I realize I have one more post pre surgery. I head to the hospital tomorrow from a place of acceptance. But still with fear. I dread being cut again. For some time I’d planned on posting about my last surgery for the removal of my cancer and kidney. Give you a more in depth accounting. But I’ve been incapable. I can’t bring myself to it. It was TOUGH. I don’t say that lightly. I have a large pain threshold. I can take a lot and I’m one hell of a survivor but it taxed me on every level.

This is why when faced with the proposition of going under the knife again. Of having my abdomen cut open and a large portion of my colon removed I wanted to disappear. This is why I did not hesitate to take TR up on her offer of joining her in Australia. It may have saved my sanity because right now it is the memories from my trip with her that are helping me through.

The memories of the people I met. The places I saw. The things I did that have become part of my being. For me there was a sense of coming home I found in Australia. It was unexpected.

So I have wanted to wait on this procedure, willing to gamble with my safety, with my life. Allow the situation to progress till it is emergent, till I’m septic and in risk of dying before relenting to another surgery, to more pain, hospital time and scars. I’m logical enough to know the frivolity of such a plan but emotional enough to entertain it.

Seriously my friends thought to confiscate my passport hence they find my at the airport on the way to Reykjavik-Northern lights, geothermal spas and dancing into the night. Of course a layover on my way to Paris, then Tel Aviv, Singapore, and finally back to OZ.

I’m still here.

Years ago, I began blogging on a whim. I wasn’t big on social media. I like my privacy and sense of anonymity. But over the years blogging has introduced me to some truly talented people. And I have been graced to build friendships, even if electronically, with a few.  And these relationships have fulfilled me immensely.

After a period in the dumps one such friend Helena took the time to handwrite me a wishing me well card. I can’t remember the last time I got a card in the mail from someone. It made me immensely happy. I honestly felt closer to her for it. Now if only Jessica would send me a little charm to ward off evil spirits while in the hospital I’d be ever grateful.

I had this grand plan to travel all over the world and meet all these incredible people I am conversing with, collaborating with, dancing with. I wanted to write about them, about our meetings. What it is to chase the muse, to find those of a like mind even if your lives are diametrically opposite one another.

In that vein I knew my first meet up would have to be RED. He was the one after all that suggested I take the risk, that I crowd fund my project. He has wholeheartedly encouraged me to do it. He has nicknamed me Valkyrie which you know I love.

His queen had breast cancer. RED knows the trials and tribulations associated with a cancer diagnosis. He supported her through it.And he’s done the same for me over the past year.

So when I took off for OZ and knew I’d be in his land I wanted to talk to him voice to voice. I knew I wouldn’t be able to meet him face to face, not this trip. But I assure you this will come to pass. I will have a brew with him in his shed and a Sunday Family BBQ.

He rung me up at the condo and we talked for quite some time about my assessment and utter love of all things Australia. All about my need to move to OZ and of course my theories of Australian versus American men and women. Hearing his voice, his cadence and his character only increased my sense of connection, our friendship becoming more intimate.

Since I’ve been back he has been supporting me through this week leading to surgery. We’ve talked. This man has an enormous heart not to be mistaken under his rough exterior. He is a love. (Sorry RED, don’t mean to out you. Hope I haven’t ruined your wild west street crit). He has let me reminisce, escape into my fantasies and his Aussie voice. Allowing me to feel less frightened by what lay ahead. To dream of everything I will do on the other side. To dream of my travels, meeting him in person, writing my book and emigrating.

He has shown me the nature of friendship even if afar. It is no longer in the abstract. And that dreaming big is the only way to live.