I'm grateful to be alive. Five years ago, it was an unlikely thing. I'm grateful I've had the five years with my two daughters, and with my W. I'm grateful I'm awake from my fog, that I care about so many things with a passion I've not felt in years.
I'm grateful I have a job that pays me well; that my parents are alive, healthy and happy. That I live in the USA instead of some sub-saharan hell hole.
I'm grateful that my oldest daughter loves to swim like a mermaid, that my youngest loves nothing more than for me to pull her around the pool.
I'm grateful that my W is working as hard as she can on our M. That God has given me the strength and humility to trust him to watch over me and support me through this trial.
I'm grateful for the teachers who trained the surgeon who saved my life, the oncologist who kept my cancer from returning. The nurses who showed kindness when most of their patients die.
There's too much to be grateful for when you stop wallowing in Limbo, or stewing in your own anger and pain.
