Lungs of Awesome

I have accomplished a lot today.

1) I woke up and got dressed and flew out the door at superhuman amazing speed
2) I got Timmies
3) I sped to Kitchener
4) I did my PFTs
5) I got my port flushed
6) I got more Vivaglobin ordered
7) I fed someone's cats

And here I sit.

I initially thought my PFTs were botched and that I ruined them, seeing as I broke the cardinal rule of consuming a huge drink before hand. I guzzled my XL tea because there's no way I can drive to Kitchener in that kind've traffic without tea in my system and not feel the urge to murder people for driving and/or acting like assholes. But alas, it didn't ruin anything. However, I did make up for it by taking the 4 flights of stairs instead of the elevator so maybe that also helped.

So what were my PFTs you ask? Well, grab your gochies, and your extremeties, and push any and all Old people of out the way: 87%!!!!!!!!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 6% higher than last month! WOO HOO! I'm sooooooo thrilled, and it makes it even better because I met with my respirologist last week who told me I was too healthy to be there and to get the hell out of her office and that she didn't want to see my face for another 6 months. So this just makes it better! It actually blows my mind because it's taken me a good 5 months to get my PFTs up since having that small bout of pneumonia. It wasn't even bad but it took 10% off my PFTs and only now am I getting it back. I know I'll get back up to 90 + % but Jesus, I can't imagine what couldn've happened if the pneumonia was any worse!

Blood work on the other hand has been screwy: Cyclo levels too high, so my Cyclo pills have dropped from 175mg 2x a day to 100mg 2x a day, Imurran has dropped from 75mg once a day to 50mg once a day because my RBC are low (79...120 is normal). Yeah, i'm extremely anemic, but when you figure this:

1) I have gastroparesis, and can't digest fats

and

2) Iron pills constipate me beyond all comprehension

it equals

3) Being kind've fucked

And honestly, you can only take laxatives and colonic so much before your body says "Fuck you" and it stops working. I take 4 laxatives a day and that helps, but if i go an introduce iron pills into my diet it messes everything up. I see my immunologist next month so we'll see what concoction he comes up with to fix me. If not, oh well.

What else? I officially have half my trip saved up for! Weeeeeeeeee!!! I still have to book flights and the like but it's under way!!! 5 months now holy-ness! :)

And for now, I think that's it.

RAH RAH AH AH AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So Sunday night saw me, Katey, Krystal hauling ass on a 4:10 Greyhound to TO to meet up with Elwood so we could venture over to the ACC to see the one and only, fabulous, LADY GAGA!

As seen from above, (as telling as 5 pictures can be) we had a blast! If you love Lady Gaga and ever get the chance to go see her: GO! She is even better live than on her record. She sings all her songs live and has an amazing voice and is just full of so much energy and everything! Katey and i bought t-shirts too, woo hoo! The concert ended at 11pm and saw us cavorting down Yonge street passed Union Station, taxi cab after taxi cab, hoards of people and the like, and finally to a cab driver who had no idea where the bus station was. *rolls eyes*

Clearly, we made it home. And i'd do it all again. There were lots of stairs at the ACC and i did all of them and was never once out of breath. WOO HOO! People were dressed outrageously and it was fabulous, and my friend asked me what i wore. I told him i dressed like a muppet.

What else? Sunday morning also saw me waking up with horrible pain in my lower left lung. And coughing up brown/slightly bloody goo. But it only lasted sporadically throughout the morning and stopped. But there was this horrible taste that accompanied it: rotten cauliflower. Ugh. So gross. Monday I woke up fine, but had that horrible taste whenever i breathed out, so i bit the bullet and called my doc and got in for today at 4:30. Today i woke up and coughed and there was nothing, but then some more brown spots showed up, same as the gross rotten cauliflower taste, and pain in the same spot. I dunno what it could be. I'll prob be put on antibiotics, that's for almost certain, but i don't feel sick, and i'm not out of breath, and i don't have a fever or anything so...

It has been really hot this last week - and humid, and i'm wondering if maybe that made things occur? because in all my x-rays there has been a small spot of mucus in the bottom of my left lung, which is where this is coming from...so...did the humidity stir it up? Who knows? I feel wonderful either way, have been walking, hiking, biking, not out of breath so...

