You don’t need me to tell you this…look around and you will find them. Women who have battled breast cancer, those surviving heart disease, those grieving for lost loves and lost lives, tragic childhoods, ostomates who came to the surgery after years, in many cases, of agony and illness. All could yell about despair, and perhaps they do, but somehow they find the way out of the maze and go on.

This past week, I visited my dear “twin” friend, one with whom I share many interests. We both love fashion, dressing up, meeting new people. We are both small, have short hair, and talk with anyone and everyone. She had just moved from New Jersey to their dream home in Charleston, South Carolina because her ophthalmologist husband had retired. Sadly, Michael was very sick, and Gail lost him before he had a chance to enjoy the beauty their new life could have brought them. Gail is surviving, her ability to talk with people and let them enter her life, as she enters theirs, gives me confidence that she will find her way in this new land of Southern hospitality. Gail’s smile and positive attitude always light up a room, and I believe it is what is keeping her moving forward through such a challenging time in her life!

We went for a walk one morning and I met another survivor. He left his home and bent down to put a leash on his beautiful and obedient dog, performing this task as I am certain he has done countless times. She stood patiently, seemingly recognizing the effort that went into what for others would undoubtedly be mindless repetition. But I am certain this man was not one for mindless repetition. He appeared to have had a stroke, the residual effects of which had his cervical spine off kilter, his tremulous voice introducing himself. Having been a speech pathologist, I recognized his studied attempt to answer casually. In the few minutes we chatted, I pictured his days filled with speech, physical and occupational therapy. Each hour of the day planned on attaining whatever goal was determined by the therapist, such hard work to get back to what for most is only square one…but for him, a major accomplishment. Another survivor among us.

My mind is filled with questions about how does one put forth the effort to fight back after a stroke, heart attack, debilitating illness, tragic loss, unending sadness? Some, I am sure, fall into depression, while others find a cause celebre and fight against their challenge. I believe the instinct for survival comes from someplace deep inside…is it our heart, our head, our inner strength, our faith, our grit and determination? Or at the end of the day, is it something very elusive that we will never be able to define, but simply access it when we need to have it?

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