by Lorelei Cohen

Created on: July 16, 2007   Last Updated: November 01, 2008

Remission! I suddenly felt like superwoman, even steroids had not been able to give me the strength that being "normal" now gave me. The unbearable pain that I had suffered for the previous 6 years was gone, my mind was brilliantly clear and I could think again. I could run again, bend again, I had stamina again and I could play again. Best of all I looked like me again. I was me again and I was terrified.

It is very difficult to let go of life but it is also very difficult to allow one to live again when given a second chance at it. Fear of losing yet a second time all that I had already grieved for, and let go of, held me paralyzed in my current lifestyle. Inside I hoped and prayed that what I was feeling was real, but at the same time I also knew that it would tear my heart in two, if it wasn't. I didn't think that I had the courage to lose my life a second time so I tried to remain where I didn't have to risk that kind of horror from occurring.

But like a child learns to spread its wings, so did I. As days passed by and little pains remained just little pains, I began to trust and to believe that I might really have a second chance. The more I succeeded the more I believed that I could push myself a little harder and it would be okay. I started to take little steps outward and they worked, so I took a few more outward and away from the safety of my current world, and my confidence and trust grew further. There were a few setbacks, but they were only temporary and as they dissipated into the air around me, I craved the challenge of further accomplishments. I craved the pride that came along with my successes, and I desperately needed the trust, and hope that they gave me.

Then like a child taking the deep plunge outward into a waiting world, I crossed my fingers and shoved myself out into the real world, I applied for and began a full time job. For me it would be the ultimate truth, if I was strong enough to lead a normal life then just maybe, I was indeed normal again. If I succeeded at this task, then I knew that I could truly live again. And I did succeed, and I did live again, and it was worth taking that terrifying first step outward.

For six glorious years I was like everyone else in the world and, although it did break my heart when I got sick again, I would not trade one precious moment of those years. The pride in my accomplishments was made more so because of where I had come from, my pleasure in living and succeeding was extra sweet because I alone knew how truly great an accomplishment it was.

One has to take the risk, in order to enjoy that ultimate of all rewards, the joy of truly living.

New medications, alternative treatments and a modified lifestyle, have improved my life dramatically from the first time that I was ill. I still find myself stretching out my arms to see if I can reach a little further out toward "normal", and if that miracle happens one more time, I'll be only too eager to jump right out and live again. This time I won't even worry about the risk. I know the reward is worth it.

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