Even though there are still some details to be worked out, some tests to be taken, things to do, people to see...in other words, even though nothing is yet written in ink, this feels like a good day for me to write about what's going on with the lungs I have, and the hope that I have of replacing one of them, soon.
Since my week-long evaluation at Duke in January, where I was deemed a "reasonable candidate" for a single lung transplant, I have been moving steadily towards being officially placed on the list. At first it was difficult to accept that reality. Part of me had been hoping that there would be some reason I couldn't be accepted, releasing me from the responsibility of making what felt like an impossible decision. I had read enough--including patients' success stories--to be convinced that life after transplant was not necessarily a life I wanted. It certainly wouldn't be the life I have now, the one that I love so much.
When I heard the news that I was in the running, I felt no sense of elation. The only peace I got was when I imagined myself saying "No thank you. I have decided to stick with the lungs I have." I thought that was a sign that I should just accept whatever time I have left, and make the best of it. I wouldn't change much. I'd try to be nicer, get the taxes done, clean the house. Other than that, I'm pretty happy with the way things are.
Now I see that I was wrong. I've learned a lot in the last couple of months. I have been going to Duke five days a week for Pulmonary Rehab. That's exercise. I have always loved exercising, even though I have slacked off drastically over the last several years. Exercise has always made me feel strong--that I have some control over my life. At rehab, I now accomplish in a day what I had been doing in a week. I am starting to feel invincible again--almost.
The program at Duke includes education about all things transplant-related. No matter how horrifying something may seem (i.e., feeding tubes, diabetes and tremors), if you hear it explained clearly and calmly as if it's just another one of those things people have to deal with, it starts to feel normal. Knowing that everyone in the room with you has the same fears and is facing the same difficulties helps you to know that you can do this. Knowing that your are in the hands of the very best is priceless.
I remember reading somewhere that it's not the chances we take that we regret, but rather, the ones we don't take. I realize that if I don't take this chance, I won't be here to regret anything. Guided imagery has helped me to realize how important a part the mind plays in what happens to the body. And remembering that everything is in God's hands, that he will direct the outcome, gives me great comfort.
As I write this, I feel good, at peace. I feel like I have prepared for this journey. I realize it is not a journey that I could ever make by myself, but I am blessed with so much love and support in my life, I know I will never run out. I have already received more acts of kindness than I can properly express thanks for.
I just wanted to give you an idea of where I am. I am ready for whatever is coming my way.
