Courage and Fear

May is working for me. Third day in a row that was just excellent. Let's maintain this ascent.

A few recurring themes continue to arise. Fear and courage. Bravery and weakness. My friend Colleen sent me a handmade prayer shawl, filled with pure positive energy. Accompanying the shawl was a copy of a sermon on Fear. It resonated.

Throughout this process, what I hear over and over is people telling me how brave and strong I am.

I don't feel brave. Or particularly strong.

Courage? Half the time I feel like the cowardly Lion shrinking away from what is to come. I almost cannot bear the thought of three more rounds of chemotherapy. Or, shall I say, the cumulative side-effects of three more rounds of chemotherapy. I. Just. Don't. Want. To. Go. Again.

But, seriously, I don't think that I am handling this in any more courageous way than others dealt a similar hand. For example, my sister Yael. She went through breast cancer five years ago and powered through it with the fearless grace she always emanates. She didn't seem to worry about some of the issues tugging at me, like the hair. She just did what she had to do.

When I say I don't understand why people tell me I am brave, I mean it. I don't know how else to handle this? I am just doing what I have to do to get to the other side.

Am I afraid? Fear is an interesting concept. After losing three brothers and one dear friend, perhaps I feel like I've faced death already. I truly don't fear it. In fact, I haven't considered it an option in this ride. I'm too stubborn to not morph into an old bat. I've got plans of careening down the 101 in a big cadillac, you know, the 90 year old raisin who can barely see over the steering wheel? Yelling at all the other drivers to clear the way? Not so different from today.

I'm not afraid to make a fool of myself. I'm not afraid to push boundaries and try something at least once. I've been called reckless and I've been accused of being an idealistic romantic. I've made many mistakes, some of them of gargantuan proportions. Yet, I really don't regret any of the less than stellar judgment calls. Because I was not governed by fear.

What do I fear now? That life will pass me by as I'm in my incubator bottle. That I will miss out on important events in my friends and families' lives because I'm so focused on this battle. That I won't be there for those who need my support.

Fear: it won't rule my life. It cannot. Like Marianne Williamson says, everything in life stems from either love or fear. Everything.

I choose love this time around.