AAAAAAAAAAAND as always, the stupid anemia *scowl* which can cause you to bleed in bizarre places so who knows? I'm a mess. I'm falling apart. Must be sewn up to be kept together.

A Simple Kinda Life

I've been thinking.

As I usually do.

And once again I've come to this conclusion: i want a simple kinda life.

I need to stop comparing myself to those around me, because by doing so, I am just left feeling like a total loser who's going nowhere in life.

While I have friends my age who are going ahead, doing jobs they went to school for, or are on their way there, I need to just stop comparing my (so far) lack of success, to theirs.

So what if i have a friend who's a designer, my sister's a teacher, my friends who are teachers as well, or who generally, have better jobs than me - or jobs at all. It will all come in time.

Do i want to go to school for my masters? No. Not really. I'm kind've over the school dealio to be honest. I'm not academically inclined in the least.

So maybe, just maybe, I will follow through and eventually open my own little tea shop, get a dog and live in a modest little stone house.

A simple kinda life. I like it.

Who cares if i don't own a raging successful business, or become a CEO or something massive like i feel compelled to do. I need to do what makes me happy. And if saving up to firstly, go on my Euro Trip with Evlyn, and secondly, save up for a dog, and thirdly, work anywhere to save up for my own little shop, why the hell not. I just have a vision of myself living alone ( i want to get married but doubt there's anyone out there for me for some reason. Who knows tho?), with my Newfoundland dog, together, in a little stone house, with a massive garden all around in the country, being the cool aunt to my sisters kids when she has them.

Maybe i'm just retarded. Who knows.

Anywho.

Yesterday was spent all day with Jenna. Yes, Jenna who fled to the Wilderness. She was only back here for a day before going up to Ottawa and then Niagara to see her bfs fam jam for a week, but it was great to see her nonetheless. We spent from 9am - 1:30am together, having breakfast, mall walking, lunch, downtown touring, Bollywood Bistro-ing, and then Bowling with everyone to cap off the night. It was grand.

Tomorrow, me, Katey, Krystal, and Elwood are seeing Lady Gaga in concert! AHH! This revelation elicited a loud "FUCK YOU BREE!" from DJ at the bowling alley last night, because he wants to see her "so bad", so bad to the point that he'd ask his grandma for $500 to get tickets from a scalper. Who knows? Will we see him there in all his glory?

So that's all for today. I like dreaming, and hope to make this a reality. I'm off to read then take the girls to the park. I'm also talking to my friend who just told me a schizophrenic is roaming his street up and down, so I told him to call the humane society just to be safe.

Au revoir.

A Letter to my Scars

I looked in the mirror tonight
And saw you were almost gone
Distant
Faded
Memories of a not so distant past
Yet the gap that bridged and made my future

Inspection
Healed skin so soft to the touch
Yet a touch I cannot feel
Disconnected and healed nerves
Of a scar that snakes around me
Keeping me whole
Keeping me closed
Healed
Healthy
Breathing

Chest tube scars
2 on the left
3 on the right
Memories of tortorous pain
Just memories now
Of an experience that shaped and made me
Do not escape me
Do not disappear
Stay as dark and scary as you need to
But do not leave me
As you remind me every second
Every minute
Of what I have been through

I carry you day in and day out
With pride
beneath my clothes
My little secret
My pride
I have the privalege of seeing other people's curiosity at will
Hidden
Yet so loved

My scar
I love you

Thoughts

I feel lost
Unsure of where to go
Need to crawl out of this hole that i've found myself in
Nothing satisfies me
Need to do something
Need to find a passion
Compassion?
Inspiration
Have no passion or motivation
And i hate feeling this way
I feel lost
Stopped
Stuck
Unsure of where to go

I feel like I live in a circle. I find myself in this mood/frame of mind often since my transplant - well, ever since I have nothing to do. I need to create something, but i can't find the motivation. I know a lot of why i feel this way is med induced, which sucks. I want to know if anyone else feels this way post -tx or if it's just me who's fucked in the head about where to go in life.

Maybe for the time being this is where i'm supposed to be? but that doesn't make it any easier, less frustrating. I do the same thing day in and day out: wake up, get ready for the day, check emails, visit Finn, come home, clean....It's boring.

I've thought of writing a book, been encouraged by countless ppl to publish my blog, and I really want to, but I don't know how to go about it. Can I even do it? Am I brave enough?

I hate thinking. It must be stopped.

