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Hubster and I took an Alaskan cruise several years back. We boarded a ship, set sail, met
new people - all headed for the same destination. The ship staff's main goal was to insure that we were happy, pampered and had our needs met.
We hobb knobbed with people from all walks of life, of varied ages and from all parts of the US. Some were wealthy and the trip didn't even dent their bank accounts while others no doubt mortgaged the farm to fulfill their dream. But as we sat together in the dining room, we were all on equal ground. It didn't matter. We were living the high life.
And now, I'm experiencing somewhat the same thing.
As I sat in the parking lot on Monday morning, allowing myself a few final moments of thought...
What's it going to be like? Will my body respond to the treatments? Can I chicken out and go home?
I received a phone call from my son telling me he loved me. It was quite unexpected and very serendipitous. I'm sure the L~rd planned that one. I breathed a last prayer and made my way into the waiting room to begin the new adventure.
I met with Dr I who went over my chart and our consultation meeting. We discussed my present health. Then I was ushered into the infusion room to begin my first bag o' gold.
What a difference from the hospital infusion room where I had my PICC line inserted. Night and day!
The atmosphere was cheerful and hopeful. Conversations filtered around me. Already, the meet and greet was in gear.
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"See you tomorrow."
"Let's do this again."
Yes. I made the right decision. This is a place of healing. With every drop of liquid in my veins, every swallowed capsule, every smile, every conversation, new friend, touch - my body, my soul and my spirit are being renewed, restored, refreshed.
I'm on a journey of recovery. I'm on a cruise.
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