roses-on-flesh
Photo by cymagen.

So I finally have chemo tomorrow insha-Allah.

It’s been cancelled twice before due to UCSF scheduling issues but it appears to be going through this time as I have not yet heard otherwise.

My second infusion will take place on the 31st – my birthday.

Birthdays are just random days, although they seem blessed because that’s when we tumbled into the world. I was thinking about what an odd way it is to spend a birthday – hooked up to an IV being pumped full of a toxic substance, that strangely and by God’s will, has allowed me to thrive since October.

When I moaned about it, Basil reminded me that it was a day spent in ensuring, by His grace, another year free of illness. Then, it seemed no day could be better spent.

(That’s one of the many reasons I love him, because he always gives me a fresh and needed perspective.)

Back when I started the treatment I couldn’t imagine getting through four weeks without being struck down with another spinal inflammation. It was just a matter of where it would be concentrated and how bad it would be this time. Would I lose movement in my big toe, or my whole leg? Would it stop there or would the paralysis crawl up to my chest, threatening my lungs?

It’s now been nine months and counting since the last hospitalization. These days and months have been an incredible blessing. Of my last three birthdays I have spent two blind, and will spend this one having chemo. But alhamdolillah, each step I take and each sight I see is a reminder of when I could do neither.

People tell me it’s odd that I consider this illness a blessing. But through it I have become more humble, grateful, content, and attuned to the joyous beauty He has created all around us and gifted to us. Infinite blessings stretch in each direction, surround and suffuse us at every turn though sometimes I am barely aware of them, stupidly caught up in day-to-day frustrations, quibbling, and stress.

I cannot take a step without remembering Him, without murmuring alhamdolillah. As soon as I think that I still walk slower than I used to before I got sick, I remember last June when I came home with a walker and could only shuffle a slow half block before exhaustion and tears overtook me. Yesterday, I walked miles across my beautiful city, and though I paid for it by exhaustion to the point of immobilization last night, today is another day and energy courses through my body, subhan-Allah.

When I notice that my optic nerves are still damaged making things blurry and glasses necessary, I remember last July when I traveled across the country as an almost-blind person to be with the newborn twins, my niece and nephew, for three precious days and the bottomless sorrow I felt at not being able to see their dear faces clearly. Now, I can see the far-off hills and the dark, infinite sky at night – and the blurriness just makes the stars look bigger, subhan-Allah.

There is always a reminder, every single day, often so many reminders that when the time for prayer comes I find gratitude filling me up, overflowing from my eyes and resting in sujood (prostration). My great-grandmother used to say, the heavier a tree is laden with flowers or fruit, the more deeply it bows in gratitude.

I cannot help but think that my tears and blood and pain have nourished something beautiful by His grace, like roses feasting on my flesh.

My Lord, forgive me for my forgetfulness, for my ingratitude, and I thank You for these daily reminders and for Your infinite gifts. Please grant me shifa (health) and remembrance of You every day of my life.

—

Please keep me in your prayers.

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