I ran over a squirrel today. I was on my way to Timmie's when it ran infront of the car and went 'thump, crunch'. I felt so horrible that i stopped in the middle of the road and got out and sat next to the poor creature to make sure it wasn't suffering, b/c if it was, i was gonna pick it up and take it to a vet. Seriously. i felt horrible.

Don't get me wrong, I don't mind having all this free time on my hands, I wish i had something to be motivated/passionate about. And I do, i just don't know how to execute it other than through blogging. I hate feeling this way.

This probably makes no sense. And i'm sorry.

Signing out with no pants on,

Moi

Quel Horreur

Megs died.

She died yesterday morning at 11:30am. She had RSV and it damaged her lungs, and she had a buildup of CO2 which hurt her other organs. She had been on the vent for over 2 weeks.

I'm at a complete loss for words. I don't even know what to say. I havent even cried because i don't think i can. I'm in shock and i'm incredibly angry. Megs was one of my best friends and we told each other everything. We got our transplants a month apart and we recovered together like she said she would. I will miss text msging back and forth, talking about asshole boys, and i will treasure the night when i was a few weeks post tx where we chatted on webcam for hours and compared our tx scars and battle wounds. Oh how we laughed. We laughed until we cried. We laughed until it hurt. We laughed because we could.

I miss Megs already.

Onto other things...

I gardened with my mum yesterday and it was fab. Last year i couldn't garden b/c i couldn't bend over and breathe...I'd get out of breath from all the digging, but this year i wasn't out of breath in the least. The only thing i wish i did was stretch before hand, b/c holy fuck people, my crotch feels like it's been pulled in 4 different directions. Who knew squatting was so dangerous!

As a result I woke up feeling sore today. Back hurt, legs unfunctioning. To add to this, was the scary fact that i had a raging headache, was dizzy and had a temp! Luckily, my temp has gone down, headache as fucked off, and i'm no longer dizzy.

Lastnight on a whim i decided to colour my hair bright red. So far, i'm likin' it!

Sorry this isn't more interesting. I just don't know what to write.

You never know...

They say when you reach transplant you trade one disease for another, one set of complications for another, one life for another, and that things can change in an instant.

Lately, this couldn't prove to be more true.

For myself, for my friends, for everything.

Got my bronch results back earlier this week. Mild rejection. Wasn't what i wanted to hear at all, but i know it could be worse. My co-ordinator didn't seem overly concerned, even referring to it as 'a very small amount' of rejection, and that my prednisone was in fact going down. I am now on 7.5mg and 5mg alternately. From my understanding, mild rejection (also known as Grade A) is just some inflammation that goes away on its own. I don't have a temp, and my PFTs are stable in the 90's. So i guess I'm good. But still, it sucks, and it's scary.

Jason, my TGH friend, passed away a year ago today. Rejection again. He had just turned 23.

And now there's my dear Meggs, my fellow sister in Bronchiectasis, who's fighting in an ICU with either RSV or rejection. She's on a vent, and is unstable, and things don't look good.

And I am gutted.

It just shows how quickly your status post tx can change really. And it's scary

There's so much you have to do to monitor yourself post tx. Check your temp everyday, check your PFTs everyday. If there's 10% decrease in function over a course of 2 days it could mean rejection, infection, or that you're going straight to hell, and you must ring up your coordinator immediately and get sorted out. Because if you don't, you might just die.

Really.

That's scary. And i'm scared that I won't know how to identify these things if they happen to me. I'm afraid if it ever happens that it will happen gradually like when i first got sick, and that i won't even notice it.

Nothing is certain in this post-tx realm. The highs are high, and the lows are low.

And I am scared.

There is so much that I am afraid of. I want to live big, but I don't know how. I don't know how to branch out and do it since i lived in a cage for so long and had to back out and bow down. I know it takes time...and hopefully in time, I can be crazy again without being afraid. Afraid of what? I dunno...Maybe i'm just childish.

Maybe i don't know myself...

But I do....I just need to step up, say fuck it all, and be proactive.

But it takes time.

And I am scared.

(and my dog died a week ago:()

In the cemetary/Confessions

2 years ago today I was listed.

1 year ago today we got rid of the Red Rocket.

And today, I am alive, no longer on the list, nothing.

