On my desk is an army of little lego warriors, princesses of course, but strong, with weapons in each hand, and they stand guard beside my computer, cheering me on and fighting the cancer along with my little lego warrior that my son labeled the cancer fighter on that day that seems so long ago now. They are physical manefestations of friends, and their presence cheers me on like the badge on so many sites cheers me as well. They are incredible gifts, and to those friends, I thank you. I meant to write an amazing post about them and you and friendship, but my hands shake in the morning, and I rest after school pickup, and the stars never aligned and I’m sorry. But still they stand guard, weathering attacks of the giant preschooler and his sweeping arm, and coming with me to the oncologist and basically reminding me once again that I’m not alone.
I’m so lucky.
The lego princesses need to be called out by name, and so here they are. Their names are etched on the back of each so that I will always remember who is who, and know that you are fighting along with me. Thank you, C. Mom, (cheerleader and rock star, with pom poms and syringe), Jessica (Robin Hood with bow and arrow), Justice Stacey (Leia-like princess with sword and cape), Sue (coffee cup and flame thrower), Elaine (battle gear and “boomer”), Amy (grenade and big stick to beat the crap out of cancer), Jean (ponytail and giant club that makes her topple over if she’s not holding it just the right way), Mama Echo (business suit and spear), Kiam (also with bow and arrow), and Julie B (the redhead, who is so badass that she scares me a little). You are awesome. We are awesome. I will not give up.
Once upon a time, I thought that admitting my weaknesses and fears on the internet would make people think less of me, both here and in the professional world. I never foresaw the real effect of sharing this journey with you and encouraging you in your own struggles via your blogs and Facebook – together, we have all become stronger.