Today marks 5 years from a simultaneously scary and sacred day. 5 years ago, my dad rushed me to the hospital where I discovered I had a ruptured appendix, that it had likely ruptured TWO DAYS before and I was now in danger of losing my life. After lots of drugs, emergency surgery, and waking up to a hospital ceiling, I was told that the infection in my body was really bad, that I was really sick, and that I might not make it.
I couldn’t eat for a week. It hurt to move, to be touched, to walk, to do anything. Strength left my body. There came a time where I wasn’t sure if I could keep going. I didn’t know if I had anything left in me. And I seriously considered giving up, letting go, being done. My mother sat with me while I stared at the line between death and life. Finally I said, “Fine, I won’t give up. But I’m not sure how this is going to work.”
Well, something must have worked because I’m alive. My strength slowly came back over the next months and I saw the world differently. I went around to all my friends and told them why they were special to me. I started appreciating each moment, each breathe as sacred and precious.
This morning I woke up with a stomach ache and a whole mix of emotions. This afternoon it dawned on me – today’s the day I almost died. I think my body remembers, and was trying to tell me “Hey, something important happened this day”.
I don’t want to forget. I desire to be present to each sacred moment of life, each shared conversation, smile, and time together. I’m thankful to be alive. I’m thankful to be.