot of time with the unofficial 4^th Jones sister, her amazing husband and got a lot of toddler time in with their beautiful daughter Miss Maya (I even include getting the 1,2,3,4 song from Sesame Street stuck in my head as a good thing)! I had a great dinner with a FB friend and got some Sister From Another Mister time in too. I got to spend some great days with an aunt and uncle we don't see nearly enough and reconnected with an uncle from the other side of the family.

I’ve had a lot of hard years in my 30 years but 2014 takes the cake as the worst and I’m not sad to see it go. I do keep in mind, however, the good things that happened. Why? Because we all get lost in the darkness sometimes and remembering the good times in the light we need to find our way out.

My Sister, My Friend, My Everything

I haven't posted a blog in quite some time because the lives of every member of my family have been turned upside down in a gigantic and heart wrenching way. I am the youngest of 3 daughters. My oldest sister is 7 years my senior and my other sister is nearly 6 years my senior. I am the youngest, the baby of the family, by far.

I've been sick since I was very young. We didn't know it at the time but when I was still a child I was sick with Multiple Sclerosis, a chronic, progressive, debilitating disease of the central nervous system. It wasn't something doctors thought that children got so no one looked for it until 11 years later when an amazing neurologist took the time to really listen to me and run some simple tests. He told me at the time he knew I either had a brain tumor, MS, or ALS and of the three MS was the best option. There's a very sad irony to this that we wouldn't know until September of this year.

MS lesions had been found in my brain in 2003 when he was concerned it might be a tumor. A Stage 4 Glioblastoma - the most aggressive and always fatal form of brain cancer - was found in my oldest sister on Sept 4 2014. She had surgery to remove as much of it as they could but it continued to grow and expand and on November 2nd just two days shy of 2 months my beautiful and brilliant sister passed away here at home surrounded by her family and our cats.

Those 2 months from diagnosis to death were the hardest 2 months of my life and believe me, I've had hard times. I've endured over 50 surgeries including the amputation of my right leg for recurrent infections and have nearly died more times than I care to count between serious bleeds and sepsis. And yet, the worst and hardest 2 months of my life were the months I spent beside my big sister.

I have pretty severe PTSD when it comes to hospitals because of everything I've been through. The noises and the smells and the rooms all trigger me and flood me with horrible memories. While my sister spent over a week in the ICU she had no memory of it. I remember my time spent in ICU and visiting my sister there nearly killed me on the spot. A lot of people told me I didn't have to subject myself to the PTSD demons because whether I was there or not my sister knew i loved her. The thing of it was, this is the sister who absolutely HATED all things medical with a  fierce passion. However, when I was at my sickest, when the reaper was closing in on me, my sister showed up. I had to show up for my sister. I struggle with the PTSD of my days sitting next to her hospital bed still and will continue to. I struggle with the PTSD of being the one in charge of her at night once she came home for hospice care. I have insomnia and I tend to roam around at night when I get restless and knowing that allowed my parents to sleep because there was no doubt that at some point I'd be out there with my sister.

She was pretty non responsive for her month at home in hospice care. I spent a lot of time sitting with her, holding her hand, playing on my iPad and singing along to whatever Pandora station we'd chosen for that day. At night I'd prop my leg up on the bed and start our 1am conversations with "so did I ever tell you about the time I..." I was babbling to myself because she couldn't respond to me but I knew she heard me. She learned a lot about my past and my craziness in those midnight hours.

The final night of my sister's life I knew the end was coming. I grabbed a comfortable chair and pulled it next to her bed. I grabbed the blanket that she had made for me and I grabbed my iPod. I turned on a Peter Gabriel playlist and sat with her listening to music and holding her hand. She looked at me with an eye wide open for hours which she hadn't done in a very long time. Our dad found us there the next morning our hands still together and both of us fast asleep. At 8:25pm Nov 2nd, my sister passed away.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't struggling. I miss her very much. I miss her teasing me and I miss her laugh. I miss her bright smile and I miss hearing "hey chickee" when she answered the phone when I called her. I miss being able to go to her to talk about anything and everything. My other sister and I have joined a club no one should ever have to join - the surviving siblings club. I find peace in the knowledge that my sister loved me unconditionally for exactly who I was, not for who she thought I should be or who I used to be. She loved me for me. She supported me and she protected me the way only a big sister can.

