Eleven
I have a magical life. Every morning, I don’t get out of bed until I’ve played Wordle (today was game number 703 for me) and Connections and sent it to various people, including a thread with my dad and aunt. That thread sometimes merely consists of each of our results; other times, it’s a pun (Dad), or a dry and witty comment (Aunt Kate); and sometimes, it’s a sweeter catch-up on life. I treasure it all.
Meanwhile, the animals know I’ve stirred and while Ollie the
Dog wants to pretend we’re going back to sleep, Arty the Very Large Cat has
hopped up on my bathroom vanity and stares at me around the doorway until I get
up and turn on his faucet. (Aspen, the Other Large Cat Whom Some Might Say Is More
Round Than Large, is nowhere to be seen, as she is probably sitting on a heater
vent somewhere.)
If Joby’s here, she’ll poke her head in and ask if she
can get me coffee. (The answer is yes. Always yes.) And we probably have more
chatting to do since it’s been about ten hours since we last had a solid debrief.
And by now, I’ve checked my work email so I know my day’s
schedule, so I hop in the shower, and away I go…from here on out, every day is a
little different than the one before.
+ + + + +
Last December was my 10-year Lungaversary and we had planned a big open house party to celebrate. However, I caught a horribly nasty parasite (Cryptosporidium)
that found me in bed for several weeks, at the hospital for IV fluids twice, 17
pounds lighter (don’t worry, it came back, and then some) and pretty darn weak.
So instead, Joby brought me a celebratory donut with a “10” candle and then Charlie
took me to the hospital for fluids. FUN.
Between that and some heartbreak, 2023 started off pretty
shaky. And I’ve spent this year strengthening back up, emotionally, mentally and physically: I wisely got back with
my therapist after taking several years off; together with my lung transplant
doctor, we modified my immunosuppressants so hopefully I’m not as susceptible
to weird parasites like I had last year (although I did get E. Coli in June but that was nuthin' after the Crypto monster); and while I haven’t quite moved as far
along the “getting in shape” road as I need to, I’m certainly stronger than I was
a year ago.
It's been both an amazingly difficult and wonderful year. Mundane and fantastical, all at once. Most importantly, though, I’ve been circling the drain on my authenticity and getting closer and closer to figuring out how to live my Truth the best I can. Much of that is due to therapy – it costs a fortune (out of network, of course) and it doesn’t always feel profound in the moment but I look back over the year and see not just growth but peace and resolution.
But I couldn’t have gotten through this year as intact as I
did without the Joby. I recommend living with your bestie…Joby is kind of stuck
listening to me, she’s like my pre and post therapist, only we get to do it
over coffee and bourbon (I'll let you figure out which is AM and PM).
I also recommend going out and *doing* the things, trying on
the different experiences and see what fits. Unlearn those cultural biases. Experiment. And then say “no, thanks” when it doesn’t and
try something else. Life is too short to live it for other people.
+ + + + +
As always, thank you to everyone who was part of my Pulmonary
Hypertension and Lung Transplant journey – your love and support during that unknown
and scary time meant the world to me and the family.
In 2012, across the United States, 1783 lung transplants
were performed.
On December 16th of that year, one of them was
mine.
Source: https://srtr.transplant.hrsa.gov/annual_reports/2012/pdf/06_lung_13.pdf
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