![]() | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Hope, Part 2By Sarah and Carmen Anthony Sacco May 25, 2011 I (Sarah) don't want to sound trite when I take on this topic -- I think this one little word carries with it so much meaning -- both positive and negative. I shared in my introduction post a time in my life when I felt quite deeply the lack of hope -- probably better termed despair. What I have shared with few others is just how far into despair I was. The week that I was diagnosed with HIV I was driving across the mountains of Colorado in a snowstorm headed to a speaking engagement. I was all alone on a mountain pass. Nobody else was foolish enough to be attempting the switchbacks in the storm. Truth be told -- I was just one wrong turn of the steering wheel -- one nudge of the gas pedal or the brakes at the wrong moment away from plunging down the mountain side. It was sure tempting to just quit looking through my tear-fogged eyes and end it all right there. No more waiting, imagining terrible endings to my life. But I didn't do it. I now believe that God was there with me -- reminding me of some kids that I had committed to helping. I thought of how terrible it would be for them to get the news. And I very carefully, with shaking hands and pounding heart, finished that journey. When I (Carmen Anthony) was first diagnosed with AIDS, lying in a hospital bed with 5 T cells and 6 weeks to live, a lot went through my mind, including what would happen to me after I died. I said I wasn't ready to die yet, and I am sure glad I chose not to. Now I have a beautiful wife and a beautiful daughter. I spent about three weeks in the hospital and six months in an assisted living home eating "gourmet" food and learning how to walk again. All that time, I had my guitar with me, sitting on a music stand. I kept looking at it, wanting to play it, but I just didn't have the strength to do it. It wasn't just my body -- I had so much despair and anger in me it was hard to motivate myself to get healthy again so I could continue living. I went to visit my doctor during this time and he asked me what I wanted to do for the next 20 years. I said to him "music -- I have a lot of songs to write" He told me "get off your A** and do it!" That started the ball rolling. My first song, Dead Man Walking, expresses that period (you can hear it on an earlier post.) Music gave me hope and a will to go on. I've been writing ever since -- songs of healing, love, peace, faith, worship ... songs that express my journey. Thank you, Send Sarah and Carmen Anthony an e-mail. Get e-mail notifications every time Sarah and Carmen Anthony's blog is updated.
Add Your Comment:
(Please note: Your name and comment will be public, and may even show up in
Internet search results. Be careful when providing personal information! Before adding your comment, please read TheBody.com's Comment Policy.) |
BLOG:
What's Normal Anyway? ![]() Sarah and Carmen Anthony Sacco Carmen Anthony, Sarah and Abbi often ponder the meaning of "normal." Anthony's music brought him healing after his diagnosis with AIDS in 2000 when he was given six months to live. Sarah was diagnosed with HIV in 2003 at the age of 23. They met at a support group and embarked on life's adventure together. Then, along came Abbi -- a precious gift free from HIV! Life as a family with AIDS is not what anyone imagined, but it is full of music, blessings, and chaos! Subscribe to Sarah and Carmen Anthony's Blog:
Recent Posts:
November 22, 2011 - Zero: A Blog Entry by Sarah Sacco
October 14, 2011 - Inspiration: A Blog Entry by Sarah Sacco September 1, 2011 - Staying Adherent in the Midst of Early Childhood July 12, 2011 - HIV: Just Another Chronic Disease? A Blog Entry by Sarah Sacco June 27, 2011 - HIV Testing: Does It Contribute to Stigma? A Blog Entry by Sarah Sacco A Brief Disclaimer: The opinions expressed by TheBody.com's bloggers are entirely their own, and do not necessarily reflect the views of TheBody.com itself. |
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||