Sunday, August 16, 2009

Sweet Sixteen (Psst, it's just a number.), Part Three

Sixteen years and twenty-six days.

Well, here we are again. As I begin to write this, I want to say something profound; communicate some great lesson learned about having lived with a chronic illness for sixteen years. Well, to paraphrase the old saying, "That wish and a Metrocard will get me on the NYC Subway."

There's no great lesson here. Nope. Looking around my desk, I can't see any lessons at all. In fact, I can barely see my desk under all these papers.

I am so happy I lived to see the past sixteen years. It is something to celebrate, however, sixteen is just a number. I don't think its as important if my time is measured in years, days or minutes, as it is that I spend my time well, to the best of my ability. I'm here, and I want to be here for as long as I can. That and the pot of coffee I am about to make will suit me fine.

There is more to tell. Coming soon, stories about a niece and nephew; a father lovingly referred to as "Twinkle Eyes", Roller Coasters; a Grandfather, his Grandson and 36 women who pack one swift KICK.

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