In celebration I took the Spawn for a walk in the cemetary. I know that sounds morbid but it's just so peaceful, there no children there for her to lunge at, and it's just...beautiful.

We parked near Karyn and took off from there. It gave me time to think and reflect on the last 2 years. Being listed wasn't necessarily a bad thing as it was the only ticket i had out of my old life. Without it, i'd probably be dead by now. I'd still be struggling for every little thing. But now? Now i can breathe easy and nothing stops me.

I thought about my donor and got teary eyed as usual.

And then i tackled the revelation that i can't have kids.

I've thought about it a lot, but whether i've actually thought indepth enough for me to get upset about it, i don't know. To be honest, i'm pretty ok with it. I've never wanted kids really, and that could explain my general lack of affection for all things children. They scream, they cry, they smell, they shit themselves and projectile vomit all over things. They destroy stuff. They take away 'me' time. And i'm too selfish to have that snatched away from me. But this doesn't mean i all-out hate children, i don't, i like a few of them, just not all.

If we're being honest, i always saw myself as the 'cool aunt' in life, the chick who has a lot of money and is always travelling. BUT. I've thought of adopting too. It's a huge responsibility.

So yeah. Part of me doesn't care, part of me is deeply upset, and part of me is relieved.

Maybe the conculsion is this: I am a horrible, selfish person.

That doesn't suprise me.

Um. I can't think of what else to post. Sorry if this is boring.

Be careful what you wish for

My how things change.

Just a few days ago i was saving up to go on my massive trip with Eve, and complaining about (within myself) how i hated my shift and how i sometimes longed for my pre-tx life when i had all the time in the world, when out from under me i lost my job.

Yup.

Shock and awe.

It's not that I suck as a worker, because apparently i'm a great worker and I follow direction well, and whenever I'm told to correct something I do it and make a great effort, it's just that i'm not bubbly enough. As my employment termination papers say, there was a 'lack of organizational fit', which basically means, my personality sucks.

Wooooooooooooooooooooo. Go me. Shitty personality represent.

Yup. I don't know if i should be embarassed, ashamed, shocked, upset, or what. It is funny though, that the entire time I was employed at the TAC i always had this nagging feeling that something about the place was off. Well, when it's your second day there and someone takes you aside and tells you to watch your back because management will do everything for their members and nothing for their employees, that says a lot. When everyone around you is quitting, bitching about how management sucks, and is generally unhappy, you begin to wonder. And I won't lie, i did wonder about what all these people were talking about and was still actively scoping out other jobs while employed. But I was also aware that no job is perfect and there will always be something to bitch about, someone who's soul you hate, someone who hates your soul, someone who thinks you most likely suffer from some form of mental retardation and thus looks down on you and makes it incredibly obvious to one and all, i stuck it out.

So while all around me I was surrounded my miserable pusses, I generally enjoyed the job and found that i liked more people than i hated (and you know me, i fucking hate people). And i found that it was reciprocated. So when I was pulled aside on Tues two hours into my shift and informed that things 'just weren't working out', because, you know, i have a shitty personality and i'm not bubbly enough, is it so wrong that i didn't squeeze out a tear, feel my soul plummet into the floor, see my future burning in flames in the depth of hell and so forth? I don't think so. I think it's telling. I mean, if i was secretly looking for another job, i see it as a blessing in disguise.

And this is what i've determined: I'd rather work for a humble establishment with people who enjoy their jobs and genuinely want to help others, than work for a superficial place where everyone's in it for themselves and wants to make a dollar. When you're surrounded by people who are so blatently miserable it rubs off on you. I'll do 2 part time jobs if i have to, but I am determined to find another job and most importantly, find something i like, and somewhere i fit in. I didn't really fit in at the TAC; i wasn't popular and in the incrowd like most people were. I was the newbie who asked a lot of questions complete with shitty personality. Don't forget that last aspect: my personality sucks.

Whatever.

But despite having the magic carpet ripped out from under my ass, I'm happy. The weather is great, i feel fabulous, i'm applying to jobs and being proactive about it, and my spiritual center remains balanced which makes me happy:)

And i think that's it!

Hear, hear - and things i want in my oldness

Welp, it has been a week since I have posted. What i posted about, I can't exactly remember...oh yeah, blood. Well, we're not gonna talk about that because new blood has not been taken since said blood requisition has failed to show up on my doorstep. Therefore, blood shall remain in my system until further notification by mail.