I lost a piece of my heart and I lost a piece of my soul the day my sister passed away. I don't understand why I'm still here. I'm the one who has been sick for years on end and has faced the reaper numerous times and yet, I'm still here. My doctors have feared the day I don't survive for years now and yet, I keep surviving. Why me? Why not my sister? No one can answer those questions. All I know is that I'm here for a reason and though I'm not sure what the reason is, my sister was proud of me and I WILL continue to make her proud.

I know how to be the patient not how to be the sister of one

I have been sick since I was just a little girl, we just didn’t know it. It took around 10 years but I was finally diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis in 2003. My symptoms date back to when I was just 9 or 10. Multiple Sclerosis still is not widely considered a disease that children develop. It is a chronic, progressive, debilitating disease that needs to be treated from the beginning but so many of us go years being told that we’re essentially crazy before finally a neurologist recognizes that the symptoms are real and goes hunting.

I was still fairly newly diagnosed with MS when I went for a routine arthroscopic outpatient surgery on my right knee to correct an old soccer injury. That one small surgery was the spark that ignited the fires of hell in my life. I developed a life-threatening infection in the surgical site.  After that first infection, my knee continued to re-infect no matter how many potent antibiotics were thrown at it. I was even sent to specialist who eventually amputated my leg above the knee after infection and surgery had completely destroyed it leaving me in excruciating pain every minute of the day. I’ve spent the last 10 years in the fight for my life against recurrent infections in my right leg even after the amputation. I’ve had so many surgeries that I’ve lost count.

I know how to be the patient. I know how to be the one who is fighting for her life. I know how to be the one in the hospital bed or the one feeling horrible for weeks on end. I know how to be the one pushing herself through physical therapy and I know how to be the one living with fears she can’t quite find a way to voice. It sucks that I now how to do all of these things but I’d rather it be me. I’ve held on to the severely irrational thought that if I’m the one constantly taking the medical hits that meant that my sisters wouldn’t have to learn how to be the patient. Recently it was proven just how incredibly irrational a thought that is.

I know how to be the patient. I don’t know how to be the sister of one.

My family was recently dealt a massive blow when my oldest sister, someone I love and respect and look up to and admire, was diagnosed with brain cancer. A large tumor was found and removed the very next morning.  We were all in shell shock and we still are. This is the girl with an incredible intelligence. She’s always been so sharp and brilliant and even managed to pass her PhD classes all the while a tumor was growing in her brain.

I’ve been through a lot medically and as a whole the medical world no longer scares me. I know what I’ll go through with each new infection and family and friends sometimes turn to me to help them understand medical situations in their own lives. It is a very rare thing to hear me speak the words, “I’m Scared” even in my own battle for my own life. I’m also not one to cry frequently and am very cautious about who I cry around.

The minute I got the call that my big sister had a brain tumor I felt fear.  I saw my PTSD therapist while my sister was in surgery the following day and I cried. The minute I was told the news from her first post-operative appointment and learned just how bad this cancer is I again felt fear but to an even greater amount. I again saw my PTSD therapist right after and I again cried.

This is my big sister. This is, as life frequently is, unfair. I’m the one who takes the medical hits. My sisters are supposed to be protected by that even though I know that’s an irrational thought.  I’m the one who was the troublemaker and constantly caused problems growing up. My sister never did.  She was a straight A student with an incredible work ethic that has only become more incredible as she has gotten older. This should not be happening.

I’m learning now what it’s like to be on the other side of this particular coin. I’m learning how to be the caregiver instead of the one getting care. I’m learning about the emotional rollercoaster my family and friends are constantly on when I get sick again and again. I’m learning.

I know how to be the patient. I don’t know how to be the sister of one : but I’m learning.

What Can I Do? How Can I Help?

Anyone fighting the most serious of illnesses are supposed to be heroic people. We are supposed to be the ones that everyone looks up to. We are supposed to inspire and we feel the weight of this resting heavily on our shoulders. We irrationally feel it is our duty to be exactly all of those things.

We wage medical war against illnesses that terrify most people and we are considered strong and inspirational because we refuse to give up and let them take us from this world. We are considered brave because when our latest tests come back with bad results we smile on the outside and vow to continue the fight with no doubt in our minds that we will win. We almost never fail to put on a brave face for those we love dearly.

The reality of it all is so very different but we portray that which makes everyone else feel more comfortable.

The strength we show everyone comes from our ability to endure test after test, bad news after bad news, and our willingness to endure serious pain for the chance of coming out on the other end of it healthier and better. We shed our tears in the middle of night so that others can't see our weakness.

