Numbers and Stories

The story doesn't end here

It's been 128 days since I got diagnosed. I thought of just saying how long it's been in months (4 months and 6 days) or guessing (just over 4 months) but I've decided I've earned every single one of those 128 days. I'm still 128 days later, and sitting there on September 11, 2012, I didn't know if I would be. I couldn't imagine myself 128 days out, or even 18 days out.
Life stopped for a while, for me. It stopped and now that it's slowly beginning to start again I'm left to look around and wonder what happened during those days. If I'm being honest, I'm looking over the past 1513 days (November 25, 2008) and wondering what happened.
Last night I kept asking myself the question, "What are you scared of?" over and over again. I came up with some pretty interesting things, but one of the things that struck me was this, "I'm scared I haven't made any good choices since November 23, 2008. I'm scared I did it all wrong and I ruined everything."
I keep track of days. Days since the diagnosis, days since the coma, days until finals, until the new semester begins, until break, until the weekend, until doctors appointments. I keep track of numbers: my locker combination, numbers that fit seamlessly into physics equations, the number of books I'll be reading for english next semester, the numbers on the clock that tell me how much time i have left before i have to get up or make an effort at doing some school or walk to class or babysit.
128 days. 1513 days. and I've earned every single one of them.
I never imagined it making it here, to 128 days - and 1513 days - out. If you'd ask me in September if i ever would have made it here I wouldn't know. I couldn't imagine myself here, couldn't imagine making it this far. If you would have told me after I woke up from the coma that I would be here now, that I would have fought like crazy to get diagnosed and then that that diagnosis would have almost broke me, I wouldn't have believed you.
The days fall together in a blur, and I wonder about everything I did during those 1513 days.
But the story doesn't end here. The story doesn't end at 1513 days or 128 days.
Everything is lying blank before me, and just because one chapter is closing doesn't mean the story is finished. The story doesn't end here. There will be new choices - better ones, hopefully - and new chances at love and relationships. There will be good days, and bad days, days that I walk through with ease and days that I fight through every single moment. And each day I will have earned another number, another day that I'm still here, still living, still writing the story that is my life. Because my story doesn't end here, and neither do the days of being a survivor.
It's been 1513 days, and 128 days, and I'm still here. I'm still fighting, and I have earned every single one of those days. And the story doesn't end here. Because there are still so many days waiting to be filled with heartbreaking things and wonderful things that I can't even imagine yet.
The story doesn't end here. With each day that passes I am walking farther away from the battlefield I lived in for so long, and walking towards the sunrise, with the promise of a new adventure lurking on the horizon.