‘as long as someone takes me home…every now and then…’

i always thought i was fairly out of shape. i used unhealthy methods to lose weight, obsessed over losing weight.

then i realized how much of my life i was wasting trying to be thin. i am not even extremely overweight just never happy with how i looked. then one day i had enough. i got rid of my skinny clothes, started wearing things that were comfortable for the size i am. i still wanted to keep up with my yoga and eating healthy but because it made me feel better.

i was always afraid to actually let myself be truly happy. i had this weird logic going on that if i enjoyed my life after trying to end it, the universe would punish me and take it away. take my daughter away somehow. i was sure i would be punished for taking my life for granted.

then i realized one day that despite some very minor things, i was living a great life. amazing daughter, perfect husband, very nice house full of nice things, freedom to go do things, a great group of friends and wonderful family. i had it all and i was going to enjoy every minute.

but i didn’t

i kept spending time on the couch watching tv at night and on the computer during the day. i was letting life pass me by.

then in August i gave myself a mild concussion. nothing serious just annoying enough that i had to rest and be real careful.

then a couple weeks later i found myself struggling to breathe and having horrible pounding chest pain.

i was in the ER 3 times and mostly told i had pneumonia and sent off with antibiotics. some scary terms were thrown around and in a very short time i found my self using a small amount of oxygen during activity, then getting a lung biopsy and waking up unable to do anything with oxygen let alone without. i guess things got pretty scary. eventually i was accepted at a great hospital but waited in misery about a week to get here. i’ve seen so many doctors i can’t keep it straight. they are often vague but the one thing i do know is that they are trying to get me on the list for a transplant.

this terrifies me.

but it is good. it means they think i have a chance. that i am likely a good candidate.

it is also my last best chance. lung disease often has a mortality rate of 1-2 years. i could die before my daughter turns 21 let alone gets married and has kids.

i will do whatever i have to to be eligible for a transplant. i will eat healthy, i will do whatever working out i am able/allowed to, i will go to physical therapy, i will stay away from smokers and fumes of any kind, i will quit drinking if they tell me to, hell i’ll stop dying my hair, anything and everything they say to do i will do it.

for now at least…this is my life. constant oxygen. being very careful and moving slowly and resting all the time in between even the simplest tasks. if my oxygen drops too low bad things can happen.

i’m glad we went to Cedar Point last year. i want to find things we can do to make the best of everyday no matter what the outcome is.

i know how depressing and grim this all sounds but it is just reality and it is my reality and i have to find a way to cope. i need more therapy, specialized therapy. i need to accept the fact that i may never dance again.

here i am using up what little oxygen i have of my own crying.

sometime after i am home i will let myself have a good cry. get all this out.

i’m glad i finally started to enjoy my life and with any luck i will be healthy again and can enjoy it even more.

if i could just get home…

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