The bravery shown is simply the tolerance that we've built up over time for those things that terrify the rest of the world. We've learned that accept that which can not be changed which isn't to say that it doesn't anger and upset us. We just know that it is what it is and dwelling on how things could and should be different gets us nowhere.

In all honesty, if someone in your life is struggling with a serious medical condition you can bet that they aren't always being 100% honest and open with you about how they're feeling. We're far too busy trying to put forth a positive attitude and be strong.

Everyone wants to know how they can help. "What can I do?" is the most commonly repeated question when a person is diagnosed with a serious medical condition of any kind. If you want the completely true response to that question please continue to read.

What can you do? You can listen. There will be times when all we need to do is vent or talk openly and truthfully about the hell that we're going through. You don't have to understand and we don't expect you to. All we need is a listening ear from time to time from someone who won't judge us for whatever it is we need to say. The flip side to that is that you can respect that we don't always want to talk about it and instead we want to be distracted from it.

You can talk to us about all of the good things that are happening in your life because we really do want to know. We may feel envious but we really are happy to hear the good news and know that things are going right in your life. Just because things have taken a sudden and abrupt detour in our lives doesn't mean that we no longer care about yours.

You can forgive us when we cross a line which WILL happen and most likely more than once. We'll say something or do something that we truly don't mean but our emotions get the best of us and because we're in pain we lash out so that we're not the only ones hurting. It's not right and it's not fair but it is the nature of the beast. We don't expect you to not be hurt but forgiving us by realizing that it's our illness speaking and not us goes a very long way.

You can talk to us like we're still the person we've always been and the friend or family member you've always known. You can ask questions like "what's up?" or "did you catch that game last night?" instead of always focusing on our illness by asking "how are you feeling?" right out of the starting gate every time you see us. We don't always want that to be the focus of every conversation we have with you. Yes, illness has and will change us in a multitude of ways but deep down we're still the person you've always known and sometimes we need your help to reach into those depths and become that person again.

Perhaps the most important thing you can do for a friend or family member facing a medical crisis is to learn from us one of the most important lessons of all. Take nothing for granted. No one knows the future and no one knows what tragedies may be in store so live each day to the fullest and realize that nothing...NOTHING...should be taken for granted. Tell the people in your life that you love them every opportunity you get. Take that risk you've been putting off taking. Do that thing you've always wanted to do.

Tomorrow is never guaranteed for any of us. Never forget that.

Borrowed Time

We have all heard the expression, "You are living on borrowed time." Of course, this means to go on living after a time in your life that should have killed you. The phrase actually goes back to the 17th century.

When I was a child I thought that life was infinite. It made perfect sense to me that I, and everyone I knew and loved, would live forever. When I was a teen I was taught that toughest of lessons that we all must learn. When I was a teenager, a child at an institute I worked at for severely disabled children passed away. My paternal grandparents passed away when I was a child but I was too young to understand it and my memories of them are few and far between. In fact, I don't remember my father's mother at all. I'd had friends who'd lost grandparents but death hadn't directly impacted me. When that child I worked with passed away I realized once and for all that there was nothing infinite about life.

When I was 20 I nearly died for the first time. If I had waited one more day to get to the doctor and have emergency surgery, the raging infection within my knee would have been fatal. When I was 25 I stood on death's doorstep again after suffering an arterial hemorrhage from my leg. When I was 27 an accidental overdose, a mistake in the hospital pharmacy sent me to the ICU. Every single infection that I've ever fought has had the opportunity to kill me. I am the very definition of someone living on borrowed time, which is a scary thing to realize. How many times can one beat the reaper before they no longer can? These are not thoughts that I often ponder but now and then they creep through. Yes, I am and have been living on borrowed time for quite awhile now...but so have you.

Life is not infinite as I once believed as a child. Life is very much finite. Life can be over before we even know it. We're all on borrowed time so seize the day. Tell your family that you love them every day. Impart pearls of wisdom to the kids in your life so that they are well prepared for their journey ahead should anything ever happen to you. Try not to raise your voice in anger too often and never raise your hand in anger no matter the situation. Allow people to have their opinions without letting it bother you. It has absolutely nothing to do with you and everything to do with them so it's not worth getting worked up about. Always give everything you do your absolute best. If you want to do something do it. Don't put it off for another day. That day may never come.

We're all living on borrowed time. Life is finite. Remember that. Embrace that. If I have learned nothing else in this fight for my life, it is to live as it tomorrow will not come because one day... it won't.

