Happy Endings

Years back when I was first diagnosed with cancer the prognosis was grim. So, I read every book I could get my hands on. I started off with the "official" handbook on ovarian cancer from the doctor's office. Then my sister sent some books written by women who had survived. I was intriqued by their stories of survival and felt that if they were writing their stories five years later, then there was hope for me. I read them all, but after a while, I started getting better. I became my own survival story.

This past winter I was driving to my therapist's office (not surprised, are you?) and the radio announced that Elizabeth Edwards had passed away. It immediately took my breath away and suddenly I couldn't drive fast enough to my therapist's office. I wasn't even particularly a big fan of hers. I couldn't explain my intense reaction to her death.

When I sat down and told him the news and how it affected me, he helped me realize that once again I had placed my own hopes of survival on someone else that I related to. Also, her life had fallen apart before her eyes, and while she appeared to be moving forward, she died (at least in my eyes) without a happy ending.

So the lesson that I took away that day was not one of surviving cancer or succumbing to it, but one of happy endings. I have become determined that if my ending comes six months or ten years from now, it will be happy indeed.