Words That Sustained Me

Last Spring and Summer, a remarkable number of people sent me "Get Well" cards. To me anyway, it was certainly a remarkable and totally unexpected number: there were over 40 of them. And there were all the sweet and supportive things folks wrote here in the blog. And then there were many e-mails -- often written by folks whose software wouldn't let them comment on the blog.

But I'm writing today about the cards.

The cards have been displayed on our mantelpiece since they arrived, but it's time now to collect them and tuck them into an envelope for safe keeping. Christmas cards are arriving -- and the "Get Well" cards have already worked their magic.

Many of the cards contained words that slipped right through all my defenses and neuroses, my anxieties and fears, and touched my heart. There were phrases in these cards that would echo through my mind as Deb and I drove to yet another treatment session, yet another doctor's appointment.

And I thought I would share some of them with you, with the hope that you will never need them. Some of these words were pre-printed on the card and some of them were written by the sender. When you think about it, it probably doesn't matter...

The first one is the one that touched me most deeply -- and still brings tears to my eyes:

"At the times when it's most difficult to believe that there will ever be better days ahead, I will be here to do the believing for you..."

Others (in no particular order) include:

"Recovery is more than a mending of the body... It is an easing of the mind, a calming of the heart, and a healing of the spirit."

"Remember that with lots of hair or some hair or no hair, you are still Randy!"

"Wishing you tranquility, and hoping you know how much you are loved."

"May you have strength at your backdoor, so you have it when you need it... May you have courage in your pocket, so you know where to find it... And, always, may you have hope in your heart, so you never misplace it."

"Sending you support and encouragement... Know that I care."

"Rest. Renew. Restore. Heal. Be well."

"I'm not sure what to do, I'm not sure what to say. But one thing's for sure... I promise to pray."

"I know you are strong. You have a dear, caring helpmate and many friends who are hoping and praying for your full recovery. Count me as one of them."

"I believe in mystery and miracles and the magic of a new day. I believe in angels and natural wonders and the beauty inside people. I believe in rainbows and happy endings and dreams-come-true... I believe in a bright-and-shining tomorrow ahead for you."

"There is a circle of caring all around... and you are right in the middle."

"The human spirit is stronger than anything that can happen to it."

Last, but certainly not least, I received a card from my dino-hunting buddies in Alberta. Eight folks wrote notes inside the card and signed it. And almost all of the messages included the magic phrase: "next year."

It is, I think, unavoidable that -- from time to time during an extended series of treatments like mine -- you will feel utterly alone and that no one could possibly understand what you were going through. And it was during these times that the evidence of the cards came roaring into my life and said: "You are not alone! Not now. Not ever."