OSM! Writer Tells About Triumphant Fight vs. C

The Promise of Healing

 

gladioli wilting…

while 5 hopeful Iris buds

promise life, healing.

 

Haiku

By Sylvia Hubilla

 

Austin, Texas — It was the beginning of the “ber” months.  I happily looked forward to cool weather, colors of fall, and of course, early Christmas carols on the airwaves. Instead, I was told the C word no one wants to hear. Surprisingly, it didn’t sink in until I got home. I decided, I wasn’t about to start counting the lemons thrown at me earlier.  So I told myself instead, “Hey, let’s make lemonade!”

After scheduling doctor appointments, and my surgery, I decided to get busy with something I can do during my impending two week isolation.

I jumped right in and joined the group wanting to come out with our own community publication in the senior community where I live. By October 15, we launched the maiden issue of our monthly, The Lodge Listener.  It is just a 4 page, black and white, newsletter.

I had my surgery.  Worked on the publication from my computer, while I was in isolation for 2 whole weeks after my radiation therapy.  If I felt weak or just down, I would go to my bathroom mirror, to see if I’ve been zapped enough to look like Einstein with my frizzy, undyed hair, just for laughs.  Thank goodness, I was in isolation!

Before I took the radioactive capsule, my good friend came to visit, bearing gifts. One of which was a stem of her precious iris in bloom. It was beautiful.

“There are tiny buds which might bloom,” she told me. This was a special gift, because I knew how she treasured and loved her irises. How truly special, I would soon find out.

I kept it in the living room outside, so it could at least get some sun through my balcony glass door.

A few days into my isolation, my iris looked like this – 5 buds, in the middle of my radioactive, off-limits apartment. It was thriving, pregnant with the promise of life, and healing.

I made an impromptu altar in my living room, and placed my iris there. It gave me joy to look at it when I said my prayers.

Each day I woke up and opened my bedroom door, the fragrance of an Iris bud opening, wafted in and filled my apartment with hope. Those buds kept my spirits up and my faith strong.  Before each flower wilted, another bud would burst into bloom. It kept me company throughout my isolation.

I thank God and ask Him to bless this angel friend, who gave me a gift of hope and strength. (Photos by Sylvia Hubilla)