You don't have to stubbornly 'do your best'—let's 'shine our faces' (ganbare) with bright, sunny smiles✨

Tomorrow, December 21, 2024, is the winter solstice...
I'll take a yuzu bath again this year
and spend it in a relaxed way✨✨

(💌~💌 is a letter to the doctor)

It was a hospital I visited for a long time for post-operative checkups. Since I have more things I want to do now, I decided
to have them transfer me back to my original hospital near my home without waiting for 10 years.

I feel a bit lonely. Once I receive the transfer documents, I won't be getting off at this station I've grown so used to visiting anymore.
At the very least, for the last time, I wanted to show my gratitude, so I attached a letter to a handmade suncatcher.

There isn't a window in the examination room where the suncatcher can catch the sunlight,
but I asked them to hang it somewhere where both the doctor and the patients can see it.

💌Thank you for performing the surgery.
2weeks earlier than expected, thank you for letting me be discharged.
I was surprised when a thread came out of my stomach, but thank you for stitching it up so beautifully.
In the two years since then, I have lived, dragging myself along, for my children. The fact that I look no different from everyone else is something to be grateful for, but it was also painful.💌

---Resting felt like nothing but a sin. While I couldn't regain my physical or mental strength no matter how much time passed, I lived, dragging myself along, for my children.

---Truly, taking a bath, going to parent-teacher meetings, and meeting anyone were all forms of rehabilitation.

💌In the midst of that, the doctor's encouragement was also very painful.💌

---'Keep moving! You can do anything, exercise or work!✨'
I put tape on my aching wounds, wore an abdominal binder, and did my best.
The marks from the tape caused a rash, and it was a battle against itching and pain.
No one knew that my wounds were painful and itchy.
I always wanted to have a bright, sunny face and a smile, so I wanted to 'shine my face' (ganbare).

---By the time three years had passed, I was finally able to make a dinner I was satisfied with. It was the night of the winter solstice.
When I thought about it, I had only failed to do things properly twice—New Year's, birthdays (x3), summer vacation, Halloween, Christmas, and the winter solstice. I had only failed to do them twice each.
Yet, I felt as if I had spent nearly 10 years in dark, painful times.
I felt like I could do anything now. But, it didn't quite go that way.

---Five years after the surgery, I crawled and searched for the healthy me. I can still do it! I can 'shine my face'!
Seven years later, I didn't notice that I was slowly breaking down.
By the end of the eighth year, I finally realized it.

💌The reason I decided to write this thank-you letter to the doctor is because I want you to continue encouraging women who have had surgery. However, please also tell them to rest properly.
For people like me who cannot rest, please tell them that it is okay to rest, it is okay to slack off, and of course, it is okay to do housework and exercise—there is nothing you are forbidden from doing.
For women in this world to live brightly and energetically, we need doctors like you.

Doctor, please take care of yourself and stay well.

Have a Wonderful Xmas & Happy New Year💌

I will live
I am living
I have been saved by a miracle twice, as they say
But that was, so to speak, a plea for life born of lamentation

I will live
Things only I can do
Things I can do because it is me
Things that can only be done if it is me

Is it finally happening at this age?
Ten years is a lifetime.
Another 20 years...
I wonder if that will be enough.

So, my goal is to live to be 120!✨