Yesterday was Day 2 of this year’s five days of treatment. I’m not too worse for wear, which is wonderful.
The side effects tend to be cumulative, so I’m not counting my chickens but I am expecting a miracle.
About a month ago, I went to the GP for some compulsory pre-treatment screening. We frankly discussed the success rate of the treatment and how it doesn’t work for everyone. I left the surgery feeling a little discouraged – what if I was putting my family (and my body) through this for no benefit?
I walked back to the car; head down, mood pensive. I wasn’t asking for a sign, but I almost tripped over the one the universe delivered anyway.
There in the middle of the footpath, outside the hippy shop that sells flowing dresses and silver jewellery, was a black board. Written in chalk was ..
Expect a miracle.
Fine tune your thinking and manifest the power that belongs to you.
And so I have. I made myself a lock screen for my phone and a coffee mug as a reminder.
Miracles come covered in black plastic bags – who knew?*
*Probably loads of cancer survivors.