The Gift of Time

Time is a funny thing. We all have 24 hours in a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year. When things go by quickly we see time fly. When we are on a trip we want to make good time and travel there faster. We feel stressed when we are pressed for time. Most of us don't feel like we have enough time in the day and we try to buy some time by prioritizing our schedule. Yet many of us let time slip away. We suspect things will work out in due time and we can rest in knowing that time will tell all things. Perhaps because of my ponderings one might think I have too much time on my hands.

I have been given the gift of time. Last Tuesday I returned to Duke University for my 8 week check up. In spite of recent hospital stays I am doing well. My pulmonary function tests reports that my decline has stabilized. The doctor is not convinced that doing a transplant at this time would prolong my life any longer then not doing one at this time. In other words he thinks we can get some more mileage out of my current lungs. The whole purpose of transplant is to keep me alive as long as possible. I like that idea. I've got things to do, people to see, children to be raised, a life to be lived. I cherish my time for every moment is a gift to be enjoyed.

Perspective is all we need.

Today I will be going home from the hospital. I've been here since Tuesday. Apparently I caught a bug while waiting in the ER over the weekend for gall bladder surgery. I had been home less then 24 hours when my fever started spiking. So once again, I evoked all there is in me to do what I have to do and return to my home away from home. I am grateful for good doctors, good hospitals and medicines that eventually help you feel better.

With that being said let me also say that I really hate being sick. I hate the feeling of knowing that I cannot stop my body from feeling like it's been hit by a mac truck. I cannot stop the feeling of being left behind while all the world goes on with their lives, right on schedule. I cannot stop the disconnect that happens with my family because I have no emotional or physical energy to offer them. I remind myself when I enter the hospital that this too shall pass.

The first few days go quickly as I lay around and sleep most of the time, exhausted from the effort of breathing, relieved that I have nothing to do but rest. Usually by the third or fourth day I am revived enough to watch TV. I like to watch Discovery health channel. I am reminded that there are many far worse off then I am. Last night I viewed the documentary about autistic savant twins obsessed with Dick Clark. The show really helped me feel good about my situation. Perspective, the capacity to view thing in their true relations or relative importance, is all we need.

Change of Plans

I awoke yesterday eagerly looking forward to communing with Mother Nature in the mountains. The leaves are at their peak and we were going to travel to the Smokies to see their vibrancy up close and personal. I knew our plans were about to change when I woke myself up moaning with pain. I had the worst stomach ache I've ever experienced. No matter what position I laid in I could not get comfortable. By the time the doctor opened his office at 9 I had been in pain for several hours and knew I needed to be seen. The rest of the day was spent consulting with specialists, obtaining blood work, doing tests and traveling to the hospital in Knoxville. A little before midnight last night I bid my final farewell to my gall bladder.

Today I am in recovery mode with my precious narcotics bringing me sweet relief. Perhaps next weekend I'll make it to the mountains.