Enough said. Decision made. Stubbornness in tact.

That, and I'm supposed to give a stool sample which is quite the feat seeing as the iron pills have done their job and sufficiently backed me up. I've taken 8 laxatives over the course of 2 days and no dice.

Enough said. Decision made. Stubborness in tact. There will be no pooing in a tiny cup.

Um...

So yeah.

I got my hearing tested the other day. Little known fact that I don't tell people, but that I'm learning is relatively common amongst sickies is that there are many of us out there (not just moi, who felt she was solo (as always) in this realm of side-illnesses) that have lost hearing due to meds (namely long-term IV antibiotic use such as the dreaded tobramycin). This is called otoxic loss. Personally, I have 'sloping severe' sensoneurial hearing loss, meaning that i hear some things within normal range (mainly with my right ear which is better), but then some things i don't hear at all and it slopes down into the 'severe loss' range, meaning that i need a lot of amplification in order to hear things normally. Sensoneurial hearing loss is caused by damage to the hair follicles that lay on your ear drum. It is irriversible. As a result of this, I wear hearing aids (not always, because i'm stubborn and superficial). I've had them for about 10 years now.

In Ontario, as long as you are under 25, the gov't will cover $800 per aid and the rest is covered by insurance. Seeing as I turn 25 in August, my dad suggested to me the other day that i made an appt to get my hearing tested and get new hearing aids before its to late. It's been yearrrrrsssssssssss since i've gotten my hearing tested or new hearing aids so i agreed and made an appt.

It was this past Thurs.

No change. Hearing is still the same and i'm still quite deaf, lol. I mean, i can hear without hearing aids but i don't realize how little i do until i wear my hearing aids like a diligent little child. I am getting new ones though! Going with Unitron again and this time i'm getting the shells (the part that goes behind the ear) in transclucent purple. I figured why not have fun with it? Beige is for old people, and I'm not old yet.

But speaking of oldness, I was having a conversation with my friend Matt about things we want when we're older. Here's a list we compiled:
1) pants will from thereonin be called 'slacks'

2) we already have an leg up on the aging process: he wears glasses ( i call him blind), and i am deaf. I have already had some parts replaced. He will one day need several parts replaced.

3) Rocking chairs. My rocking chair will be electric, and will have the capacity to roll because it will also have wheels. It will be a wheeling rocking chair and all other old people will be jealous. My rocking chair will also vibrate causing copious amounts of fat to jiggle.

4) Stair master. I will have one. What will make it better is if said stair master was attached to a wall of mirrors so i could watch myself glide on my ass on the way up. I will proceed to take my cats on rides with me up the stairs, even if i have no legit reason to be using it at the time. They will like it.

And that's the list so far. I think it's pretty fab.

What else? Yesterday I cut 8 inches off my hair and coloured it back to blonde. I am happy with it. I have a pic but i look terrible in it, so i must arrange a photoshoot with myself in the near future and post a before and after.

That's it. Back to my stupid paper i go.

Out of the rut! Confessions

I've had thoughts of wanting to die since about January.

Not all the time, but on and off. And i beleive these thoughts came along with the ex and his negative attitude as well as having too much time on my hands, that all I did was focus on the fact that it was winter, that i hated the weather, didn't have a job, or money, and there was no end in sight to any and all things depressing.

I found that once i was occupied, I didn't have these thoughts and things were perfectly fine. As long as I had something to occupy my time with, I was completely fine.

The last week has been nothing but positive.

Then last night, a thought about wanting to die crept up on me.

Why? I don't know. Probably because we're getting a raging snow storm, and I was dwelling on stupid shit like what I"m doing to do for a living once I'm older (but what 24 year old doesn't worry about that?). And then, ut of the blue, I got a sign.

Mum and I were driving home, in the middle of a blazing, blowing snowstorm. We pulled onto our steet and in the middle of our driveway, amidst the blowing snow and snowdrifts, was a bunny.

Just sitting there calmly.

Staring at us.

A sign. From Karyn. That all will be ok, and that I needn't have these thoughts all because I don't know what I want to do with my life. It's ok to be worried and scared, but it is not ok to dwell on them to the point that I want an escape through death. Not that i want to die now, because i don't, but i was thinking maybe in 10 years so I wouldn't have to pay bills, lol.

Stupid eh?

