Page 70 of Tameron

A woman in her forties with short, spiky hair and tattoos up and down her arms spoke first. “I’m Maria. I had a double mastectomy six months ago after being diagnosed with breast cancer. Cancer-free now, but still adjusting to my new body.”

Dr. Chen nodded encouragingly. “Thank you for sharing, Maria. Who’s next?”

A guy about my age raised his hand. “I’m Josh. I have retinitis pigmentosa. Basically, I’m slowly going blind. Started noticing issues about a year ago.”

One by one, they shared their stories. An amputee who’d lost his leg due to sepsis. A woman with MS. A guy with Parkinson’s. Each story was different, but they all shared one common thread: their lives had changed dramatically because of something that had changed in their bodies and their health, and they were struggling to adapt. The Parkinson’s guy was new as well, and he shared a little more about himself. The guy was only fifty-five. That had to suck hard.

Finally, it was my turn. “I’m Tameron. I’m going deaf. Progressive hearing loss from an explosion during my military service.”

“Would you like to share more about your experience?” Dr. Chen asked.

“Not really.” The words came out sharper than I’d intended.

To my surprise, several people chuckled. “That’s exactly what I said my first time,” Maria said with a laugh. “My wife basically forced me to go, claiming that talking helped, and I was determined to prove her wrong. Well, as much as I hate to admit it, she was right. It has helped.”

I shot her a skeptical look. “How?”

“Because for the first time since my diagnosis, I was around people who got it. Who understood what it was like to have your body betray you, to have to relearn how to live.”

Josh nodded emphatically. “Exactly. My friends and family try to understand, but they can’t. Not really. They don’t know what it’s like to wake up every morning wondering if today will be the day you lose another piece of your vision.”

Fuck, I could relate to that. Every morning, I woke up wondering if my hearing would be worse, if the vertigo would be more intense. If this was what I had to look forward to for the rest of my life.

The woman with MS, whose name I’d already forgotten, spoke up. “I used to be a dancer. Ballet was my life. When I got diagnosed, I thought my world had ended. But coming here, talking to people who understood, it helped me realize my life wasn’t over. It was just different.”

I couldn’t help but scoff. “And what, now you’re all sunshine and rainbows about it?”

She shook her head. “No. I still have bad days. Days when I’m angry and bitter and want to scream at the unfairness of it all. But I also have good days. Days when I’m grateful for what I still have, for the people in my life who support me.”

Dr. Chen smiled at her. “Thank you for sharing that. It’s important to acknowledge both the struggles and the triumphs. Which brings us to today’s topic: gratitude. Research has shown how important gratitude is to our well-being. Gratitude is strongly associated with positive emotions, increased happiness, and overall life satisfaction, but surprisingly, there are also physical benefits, such as better sleep and fewer illnesses. And last but not least, gratitude has been shown to enhance stress resilience by promoting more adaptive coping strategies. And resilience is something we all could benefit from, right? So let’s talk about gratitude. What are some things you’re grateful for in your life?”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, my mouth suddenly dry. Gratitude? What the hell was I supposed to be grateful for? My life had gone to shit. I couldn’t hear, I couldn’t work, I couldn’t even go for a fucking run without feeling like I was going to pass out. What was there to be grateful for in that?

Maria raised her hand. “I’m grateful for my wife. She’s been my rock through all of this. And for my kids, who have been so understanding and supportive.”

Josh nodded. “I’m grateful for my guide dog, Luna. I’ve only had her for a month and we’re still training, but she’s given me a new sense of independence and freedom.”

The Parkinson’s guy, whose name was apparently Tom, cleared his throat. “I’m grateful for my neurologist. She’s been amazing at helping me navigate this new reality.”

It all sounded a little too Hallmark-happy for me, but they truly seemed to mean it. How did they have the ability to be grateful when so much was going wrong?

And then it hit me. Nash. Dayton. Creek. Bean. My family. Heath and Jarek. Day. They had been there for me, even when I was at my worst. Even when I pushed them away, lashed out, shut down. They never gave up on me. They kept showing up, kept supporting me, kept loving me.

Fuck. Maybe there was something to this gratitude thing after all.

Dr. Chen turned to me. “Tameron? What about you? What are you grateful for?”

I took a deep breath, feeling everyone’s eyes on me. “I’m grateful for my friends,” I said, my voice rough. “My roommates understand what it’s like to come back from war with pieces missing, and they are there for me, even when I’m an asshole about it. And for… I’ve recently made a new friend, and he’s been super supportive, even when…” I chuckled. “That asshole thing again.”

The words felt foreign on my tongue but also strangely right. Like a truth I hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. Because acknowledging it meant admitting that maybe things weren’t as hopeless as they seemed. That even amid all this shit, there were still things, people, worth being grateful for.

Dr. Chen smiled at me, her eyes warm. “Thank you for sharing that, Tameron. It takes a lot of courage to open up like that.”

I shrugged, feeling self-conscious. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.”

The group chuckled, and I felt a strange sense of camaraderie.

“Can I add something to that?” Tom asked. When Dr. Chen nodded encouragingly, he said, “I was a total dick the first few weeks after my diagnosis. I was…am a lawyer and about to make partner, but I was also an ultra-runner and training to do my first Ironman. It felt like the diagnosis took my future away from me, and I was so angry that I took it out on everyone around me. But then, one day, my wife sat me down and told me she understood why I was angry, that I had every right to be, but that I needed to find a way to channel that anger into something productive. Because if I didn’t, it was going to eat me alive. And she was right. That’s when I started coming to these sessions, which have made a world of difference.”

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