How do you measure a life?

Four Hundred and Eighty Seven days have passed since I received a confirmed diagnosis of lupus. Eleven thousand six hundred and eighty-eight hours. Seven hundred and one thousand two hundred and eighty minutes. Forty two million seventy six thousand and eight hundred seconds.

One would think by now that I would have grown accustomed to this lupus thing.

I haven’t.

If this were a Hollywood movie I would reign victorious over this lupus. I would go into full remission and resume my old life, more empathetic, more appreciative... but, I would be guaranteed a happy ending.

Well, I have news for you, folks.

There is no script to life.

We live it day to day, hour to hour, minute to minute, second to second.

And when I think about the time I have already wasted feeling sorry for myself... 


well... 


I feel ashamed.

I have been wasting a lot of time.

That's what made me start counting in the first place. I mean how much time are we guaranteed in life?

There are no guarantees.

Life is short.

Life is fragile.

I best get moving on living this life with lupus...
 and I really need to start doing this with a lot more awareness.

The clock has not frozen...
only me while I struggle with the used to be's, and the I can no longers, and the when will I feel betters.

I have been splurging my time like a millionaire.

Time to start getting frugal with my life and making sure that what I am doing each moment is really meaningful.

There was an Oprah show that asked everyone what do you want on your tombstone?

This was not meant to be morbid.

The exercise is to make you aware of where you are going in your life, and are you really doing what you are called todo.

Funny thing is... 
long before Oprah was doing the Oprah thing... 
I decided at the age of 19 on the shores of the very same water I still live by that I have one great goal to fulfill.

I want my epitaph to read:

She loved and she was loved.

What would yours be?

TODAY: November 2011

During those first years after being diagnosed with lupus, I was seriously worried about my life span being shortened by the disease. 

I had lost four really close friends in the span of two years in the 1990's. All of them died from cancer and died young. And I was walking the journey with my best friend as she was living her last year of life battling ovarian cancer.

 So I was very concerned about getting my life in order and not wasting my time.

I was also seriously worried about the burdens on my husband and son. First of living with me being as sick as I had been, and then worried about what could happen to them if I died before my son reached a maturity in which he could cope.

That epitaph has always kept me focused. 

Every day I fail at it, but I recite it anyway and keep on trying.