My mom swears I was born with a lucky star.
You see, I was born feet first and that’s supposed to be some kind of lucky omen. I’ve never truly believed that, but I can’t deny that my life is made up of a number of convoluted, remarkable, surprising and fantastic sequence of events.
The first time I ever felt truly lucky was when I nearly won the lottery in 2015. I had been dreaming of numbers for weeks one winter. The same 6 digits kept repeating over and over again. It felt too much like a coincidence so I began to write them down. Every time I doubted a number, I would see it again, on the back of a bus or on a story and feel vindicated.
The problem was, I needed 7 numbers. I put my energy out there hoping another number would come to me but nothing. In the end, I ended up playing my 6 and guessed on the last one.
I CAME SO CLOSE TO WINNING
The day after the lottery draw, I checked my numbers. 6 numbers were spot on, except one, the one I had guessed. I was shocked and disappointed but also surprised that I came so close to winning. My prize, $20. 🙂
I call it karma. Others call it positive energy. Whatever it is, it’s been a source of serendipitous events throughout my life. Too weird to be a coincidence and too strange to speak out loud, on the chance people think I’m a nutcase.
There have been many other such lucky moments throughout my life but the most recent one left me reeling. It was a warning.
This past year, my family received devastating news. Before I tell you what that is, there is a back story.
From time to time I visit an astrologer. Before you judge me, I take everything with a grain of salt but I do believe there’s more to life than just this – birth and death. I believe the energy we put out, we receive in return, both positive and negative. And that same energy endures even after we are gone.
So I visit my astrologer lady and she mentions that she sees someone in my life struggling with their health. She says it’s bad and that it is likely a parent, or someone older who is close to me. She recommended I chat with my parents and advise them to get a check-up from their doctor.
That night, I drove to my mom’s place and told her to visit her doctor, my dad too, and get a check-up. That was the end of it and I moved on.
This past fall, after a routine checkup, my dad received shocking news. There were cancer cells in a polyp that was removed from his colon. While we have a history of cancer in my family, we were not expecting this.
My sister and I mobilized to do whatever was necessary to get my dad through the healthcare system and treated. We both remarked on how lucky it was that we were both working in the healthcare sector and had access to the best specialists in the world and could lean on the experts for advice.
My dad quit smoking cold turkey, after more than 50 years, and began to prepare mentally for what was to come.
I can’t fully express the fear we felt.
As I have gotten older, I’ve seen my mom and dad get more fragile and I do worry about the future. We all do with those we love the most
It was decided that a part of my dad’s colon, the area where that polyp was found, would be removed. This was the first step, until we learned more about the nature of his condition. The morning of his surgery, my sister and I joined dad at the hospital, at 6 am, hoping for the best and trying to reassure him that it would all be ok.
While he was in the OR, my sister and I had a real talk about what would happen if the end result was advanced cancer. It was inconceivable, no, we told ourselves that our dad had much more to do on this earth.
THE WAIT WAS THE WORST
Dad was in pain but his surgery was a success. We were relieved. There would be tests to get a proper a diagnosis and that would take some time. As my dad recovered, my family remained strong and positive. Mind over matter, dad would be ok.
At the same time, dad reconnected with his sister after a family misunderstanding. She had finally returned his phone call after dreaming of their mother, who had died of cancer. She had called, she said, because she knew their mom had come to her for a reason. She was in tears when she heard dad was at the hospital and promised she would come to visit him soon. She did.
Recovery was tough. Dad is 70 years old. He is out of shape and had been smoking since he was 15 years old. But he soldiered through it and returned home to recover.
Two weeks later, we received the results of my dad’s tests. Everything was clear. He would be ok.
Dad is the luckiest man ever. Maybe I get it from him.