I believe in miracles. Actually, I know for a fact they exist. People may have different names for them, and some may even try to explain them, but miracles as I see them are gifts that cannot be explained. I am not very religious (a traumatic religious upbringing and setting pretty much took care of that) but I am fairly spiritual. I don’t believe in karma (want to!) but I do believe in the unexplainable, good and bad, energy, reflection and whenever someone might refer to God, I refer to the universe. To me, miracles, are gifts from the universe, and I believe in them because the fact that I am alive to write this is one such miracle.
That is the word my doctor used in May 2010. Actually he used miracle and gift interchangeably. Because I was supposed to die, I was all set, and then I was just better. My fight started in July 2009 (on my 25th birthday) and I did die, albeit just for a little while. I can’t say I remember it, just flashes of the emergency room, the spinal tap, thankfully the seizures, strokes and fever of more than 109 degrees took care of anything concrete to hold onto. And then I was in this state of limbo for what felt like weeks, and was actually three or four days. Not a coma, not conscious or lucid, on and off support. This was the easy part. I know that sounds nuts, but looking back on what would happen only a few months later – it really, really was.
