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Today, celebrate National Boss day by taking the time to celebrate your business, your success, and, of course, you—the boss.
A Time Never to be Forgotten: Chemotherapy
If I had three words to describe chemotherapy, they would be: Sick, Sick, Sick. You feel sick while you sit in a chair for three and a half hours and taste the medicine that is dripping from the bags into the veins. You feel sick as you get home, throw up and then crash—simply sleeping the days away. You feel sicker knowing that in three weeks, as soon as you begin to feel better, you get to do it all over again. Yet, it was through this sickness that I began to see miracles happen. It was at this time I began to see life in a different light.
One of my favorite things about Chemotherapy was spending time with my mom and the women there. Mom would always go on a treat run for me. I would eat candy to displace the taste of medicine in my mouth. We would laugh and talk and it wasn’t all bad.
I often had visitors come with me. One special visitor came to almost every one of my appointments. She is definitely one of God’s angels that came to help me smile, make me feel good and show she cared. I don’t think she will ever know how truly grateful I am for the time she spent with me.
I had a great job while going through treatments where I was able to just sit. And some days that was all I could do. I had professors who allowed me to work on my last few classes long distance so that I could graduate in June. I ordered books and read and wrote papers. Oh, I forgot to tell you that chemotherapy makes it impossible to concentrate and remember what you read. As I look back on what I accomplished during that time of chemotherapy, I know it was because of the many prayers, fasts and simple pleas to my Father in Heaven. God answers prayers.
Race for the Cure
A very special time of year is Mother’s Day. It was this weekend in 2004 that I had an incredible experience at Race for the Cure. I had just received chemo the day before so I was heavily drugged with chemo and anti-nausea medicine.
I don’t remember much about this day, but I do remember the support and love I received. My mom, Hillary, Stephanie, Andrea, Aunt Holly, Melissa, and Mandy all put their white shirts on and then they wrote on a sheet of paper: “In Celebration of Natalie Overson.” I tear up simply thinking about those signs on their shirts.
We walked the mile race and laughed, but didn’t go very fast, because I was slow moving. We hit the finish line and cheered.
After the race, all the survivors met at the tent for the survivor’s parade. I walked with a rose in my hand with hundreds of women surrounding me. We followed a bag-pipe band to a set of steps.
While I was standing there, it was as if time had stopped just briefly and everything was moving slow. I was all alone in a crowd and I felt misplaced until I scanned the faces of the women standing by my side. I did not know any of them, yet I was part of them and they were part of me. The reality that I had breast cancer was clearer than it had ever been. I knew that I would wear pink shirts and race for the cure until the end of my life.
To be continued…
Storybooking is a celebration of life. Celebrate yours today.