Just to reassure you, I haven't done any of the following:
b) hit my head and suffered from amnesia
c) given up blogging
d) fallen down a hole somewhere (likely, but luckily untrue this time)
e) become a monk
f) run away to mexico to start a new life
I have merely been busy. But found time to disappear off to a little piece of paradise for a week...
Me swimming in paradise, aka Mauritius.
It was beautiful, hot, relaxing and very much needed. And I feel very lucky and refreshed.
Bit of musing because I need to really; apologies for this being a bit deep on a Monday morning but it's been stuck in my head and I really need to get over it, and, well, my blog is my therapist so hear goes.
I've been thinking a lot about this dream coming to an end recently. Just to reassure, there is absolutely no reason for me to be contemplating this - my lungs are behaving exceptionally well - *touches wood half a dozen times* - and I am happy and healthy and very lucky.
I think it's more that it has been triggered by several other things, one of which is reading the blog of this incredible young woman here. Eva is in the end stages of chronic rejection and desperately needs a re-transplant, fast. Please do pop over to her blog and leave her a message as she loves reading them. Advanced warning, she is very poorly and brutally honest. Every time I log onto it I hope hard that I read the message saying she's got her call.
As well as this, my life seems to have structure and a future right now, and perhaps I am scared of following this path which has implications for not this year and possibly not next year but for some time after that. Maybe even after all this time, planning ahead is frightening as it feels almost like I am tempting fate.
Maybe I just feel too lucky. I have been given so much, do I feel spoilt and demanding in wanting more? Am I afraid that my luck will run out? I don't think afraid is the right word actually, rather that the idea of it running out has been something I've been contemplating a lot more recently.
No one is immortal. I guess the threat of rejection is something every transplant patient considers at some time. For some reason, I've got it into my head that because I've not had any so far *touches wood lots of times again* if/when I do, it'll be a biggie. Any logic to that at all? Nope, none whatsoever. I get cross at myself for thinking about it when a) I'm fine and b) it's all a bit self-indulgent. I think by blogging maybe this little black hole of musing might close up.
Those of you who see me on a day-to-day basis know that there's nothing wrong and I'm not down or depressed. Merely a little thoughtful at present. And it's not really the kind of conversation you strike up with someone: "you know this whole transplant thing? Well I've been thinking about when it all comes to an end..." - way to ruin someone's day! But it is something I think about. Now and then. Don't dwell, but think.
What's the answer? There isn't one. No-one knows when their dream will come to an end, it's not something that is only relevant to me, so the only answer is to keep on loving it and making the most of it whilst it shimmmers.
The C Word
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