The third year

Italian

And so, today is my third year anniversary.

Three years ago, while I observed, full of hope, a wonderful nurse hung a sack on a hospital trestle, next to many other sacks hanging top down.

There was an amazing amount of love and spirit of sacrifice inside that blood red package. It was my brother's bone marrow.

Three years ago, my leukemia was washed away with the most noble fluid which courses in a body, along with a deep cleansing by chemo and radio therapies.

Since then, to my great good fortune, this tremendous illness has not reappeared.
Many other things have happened though!

Comforted by those who had the same reaction before me, I have changed how I look at life.

I was able to meet people whose friendship is a particular source of pride and to whom my thoughts of profound gratitude are frequently directed.

I also had to learn how to manage the ignorance of those who misinterpret the story of a survivor, and see it as exhibitionism, instead of a way to help others when saying “I did it and so can you!”

I came to realize that those people are not able to even slightly understand the point to which a life can be turned upside down, from one day to another. Yesterday healthy, today destroyed, tomorrow... perhaps tomorrow will never be!

Those who make judgements from nothing should be avoided. They live in a bubble of blessed ignorance, and it would be better for them to continue their lives without knowing nothing of all of this.

Dear friends and acquaintances have been lost because of illnesses like mine. I've seen them affront and accept their destiny with a dignity that is impossible to describe. Now, while thinking of them, it is difficult to breathe because of the lump in my throat.

I have learned that escaping once might not be sufficient, and that a relapse is always a concrete risk. The night becomes very long indeed if one begins to think about things like that.

I've been struck in the face by the fact that every medicine, every therapy, in addition to the desired effects, always provokes undesired ones.  In my preceding “healthy” life of unawareness these rarely went beyond stomach acid or a sense of weakness.
But, the therapies I am referring to can create violent reactions on the skin, disfunctions of the circulatory system, can inhibit or alter taste, smell and hearing... And can destroy bones: I'm paying my tribute with my hips, one of which is seriously compromised since a year.

Thus, I've come into contact with a new condition, that of a crutches user. It's interesting to
note how these colored sticks can scare adults and make children curious... (and how often when I place them against a wall they immediately fall to the ground).

I've met a crowd of people who, for all sorts of reasons, are already in the water at 7:30 in the morning, to do their physiotherapy.

I've faced the cynicism of certain orthopedic doctors, who praise patients for the efforts made while concluding that sooner or later they'll have to operate.

I've understood that there is another way! We have to search for it alone, though,  because it is helpful for only a few.

Then, there is the hyperbaric chamber, with its many fans and detractors.
“It's completely useless.”
“It can be miraculous.”
“It can't hurt you, so why don't you try? Then, we'll see...”
My experience has been that the progress is very evident.  I need much more, however,
and don't know if I can obtain it with this.

These three years haven't been easy.
The comments like “think how much you've overcome; this part is nothing” by now have completely filled my head until they exit from my ears.
As if, for a survivor of an airplane crash, alive by a miracle,  it was enough to have escaped death. Would he be content to remain tied to a wheelchair for the rest of his life?

I've cut my safety belts. Along with some of those fortunate ones such as me, we've left the site of the tragedy and returned to our homes. I am living my life hoping for the best possible quality, without constantly thinking that, for a hair, I am not in hyperspace.

I owe this to my family and myself.

Now, a thought, full of emotion, to the fine souls who are watching me... to those who struggle and find themselves at the half-way point... to the professionals and to the people whose humanity makes this possible...

Raise the glass: three years of Life 2.0!