My Hands Aren't Shaking

 Again, much of Thursday is a blur of sleep, episodes of “The Great”, and, well, sleep. I slept a lot on the days when I didn’t have a treatment—I was making up for years of restless insomnia. Or—let’s be real—I was just freaking tired.

Friday morning, we packed up our hotel room and hit the road for the 10-minute drive to the “Life is Ketaful” clinic. We arrived and my treatment was started. This time, we were shooting for 90-95% dosage and I was more prepared for the experience than I had been either of the other times I had a treatment. I knew, somewhat, what to expect and I had made a playlist especially for this time.

The floating experience I had felt during the second treatment returned and I was carried from the room on a wave of classical music and marshmallow clouds. I also saw many pieces of crocheted yarn. They were beautiful, bold colors and they made up a dream-catcher that I felt was created especially for me.

I don’t want to describe the details too closely, because I feel that this part of my journey is incredibly personal and I don’t want to insinuate that anyone else’s experience should be exactly like mine. However, I will say that it was a unique, wonderful experience and I am thankful to have had it.

After the treatment, mom and I left to come back to Dothan. It is a 7 hour drive, and we took turns driving. We stopped for coffee and I held up my hands in front of me. I looked at them—examined them in disbelief—and I said, “My hands aren’t shaking”. For the first time in years—my hands weren’t shaking from anxiety. I was mesmerized as I stared down at my still fingers and palms.

I was hesitant to say much else about how I felt because I was afraid that it wouldn’t last. The truth is, I felt lighter and as if the weighted blankets I’d been carrying for months had lifted off of my shoulders for a moment of relief. I knew the weight was still there and I knew that I wasn’t completely out of the dark, but for the first time in months, I also knew that light existed somewhere. I can’t put into words how it feels to go from believing that there is no light left in your world, to knowing deep within your soul that the light exists and there is hope of seeing it again one day.

Saturday and Sunday I was tossed—not-so-gently—back into the real world as I worked the two 16-hour shifts I was scheduled for on both days.

I have no idea what the future holds, but I feel like I’m headed in the right direction. I will get home at midnight tonight from work and my mom and I will leave around 4am heading back to Ormond Beach for the remaining 3 treatments I have left.

I am acutely aware of just how many people are praying, sending good vibes, and reaching out to me during this journey. I am incredibly blessed to have a wonderful support system, and I am immensely grateful.