Rebelling and relinguishing

"I think it would be wise if we head toward transplant."  the doctor said.

For years I have been waiting to hear these words.   Relief and resistance comes at the same time.  How sweet to think the struggle to breath could come to an end, how terrifying to think of The End.

"What if I refuse and say not now."  I ask.

"I don't know if you will survive another exacerbation."

My mind begins to reel out of control.  I fight my defense to argue , "You don't  know me.  You don't know how I bounce back."  The audacity of this man to predict my future.  "Do You think you are the first doctor to tell me that this disease will kill me." 

After the surge of panic is over I can see this doctor is not trying to  predict my future, he is not telling me how it's going to be, he's not telling me what to do, he's just stating his opinion based on his knowledge of the facts on paper.  He is kind and compassionate. 

I remind myself to lay down my shield, there is no need for defense, no need to rebel.  I am in control,  I am in power.

There is a part of me that is relieved and ready to relinquish; wanting to lie down and float on this new current wherever it will take me,  knowing there are rapids up ahead.  There is part of me that clings to shore, afraid of the water, fearing that I may drown.
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