Gratitude

Today, I am grateful. After eighteen months of fear, uncertainty, anger, weariness and despair — today, I feel hope. It is finally the day that the two youngest members of my immediate family have been vaccinated against COVID-19, making our family circle of protection complete. 

As a pediatric hospitalist, I have seen plenty of acute COVID and MIS-C. I have nearly lost my mind trying to home-school my children in the early days of the pandemic, while also working full time.

Each morning when I wake, my first thoughts are of gratitude—for the soft bed in which I lay, deliciously warm as I pull my down comforter around my shoulders.

Yes, I may also be experiencing nausea, diarrhea, neuralgia, an acne-like rash reminiscent of my teenage years covering my face and bald head, and the permanent swelling in my left arm from lymphedema. The side effects of cancer treatments seem endless.

When I finally called and told my in-laws that I was six-and-a-half months pregnant with a baby boy, they were over the moon! I had lost two babies as miscarriages before my son and daughter were born, so I was wary of breaking the news early. We decided to name him after my dad Joseph, as my oldest was named after my father-in-law!

A few days later, working as a nurse in a local hospital, I went in to help one of the nursing attendants put a patient on a stretcher.

I was diagnosed with stage 4 ovarian cancer after three weeks in the hospital, not being able to eat or drink. All that time I had a nasogastric tube that caused a dry sore throat, yet I was grateful for having the tube because it eased my abdominal pain.

As a little girl, I ended every day reciting the “Now I lay me down to sleep” prayer. As a septuagenarian, I continue the nightly practice of praying—emphasizing my gratitude for all the people who have enriched my life.