However Many Hats

Here’s something to know about me… if there is just a tiny little chance of something happening, especially if it’s medical, odds are good that it’s going to happen to me. One of the very rare side effects of the blood thinner Heparin is hair loss. Due to the enormous about of IV medication I’ve taken over the years to combat the serious infections in my right leg, I’m frequently using Heparin especially when I have a PICC line in my arm as I currently do as I wait to have a new chest port put in.

I’m going to veer to the side for a moment for those of you who are not as medically knowledgeable as I sadly happen to be. A PICC line is, by definition, a Peripherally Inserted Central Catheter. It is long, small, flexible tube that is inserted into a peripheral vein in the upper arm snakes up the vein until the catheter tip is in a large vein in the chest near the heart. It is used to obtain IV access in patients who need long term drug therapy. They are also used for patients, such as myself, whose veins have had enough of the constant IVs. At this point I swear my veins see a needles coming and you can almost hear them scream "NOOO I WON'T DO IT! I WON'T GIVE UP ANY BLOOD! I WON’T GIVE YOU ACCESS!" as they run and hide!.

I’ve lost my hair somewhere between 5-7 times over the last 10 years because of Heparin about a month ago it all fell out once again.

There’s a challenge going around social media called 100 Happy Days where you are supposed to post a picture every day of someone or something that made you happy that day. When my hair fell out I posted a status to Facebook joking that instead of 100 Happy Days I would do the However Many Hats challenge with a different hat every day until I ran out of them and I’d start with my own fairly large collection. Suddenly, people were asking for my address so that they could send me hats for this challenge and since then hats have slowly been coming in from all over including my high school. As of today, I’m on hat 26 with many more to go.

It’s been incredible to say the least. I know that so many people want to do something to help me with my health battles between my MS and my 50+ surgeries on my leg for infections and as one person said, “FINALLY! There’s something I can do for you!” Every time a new hat arrives it puts a big smile on my face and I remember that I’m truly blessed. Yes, I have a chronic, progressive, debilitating neurological disease and yes for the last 10 years I’ve been in the fight for my life against infections in my right leg that continue even after the amputation. So then how can I say that I’m blessed you might be tempted to ask?  I am blessed because I have an incredible support system of family and friends who have been there for me every step of the way. They jumped on my Hat Challenge immediately to let me know they care and they are there even if they live across the country or even in another country.  How many people can say that? I know too many seriously ill people who don’t have a support system. They don’t have the family and friends that I do and it makes me sad but it also reminds me how lucky I am for mine and to never take that for granted. Through my family and friends doing things like the Hat Challenge I know that even on my darker days I’m not alone and you have no idea how much that means. People tell me they feel helpless when it all hits the fan for me but please know that being there for me with a text, a call, an email, a comment helps me a great deal.

I love words and I’m always writing and yet I cannot find the words to fully and adequately express how much I appreciate everything that everyone has done and continues to do to try to make this medical hell a little better and brighter.

So for now I will say Thank You and even though that is just two little words they filled to the brim with my love and thanks. 

Realistically Optimistic

By definition, pessimisim is a way of looking at life in a predominantly negative light. Optimisim, on the other hand, is a way of looking at life in a predeminantly positive light. The classic conondrum of pessimism and optimism is the philosophical question of... 

Is the glass half-empty? Or is the glass half-full?

I am neither pessimistic or optimistic. What I am is realistically optimistic.

What I mean by that is simply that when I look at the glass what I see is a glass with something in it. I don't focus on whether it is half-empty or half-full of that something. I focus on the content of the glass. I focus on that something.

For example: I have been through a lot and as of yet there is no definitive reason behind the recurrent infections I've had in my leg. At some point near the very beginning of things I stopped saying, "whew it's over." I stopped allowing my hopes to get too high. Not because I was being pessimistic, but because I was being realistic. I have always held onto hope that things were indeed over and life could finally begin to become normal again but also have always been acutely aware that infection can strike me again at any moment and without warning as it has proven so many times in the past. Does this mean that I am constantly on edge just waiting for the next one to emerge? No. It simply means that I realize that until several years have passed without any infections at all, there are decent odds of it happening again. I choose to live my life each day as though it is over for good without constant worry but due to past experiences I can not allow myself to fully believe that there is no more hell to come. I have had my hopes high and subsequently crushed far too many times before.

I tend to see the good in things, even the worst of things. I choose to learn from experiences. I choose to find the humor in situations. I choose to believe that all things happen as they are meant to happen and that one day the reason or reasons will be revealed to me. I choose to acknowledge the realistic views on things as well.

