I received unfortunate results this week from a routine radiology scan this week. So, the shoe has dropped yet again for more tests and doctor appointments.
This is like a repeat of two years ago when I returned from the 2014 Transplant Games of America. It is as though I entered a time machine and went back to 2014, but this is happening here and now in 2016. I brace myself that surgery number (fill in blank because I lost track) will happen again. The surgeons love me, and particularly my abdominal area that has been cut into countless times to rewire the ‘plumbing’ for kidney beans, transplant kidneys, and remove or question masses. I never want to hear the word “mass” again in my life, and the only acceptable and embraceable ‘mass’ to me now is “Catholic Mass.” I am the surgeons’ human carving board.
The first person I told was my friend for over 20 years.
One of the first questions she asked me was, “How do you feel about all of this?”
“I don’t know,” I confessed.
I expected to be more upset, but, on the day I received this news, I did the unexpected—I drove to an area I was completely unfamiliar with to meet with friends to eat soft serve swirled ice cream encrusted in hardened chocolate that melted into my mouth in a pool of delicious heaven, played on a hybrid piano, and smiled and laughed so hard that my face hurt and could not make any possible room for wet tears.
And, the ONLY image that first formed in my head and filled and flowed throughout the day of this news as all my thoughts and worries swam in there was this: Water.
16 feet of water—just to be exact.
Water so incredibly blue, shimmering, glittering, crisp, clean, delicious, pure, and welcoming for me to jump in. Eyes wide open. Breath held. Free fall. Jumped straight in. An world of crystal clear and clean and frigid and freezing water enveloped and embraced me. Only me. No one else. It felt magical. It was my magic to jump into that 16 feet of water and to feel nothing and everything at the same time. It is magic.
For the first time in my life in over 30 years of receiving bad and unfortunate news about my health, there were no tears, bitterness, anger, or panic. I strangely and welcomingly felt peaceful and unafraid of the unknown. If anything, this latest health hiccup has made me want to live, party, enjoy, and make and find magic more than ever before. Time and time again, everything that had went wrong, everything that had crashed and crumbled around me, everything that felt like it was falling apart ended up all right, unfolded to reveal what I needed to know and understand, and fell into its rightful places. For as many tears that I have cried, shed, and that have rolled down my cheeks, I have smiled and laughed even more, harder, and louder. Especially at the small that seem to mean nothing to others mean everything to me—like jumping into 16 feet of water! :-) I am easily fascinated and excited by the little in life! I love and treasure magical moments that I both create and find when least expected!
Funny that as I’ve aged older in numbers and as my body has undergone even more, the younger and more free I feel and am. Funny that I feel old and young at the same time. I spent so much wasted time worrying throughout my life that if I could just meet with child Mary Wu again, I would look her straight in the eyes, wipe her tears, hug her hard, and exclaim: “Don’t worry! Don’t take life so seriously when there is so much serious in your life and in this world! Everything has a way of working out! Just enjoy, love, live, laugh, and, most of all, let magic envelope you to fascinate and enthrall you!”
Here I am now as an adult. No longer a child. Magic is not only for the chronological age of a child, but is needed and vital even more so as we get older and life gets tougher. Better late than never that I finally do this—party, celebrate, feel, make, and find the magic especially in the most mayhem of moments. There is so much in life that tries to stop us when they need to move us to make magic. Never lose your sense of wonder, fascinating, magic, and awe and especially at the worst rather than only the best.
What would you say to your child you? What have been and are your magical moments? What magic are you making and finding in life at its worst and best? What is magic to you?
I hope you always make and find magic. There is magic everywhere—it is just a matter of creating, seeing, loving, and living in it!
Keep smilin’ until we meet again,