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  • Martha Rasche

Thank You

Thank You to:

Those who cleaned my litterbox.

Those who mowed my grass and trimmed my weeds.

Those who brought me meals.

Those who brought me ice cream and smoothies.

Those who gave me flowers.

The person who shaved my head.

Those who did my grocery shopping and laundry when I didn't have the energy.

Those who called me on the phone.

Those who took me to the hospital, and those who visited me there.

Those who sat by my bedside, especially on bad days.

Those who helped me plod through insurance problems.

The person who anonymously made a huge advance payment on my utility bills.

The person who forwarded some cash to me, so I'd have one less reason to worry for a few weeks.

Those who sent me cards, emails and Facebook messages.

Those who made me chemo hats, port pillows and prayer shawls.

Those who sent me a worry stone and those who sent me a prayer rock.

Those who gave me a rosary, a cross and angels.

Those who gave me books, for passing time and for inspiration.

Those who made me thank-you cards so I could send handmade ones.

Those who gave me CDs of uplifting music.

Those who encouraged aroma therapy with gifts of frankincense oil, lavender soap and peppermint lotion.

The high-school friend, now an ER doctor, who showed up 20-some years after the last time we saw each other and called in a favor to an excellent oncologist.

The family that let me live with them for more than two weeks, and then continued to let me and my entourage stay with them for two days of every three-week cycle — and made me believe it was exactly where I belonged.

Those who offered suggestions for overcoming insomnia.

Those who shared dinners and lunches and afternoon Cokes with me during good weeks.

Those medical professionals who helped heal me, especially those who have known pain and thus acted with a sense of urgency.

Those who remembered me in prayer lines, prayer chains and Bible study groups.

The person who helped me get my trash to the curb.

Those who made me laugh and those who let me cry.

Those who helped get my cats to the vet.

Those who shared with me their own experiences with cancer.

The physical therapists who helped me regain some use of the fingers of my left hand — and gave me hope that I'll regain the rest.

Those who gave my living room a facelift so I could have a pleasant place to visit with friends on good days.

The person who put my new writing desk together and gave my cedar chest a new upholstered top.

Those potential clients who told me they want to work with me as soon as I am able.

Those existing clients who demonstrated patience and compassion.

Those who chauffeured me, during the months I could not drive and to and from my chemo appointments.

The person who sent me a get-well card every week, 29 and done.

No one overcomes cancer alone.


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