Thanks, Phyl.
I haven't had the time to devote to a full reading/viewing of Kelley Tuthill's diary, but I'm certain it's interesting. I'll take the time to peruse both the video and written sections in a few days. This weekend I'm 'booked' and won't be near a computer. I wouldn't have the time to use it, anyway.
I agree with the woman's characterization of 'mourning' the loss of good health. It must be especially difficult when you're relatively young and are diagnosed with a possibly fatal disease, as Ms. Tuthill was. Many of us were middle-aged or older (like me) when diagnosed with a benign brain tumor and although we might have been otherwise healthy, it was a bit of a shock to find we had a serious medical problem that had to be addressed. However, as one who had been able to avoid the usual physical maladies middle-age often brings, finding out that I had an acoustic neuroma tumor was a surprise, to say the least. However, as an optimist, I also was thankful that I made it to age 63 without any serious or life-altering medical problem and that what I had was benign and treatable. It wasn't very likely that I was going to die. When I compare my situation to that of a young woman being diagnosed with cancer, having a little child and a career in high gear, now on the back burner, I feel 'lucky'. I retired the year before my diagnosis, my son is grown, my marriage is stable and my health remains excellent, apart from the acoustic neuroma, for which I've been successfully treated.
Of course I wish I'd never had the thing (who of us doesn't?) and I resent some of the annoying after-effects of the surgery and radiation but, as I see it, I'm one of the 'luckier' AN patients. Luckier than a young mother with breast cancer and even luckier than some AN patients who post on this forum. So, yes, I do 'mourn' the loss of my former good health. I would love to be able to magically turn the clock back a few years and never have an acoustic neuroma. However, I can't, no more than Kelley Tuthill can in her breast cancer situation. That unpleasant reality long since confronted, I spend little time in 'mourning' and a lot in being thankful for what I have in the way of health and looking forward to getting even better, in time. In short, I accept my 'condition', deal with it and stay positive, refusing to allow it to define who I am. I would bet that Kelly Tuthill does something similar. I hope so.