I love to read. I especially love Shakespeare, poetry and classical literature. Right now, I’m reading “The Odyssey” again and taking an online college course on it. Living with indolent systemic mastocytosis (SM), I don’t know what my day will entail when I wake up each morning. What I do know is that I can always escape into another reality, even if only for the time spent in a book.
The other day I came across “The Dash,” a poem by Linda Ellis. The words pierced my heart and provoked deep thought. I love it when inspiration comes to me through the written word.
What happens between the dates
“The Dash” is about a gentleman who speaks at a friend’s funeral. In his speech, he says we’re guaranteed two dates: our date of birth and our date of death. What matters most is the dash between those dates. The dash stands for our time on Earth and how we live our lives.
Learn more by Tara Keith: “My rare disease doesn’t define me. It makes me unstoppable”
Are we living life to the fullest? Do we have traits we want to change? Are there priorities we need to reestablish? We don’t know how much time we have left, and it’s important that we find joy and seek beauty. There’s beauty all around us — in nature, friends, family and pets. The list goes on.
While living with a rare disease makes things harder, we also have grit and determination buried deep in our core. We only need to dig to find that inner strength that some people will never understand.
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We are survivors
It’s difficult to fathom, sometimes, how we keep going in light of living with SM. We’re survivors. Even on our worst days, we do what needs to be done and more. I’ll try to explain it this way: On my good days, I can compare myself to someone who has the flu. When a healthy person has the flu, they have the luxury of staying in bed. If I stayed in bed every time I felt horrid, nothing would ever get done! I would have to give up.
I’m not saying that every single day is a win for me. Sometimes, I must force myself to get up and do what the day requires of me. After I’m done, there’s such a feeling of accomplishment. Another day of beating this rare disease is a good day for me.
Each day is an opportunity
Each day brings me the opportunity to love, forgive, smile, and treat others the way I want to be treated. I also try not to think about what others have and I lack. I truly and honestly wish to be happy for other people. I love to celebrate others when I see them succeed. I’m also quick to forgive. That’s one trait I’m extremely proud of.
Also, I try not to envy other people. For most people, the word “envy” brings up images of large houses, expensive cars, luxury clothing, traveling the world and money. For me, I focus on not being envious of people’s health. I miss the healthy person I was. I loved being outside and on an adventure. Things have changed, and so must I. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be happy for others. This life is too short to harbor ill will against anyone.
“The Dash,” written in 1996, still touches people today, evoking deep thoughts about life and how we live it. I’m proof of that. I want my dash to mean something at the end of my life. I want people to say, “She really lived!”
