Guest at My Own Funeral

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I sobbed as I sat on the edge of my bed reading the comments from family and friends in reaction to my blog post, “Breaking Point.” Dozens of people responded to the pain I felt when I learned last week that I require a second scan to determine if a lump inside my body is the root of my recent leg numbness, fatigue, disrupted sleep, and hair loss.

I didn’t mention my test to anyone other than my fiancé and my friend, Kiada. I couldn’t or should I say didn’t even call my parents because my father was facing a new medical challenge of his own. I thought staying silent would lessen their worry. Yet, as the anxiety welled up inside me, I took to my computer to release my thoughts.

I poured out my mental torment in an essay that, I suspect, caught many people off guard. I didn’t know or believe that many folks would care or they’d be disappointed in me. However, I received posts, emails and calls of inspiration. Instead of viewing my doubts about continuing on as a weakness, I was seen as strong for all that I’ve overcome.

I cherished every word wondering if this is what it’s like to be a guest at your own funeral. I quickly realized it is better actually. I thank God for bringing me back from the brink so I can hear that I’m loved while I’m alive and giving me the chance to say thank you for loving me.

#autoimmunedisease #chronicillness #chronicpain #igg4 #disability #survivor #funeral #prayer #loveconquersall #morethanaconquerer

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