It Really is Worth It

I don't think I will ever forgot how miserable it all is. How they start you out on the strongest dose you can take, and lower it as your body starts to give up the battle. I have no doubt that I've been pushed off the high dive again - feeling though it's against my will, but knowing I need to take the plunge.

And as I knelt there last week with my head buried in the toilet once again, I asked myself if it really is worth it.

Then I woke up on Saturday morning and Kyle told me that someone I never met, but had much in common with, had lost her battle the night before. And I'm given that slap-in-the-face reminder that there is now a little boy whose mother will not be there to wake him up for his first day of kindergarten, or smile at him from the audience as he shyly stands on stage for his first school program, or be that stalwart lighthouse as he grows into a man.

And I remind myself that it really is worth it.

Even when I'm sick in bed, there's always room for this.

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