I don't think that in the end it really matters whether or not that dumb glass is half-empty or half-full. Personally, I feel the argument is a pointless one. I think that what truly matters is what is in the glass. You can argue forever over the condondrum of half-empty or half-full and never get anywhere. If you focus instead on the content of the glass, you will get everywhere. The optimistic part of who I am chooses to believe that the content of the glass is something good but the realistic part of who I am acknowledges that that might not be the case.

This world benefits greatly from the mix of optimism and pessimism. I think that it also benefits greatly from those like myself who factor realism into the equation and perhaps somtimes, it would benefit greater if there were more of us focusing on the content of the glass instead of the emptiness or fullness of it.

Mental Illness & the Death of the Funniest Man on Earth

There is a mental health crisis happening in this country and it’s not new. It’s a crisis that’s been raging for years. I am deeply saddened by the loss of the great Robin Williams but as my friend David has stated, Robin Williams did not die in vain. His death has sparked this nation to start really talking about mental illness and suicide instead of turning a blind eye to it. Depression and other mental illnesses are very real and can be very deadly.

How many school shootings have there been across this country? How many of those have been committed by people with severe mental illness in one form of another? Ages ago we decided that it was wrong to have mental asylums so we shut them down and we dumped those people out onto the street with no help. We simply expected them to “get with the program” and integrate back into society seamlessly.

I have battled depression for years. In fact, it is one of the main symptoms of multiple sclerosis. My family got me help. At the time everyone thought that it was a simple case of Seasonal Affective Disorder. It wasn’t until years later when I was diagnosed with MS that we learned how big a symptom it is of the disease. I spent the years between when I first felt like something wasn’t right and when I was finally diagnosed as a very angry person as well as very depressed. I had a gift for making people smile and laugh but I’d be in my room at night feeling horrible and on more than one occasion, contemplating suicide.

These last 10 years of my life have been a living hell. I know that a lot of people seem to believe that I never have bad days because I’ve been able to keep my sense of humor and even fine-tune it to a degree. I post goofy status updates on Facebook and I post funny graphics and I say and do things that make people smile. If you think that in my fight these past 10 years I’ve never contemplated ending it, you’d be very wrong. I’m not ashamed to admit it. There is truth behind what Bryant McGill said when he said “Comedy is often the sarcastic realization of inescapable tragedy.” Some of the greatest comedians have also fought some of the most devastating pain and suffering. While my sense of humor is nowhere near the caliber of Robin Williams’, I use humor as a shield, a coping mechanism, just as most funny people do. Carol Burnett, Richard Pryor, Stephen Colbert, Chevy Chase, and Russell Brand are just a few of the famous names that suffered great tragedies in life and turned to comedy to relieve the stress and sadness.

If you’ve never experienced such debilitating depression, I’m glad. If you’ve never been down in that deep dark hole, I’m glad. What I’d like to know is what makes you think you have the right to judge anyone who has. Suicide is a last resort and when you get so low as to contemplate it and/or follow through with it, the pain you’re in physically, mentally and emotionally is a pain like no other. No one wants to hurt those they love in this way. It is not the coward’s way out. Robin Williams was a huge supporter of our military. Did you know that every day 22 veterans commit suicide? Are these brave men and women who’ve fought for us cowards? I think not.

When I first got sick with the first few of the many never-ending infections in my leg someone asked me what they could do to cheer me up. My answer was that binge watching some of Robin Williams’ movies would probably do the trick and during one of the hospitalizations that’s exactly what my sister and I did. She crawled into my hospital bed with me and we watched Jumanji, Mrs. Doubtfire, Aladdin, Hook, and The Birdcage. We also watched his 2002 Broadway show which had me laughing hysterically when I didn’t even want to smile.

Instead of blasting Robin Williams for ending his pain and sorrow by ending his life, let’s allow him to teach us lessons. Let’s allow his death to be a wake up call across this nation. Let’s learn more about mental health issues and how we can help others. Let’s do what my sister and I did and binge watch his movies – learn from the serious ones and laugh at the funny ones. Let’s allow him to do what he’s always done best. Let’s allow him to make us smile.

*** If you or someone you know is battling depression and/or is contemplating suicide, please be there for them and try to get them the help that they need. 

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline:

1-800-273-TALK (8255)

Well Robin, your table is ready. I hope you've found the peace you were so desperately seeking. Thank you for the laughs.