The last time I saw a bunny was the 16th, the day of my bronch. It ran in front of the car on the way to Toronto.

You know you've got true friends when the pact you made the summer you were 17 holds true. Karyn and I sat in my basement, and she said to me that if anything ever happend to one of us (meaning, one of us died) that we would come back and let the other one know.

She has held onto her end of the promise countless times.

I found myself semi-depressed today on account of the snowstorm and not having anything to do. Since my sister moved out of the house in August, her room's been vacant and got a brand new double bed. The idea of me moving into her room has been tossed around countless times, and today, I jumped at the chance and moved all my shit into my sisters room.

And i feel wonderful.

And I don't want to die.

I know that I'm not depressed, but I know that when I have too much free time that ill-thoughts creep up on me. I know I am not the only one to experience such thoughts and feelings, and if there's anything I hate more than mental oppression, it's when this stuff happens and no one speaks up about it. Yes, transplant is wonderful, but there are mental downsides that I feel people sweep under the rug.

I won't sweep this under the rug. If any tx friends are reading this and have had similar thoughts, i want you to know that they are shared and you are not alone. Please leave a comment or post in the guestbook. I'd love feedback!

So anywho, moving rooms changed my attitude. So much shit went down in my old room - illness, dying, death, breakups - just too much negativity that it was good to get out and have a fresh start. Admittedly, I was slightly afraid that i would miss it (silly, eh?) but you gotta grow up and move on at some point. Mainly, my fear was that i'd miss my bed too much because it's soooooo damn comfy. But my awesome pillows will come with me so that's good! The room itself is on the dark side (butterscotch), and my sisters room is a light yellow. It's bright, and happy and cheery and positive, which is what i need. I made the right choice and am sitting on my new bed, in my new room, writing this entry and feeling completely happy:)

AND!

Another thing to be thrilled about!

Got a call from my co-ordinator today and my latest bronch results yielded NO REJECTION. As a result, my pred dose is going down as follows:

For the next month(till March 26th) it will be 12.5mg daily.

From March 26-April 26th it will go to 10mg.

From April 26th to my 9 month assessment, it will alternate daily from 10mg to 7.5mg.

So voila.

I have nothing to want to die over in retrospect.

I have no rejection. My lung function is 98%. I have a job. I'm back in school. I'm having the time of my life.

I am alive.

It's amazing the power of the mind. It's amazing how someone else's shit can bring you so low that after all I've been through that the thought of having a future made me miserable.

NEVER AGAIN.

I AM ALIVE.

I am out of my rut. Finally.

New beginnings.

Revelations of a Break-Up

I decided today that I would wake up each day and greet it like a puppy. If you've never observed a puppy or a dog in the morning, I guess I need to elaborate. The first thing a dog does when you (and they) wake up is greet you with an enthusiasm that's equivalent to a cannon ball being thrust at you. Their sheer excitement and lust for the day can sometimes be astounding, and their excitement for all things life should probably be contageous all the time.

As I sat in the dining room at 7:30 am, I observed the Spawn, eternally running in circles of joy for the day that's ahead of her, for the sight of mum and dad when they wake up (or she wakes them up on her own terms), for her stomach, or for the first pee of the day, and I thought to myself, "she knows something....i could take a cue from her."

Day in and day out, regardless of the weather, regardless of if she got bitten in the face by Madyson, or grabbed from the cat who so bitchingly was hiding in her lair beneath the couch, the Spawn (she does have a name, it's Brooke) greets every single day with enthusiasm and joy. An enthusiasm and joy for something that she probably doesn't understand. And i realized, that i should do the same. Because there's no reason not to.

Yesterday I broke up with my boyfriend. I won't go into details, but i will say that a constant negative attitude on their end was the final nail in the coffin. I beleive that I allowed that attitude to rub off on me and caused me myself to be miserable some days for unwarranted reasons. And in good-friend fashion, it took a close friend to mention my attitude change to me for me to realize (tho i hadn't been feeling the relationship in a while, for other reasons too), that something had to change.

"Bree," she more or less said, "do you want me to be honest?"
"Yes," I said. "Be as honest as possible."
"You havent been yourself. You've been miserable and bummed out for no reason lately. You just had a transplant; you should be elated and ectatic every minute of every day! You got your life back! You shouldn't be down for no reason."

And that's when the lightbulb went off.

