The beginning of "Thank You" and July 18th

Why is it so hard sometimes to say, “thank you?” Or to receive compliments? That is one of my biggest struggles. I am in a helping profession and I am a helper by nature. Need a jacket, here, have mine! Are you hungry? I’ll make you a sandwich! Need a ride? Hop in! I do all of these things organically, almost to a fault sometimes. But, for some reason when I am on the receiving end, it’s almost too hard for me to accept. To know that people want to help me for some weakness that I have or am experiencing, is uncomfortable. I hate to receive what is perceived as charity, however it fills up my little buckle to give it. It makes zero sense, but for those who know me well, they know that a lot of times things I do or think, don’t make much sense. Therapy time! I tend to make things around me harder for the benefit of helping others. It’s almost an illness, except I can’t take an antibiotic for it, drinking helps though. With that being said, here’s another awful part of having cancer: trying to truly express gratitude and appreciation for the outpouring of love. I know it makes me sound like an asshole,                       “ Whaaaaaaaa, too many people love me and want to help me and now I have to, dare I say it, say thank you?!”  That would actually be a really funny title to a self-help book. Whether I am an asshole or not, it is difficult to show a person how much you appreciate their kind words, their meals, their sentimental cards, their gifts to your children, their remodeling your kitchen (I’ll get to that in a bit), their rosaries, their gift cards, their phone calls, their just “being with you”…do you see where I am going with this? It became far too overwhelming to possibly say thank you when I realized that people really care about me. That my existence could possibly be coming to an end sooner than I thought and maybe, just maybe I have left a positive impression on this earth. It’s overwhelming, it’s astonishing, it’s amazing and it’s downright hard as hell to try and say, “thank you”, because truth be told, “thank you” is nowhere close to what I want to say.

 

July 18^th

I am back home. I made it! We survived the trip! I woke up early this morning and checked the Aiken Horse Rescue website to get information on Fia Mia and how I can adopt her. It’s not as easy as things seemed when I was little. I can’t just call and leave a voicemail that I need a horse and expect someone to drive her on over and drop her off in the yard. I’m going to work a more mature angle, horse adoption 2.0. I’ve decided to write the Board of Director’s an email or letter about the impact Fia Mia has had on my diagnosis and to see information on how to adopt her. Can I share something with you? It’s sort of embarrassing, so I’m glad it’s not going to go any farther than the internet. My hidden agenda is that the Board reads my letter, falls in love with my story and delivers Fia Mia to my doorstep free of charge, sort of like something Ellen DeGeneres would do or Oprah. Looks like I am suffering from arrested development of when I was trying to get my Appaloosa. See what I mean, when I say I don’t make sense a lot of the time? Imagine what Darin has to put with on a daily basis…I also called and left a message at Nevada Equestrian Assistance Therapy to set up weekly sessions with a horse. I’m still set on adopting Fia Mia.

My neighbor Mikey comes over for breakfast this morning and tells me that he can’t keep a secret any longer. Mikey has bought me a horse! Just kidding, but that’s actually the exact thing my brain thought of. Why in the hell would my neighbor (he’s actually our very, very good friend) buy me a horse and where in God’s name am I going to put it? Are you starting to see a trend with my thinking? I make no sense. But man do I love horses. As I am awaiting the secret he’s going to tell me, I am worried that my reaction is not going to be as great as it would be if he really was going to buy me a horse. I’m horrible. What he tells me is better, so thoughtful and leaves me with no possible way to say “thank you.” He says he’s building me brand new countertops as a surprise and said that I’ll need a good distraction to help me heal. I stand speechless. I want to cry, but I can’t. I want to jump on top of him and hug him, but that would be inappropriate. I stand in shock and am blown away by the amount of love and support that I have received. I start to squeal and ask when we can get started. Deep down I feel guilty because I just don’t know how to say “thank you,” because there is no way that is or will ever be enough.