What it Means to Be Strong

The phrase “you’ve got to be strong” is one we’ve all heard numerous times over the years when our lives suddenly veer off course for any number of reasons such as a serious illness or injury, financial problems, having a loved one deployed to a war zone or the sudden loss of a job. It may be due to an event that directly affects us or perhaps it’s an event that happens to someone we know and love. Whatever the case may be, “you’ve got to be strong” is one of those good old standby responses people say when they aren’t really sure what else to say. We’ve all heard it and we’ve all said it. I, myself, said it just the other day to a new amputee and it got me thinking.

What does it really mean to be strong and what is it about a person that earns them the label of being strong? Surely this strength we all hear about and talk about has nothing to do with our physical muscles and abilities for appearances are often deceiving. A person can have a perfectly toned and strong exterior while on the inside they are falling apart making their strong exterior nothing more than a mask. So again I ask what it all means. What qualifies someone as strong? The simplest answer is that the strength we all hear about and talk about is a combination of a person’s mentality and their emotional strength. For someone like me, however, that answer is far too generic and doesn’t really answer the question.

I’ve been told that I possess a great amount of strength although I don’t view myself or my actions as such. Instead I simply view it as doing what I have to do to survive and achieve my goals. While I never quite know how to respond to it and have a hard time seeing myself that way, I do understand why people feel that way about me and I certainly know many people that I personally view as possessing a great amount of strength. Drawing on my observations of such people in my life and my observations of complete strangers I’ve crossed paths with while sitting in waiting rooms or during my various hospitalizations I’ve compiled my own criteria for what I feel being strong means.

I believe that the Serenity Prayer is a perfect example of some of the qualities a strong person possesses. Strong people have the ability to recognize that there are some things in life that can not be changed no matter how much we might want them to change and no matter how hard we try to make it so. Strong people also have the ability to recognize that there are things we CAN change in our lives and they are willing to put in the effort and time to make those changes. Most importantly, strong people have the ability to tell the difference between that which we can change and that which we can not. Instead of dwelling on what can’t be changed, strong people throw themselves wholeheartedly into what they can change and refuse to give up and refuse to lose hope no matter how tough the going gets.

Strong people do not see tears as a sign of weakness but instead realize that sometimes crying is exactly what is needed. Being strong means not hiding the tears and daring to carry on afterward with your head held high. Strong people don’t dwell on or get stuck in the bad moments. They may linger there a short while but they recognize the importance of getting back up every time they fall and continuing to push forward. Strong people don’t hide from the truth and aren’t afraid to face the music of their mistakes. Being strong means confronting the sometimes ugly truth, accepting it and learning from mistakes. Strong people don’t run from change. Instead they stand tall and face it no matter how painful the blows landed by the fists of change may be. Strong people don’t let ego or pride control them. Being strong means tossing those things to the side and not being afraid to ask others for help. Strong people don’t allow the bad things that have happened consume them and make them bitter angry people. Instead they search out the silver lining and focus on the positive things. Strong people know that it’s not about how many of life’s dragons you are able to destroy on your own. Being strong means recognizing that you are not alone and acknowledging the people in our lives who gladly shoulder some of the burden without ever having been asked to do so. Strong people know that, as the late Elizabeth Edwards once said, “There’s a trick to being strong, and the trick is that nobody does it alone.”

These are just a few of the qualities that we recognize in those people we call strong and these are just a few of the qualities that we are meant to be reminded of when we are told that we need to be strong. It is a simple fact of life that hard times will find each and every one of us to some degree and what might appear to be a miniscule struggle to one person may in fact be the Mount Everest of struggles to another. No one sets out specifically seeking a multitude of struggles in their lifetime and yet it is precisely the struggles we face that build us up, make us stronger, and mold us into the people we are today.

I’m certain that if you were to look up what strength means in the dictionary you’d find quite an assortment of definitions. If you then chose 10 people and added a handful of their personal definitions of what it means to be strong I have no doubt that you’d be able to compile an assortment of definitions that would fill multiple pages. But it doesn’t matter how many definitions and synonyms for being strong there might be. What matters is that we each discover what our own personal definition of strength is and that we try our best to live up to it.

I started this with two simple questions in hopes of this blog possibly being a lantern to help illuminate the paths of those who are still trudging slowly through the darkness. What does it really mean to be strong? And what is it about a person that earns them that label? I will end this blog by asking one more. What is YOUR definition of what it means to be a strong person?