How Many People Actually Go On Facebook? Coco’s Journey; Chapter 17

by Larry Puls @larrypulsauthor

The Journey of Cancer; When Love Feels Undeserved

The sun peaked in the blinds covering her bedroom window. Her husband had already left, having slipped out to work before six. Morning had arrived. Coco wiped the slumber from her eyes, realizing that she had no scheduled appointments with anyone today. It was time for her—a time to regroup—a time to reflect. 

Yesterday’s conversation with her doctor about remission was still being replayed in her mind. And nothing could wipe the smile from her face. With her robe on, she walked down to grab her morning coffee. As she sipped the Columbian brew, she gazed out the kitchen window, watching the birds on the feeder as they came and went. At one point, a brilliant gold finch sat alone nibbling on breakfast, watching the world go by. She smiled. The morning reminded her of when she was younger and had just returned from college after final exams. Because in those moments, there was a freedom in knowing that all her tests were behind her—just as her cancer test was behind her now. She was still alive—and the future was out there to be discovered.

Eventually Coco made it to her desk and sat down at the computer. There were hundreds of emails to be looked at, and lest she forget—Facebook too. It had been over two weeks since she had last visited the sight. She couldn’t remember if she had ever gone that long in the last five years without catching up. But something at the end of her treatment kept her away. Maybe fatigue. Maybe the unknown of what was going to happen. But there had been something that kept her disconnected from the world… And now, it was time to reconnect. She was determined to get back into her other lives—of friends—of physical activity—of serving. 

Being a recluse was no longer excusable.

Several hours passed by. Three cups of coffee were consumed in succession while working forty-seven emails. And after all that, she made it to Facebook. And then she found the surprise. There staring back at her was her own picture—tired and ragged as she thought the picture looked. It was posted by her daughter. And there Coco was, with her husband, her daughter, and her doctor standing in the office with their arms around each other. And underneath the photo sat the caption, “To my hero. My mother survived surgery, eighteen days in the chemo suite, at least ten doctor visits, three hundred blood draws, and more that I won’t get into. And yesterday was the verdict. She is in remission. Let me say that again because it felt so good. She is in remission. I just want to say publicly that Mom, you are an inspiration, a gift, an amazing person, and a survivor. Dad and I could not be more proud of you. And we are happy that you are sticking around to be with us—and we know that we are not always easy to be with. I love you Mom. We all love you.”

Maybe the fatigue and weakness built up from the last seven months tipped her over the edge. But there in the privacy at her bedroom desk, the tears came rolling down. A deluge of moisture. A catharsis of emotion. An avalanche of thanksgiving. She was alive. She would live to see tomorrow, at least as far as she knew.

And once the cascade of tears dried up, she read the one hundred and twenty-two comments that had followed posted underneath her daughter’s words. The cascade started up again, stronger than before. It was great to be loved, though she felt so unworthy. But then isn’t that love? Never truly deserved, but given as a true act of kindness.

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Coco's Journey