I could look at it as eight months of battling a disease but that's just not how I see it. Instead, it's eight months of receiving overwhelming support from friends, relatives and even strangers. A day doesn't go by without an email or a card or a phone call wishing me the best and encouraging a full recovery. These gestures of kindness are more important to me than I can express in words.
The greatest form of support has been from my caregivers. I am required to have a caregiver with me at all times. They live in my little apartment, they go to clinics with me, they keep track of medicines and appointments and harass me when I am not obeying the doctors.
They do all this without expectations of payback. Their work is mostly unnoticed except by myself but I'll admit that they unintentionally place a great burden on my shoulders. How could I ever thank them for their sacrifice? Although I carry this burden of guilt, I know that my payment to each caregiver is to simply get better.
So for my caregivers as well as the hundreds of people who have reached out, and for myself, I AM getting better. I feel it every day. There are only 68 days left. I'm coming home!
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