Impossible

I have always loved the Olympics.  Always.  I used to dream of participating one day.  When it became clear that I was not going to make the US track team simply by donning  a beanie (sporting the Olympic rings) while I ran around the block (winded), I began to dream about attending the Olympics.

The Winter Olympics were in full swing three weeks ago when I had a bilateral mastectomy.  With all of my vivid Olympic imaginings, I can honestly say that I never pictured watching from a hospital bed.

My favorite commercial during the games featured a series of amputees participating in high level activities – including Paralympic sports.  The tag line was “Start your impossible….”  I felt such kinship with those amputees.  I, too, had lost part of my body in a rather shocking and stark fashion.  I, too, was left with sizable scars.  I, too, refused to feel like a victim.

Now, I am not suggesting that losing your leg or arm is on the same playing field as having a double mastectomy.  But, I am here to tell you that I do, in fact, feel like an amputee of sorts.  An amputee without a sporting category at the Paralympics.  Although I think that I am now perfectly built for that horrifying sled ride – “Skeleton” – where they flop face down on a toboggan and careen down the mountain.  The flopping would now be seamless – and presumably aerodynamic.

I may not be recognizable as an amputee, but I am totally down with the whole idea of “Start your impossible….”  With faith, everything is possible.  EVERYTHING.  So, now my dreams include heroic endeavors that may not put a medal around my neck – but may make a difference in the life of another.  The draw of the Olympics is coming together for a common purpose.  Maybe I have always loved that because that is how I believe life should be?

 

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