So i spent a few long days thinking about it, and while it hurt me to do, it had to be done, and I felt relief. I woke up today with a weight off my shoulders and a renewed zest for life. It's a Saturday, and I woke up at 7:15am and decided to work on my paper that isn't due until Wednesday at midnight, and I feel happy.

I feel happy.

I am happy.

I choose to greet today, tomorrow, and the next day, like a puppy...like our mentally retarded Spawn who runs in circles of joy. I choose to smile at the tiny spot of sunshine that creeps in through the window, and I choose to extract its warmth and relish it the way my Heidi Speidi does, in snatches of sleepy moments when she has no idea that I am watching. I choose to be spontaneous and silly at inappropriate moments like my Pig and Madyson, and I choose to find elation in the slow moments that allow me to just chill out and be zen like our old dog Casey.

And at the end of the day, I choose to live with joy. Joy for myself, for my donor, and for those who can't experience life to its fullest quite just yet.

And I won't let anyone bring me down.

So for all of you who are out there reading this, who have pets...take a cue from them, and allow yourself to be silly and happy, because sometimes, you don't need a concrete reason to be. Sometimes.....just be.

This is not the end for you

it can't be.

I've spent hours pouring over Eva's blog, and I refuse to beleive that this is the end for her.

It can't be.

She's too colourful. Too vibrant. Too beautiful to leave this world.

It simply can't be true.

It breaks my heart more than you could know, and I don't even know Eva - just 'know' her through her LJ and from what I've seen on Facebook.

Can your heart be broken by someone you don't even know? Yes. I beleive you can be touched by people at large, from far and wide, by their situation alone. And my brain just can't wrap itself around the notion that she could leave this planet at any moment. I pray and wish for a miracle to come her way, to sweep her up and and encompass her, and to restore her life to what it was and all the potentials that it has to be.

This can't be true.

Can one accept this fate for themselves? I guess so...because in August, the week I got my call/transplant, I knew full-well that I was dying and I finalized a lot of stuff. The week of August 7th I caught up on emails, phone calls, texts, blogs, baking, let everyone know how much I loved them, and poof, the call came.

Will the same happen for Eva? I hope and pray it does. She cannot leave - she has impacted too many people. She is too special, I feel. Too many people love her, and hopefully that love is enough to tether her to the planet until another pair of lungs come along. But at the same time, maybe that is entirely selfish of me...from someone who has never met her because she is on the other side of the country from me.

Hmm..

So to Eva, from someone who has never met you, but from someone who has been deeply impacted by your story, by your fight, by your joy and zest for life, please don't go. You're a wonderful, beautiful, exceptional creature and there is much more for you to acheive and accomplish and to live for. That is my prayer and wish for you. Many people love you - whether they know you personally or not - you have managed to touch the world at large through your words and your story spoken through your fingertips on your LJ.

Please don't go.

This is not the end for you.

Love love love.

Confessions: To Live to Die

Do we live to die?

In short, yes. Which is why i'm finding this whole, "i'm-completely-healthy-for-once-in-my-life" dealio extremely daunting and scary, because to be honest, I don't know how to live without the fact that i am/was dying behind me.

Is that insane?

Am I insane?

It's a weird balance....and I had an epiphany today and i abolished this scary thought and made it scramble all away so i could reach a place of happiness within my brain.

Of course, this happened in the shower.

All good thoughts occur in the shower.

So there I was, freaking out over the appt I had with a career councellor at the uni, over the thought of more schooling, and more this, and more that, and it was all daunting and not something that I am ready to do no do i have the energy...and I thought, with my health, I have enough stress in my life, but it's the kind of stress I am used to and that I know how to deal with. But schooling and a high powered career is not something that I think i have the mental energy to put forth...so it was then, as i stood in the shower, that my epiphany came to me, and i came to the realization that things will be so much easier if i opened my own tea shop.

So that's what i'm gonna do. I don't really care about making lots of money (obviously I want money), but it's not the be-all and end-all to my happiness. I want a relatively stress-free job, that allows me to balanace both my health and my career, and working as a youth councellor - while i would love to do that - seems like it would be a lot of work and at the moment, I am not prepared to take that on.

Which raises the question: why the eff am i putting so much pressure on myself? I don't really know...I really really don't. It's when my brain reaches this kind scariness that i think dying would've been easier in a way...because life is scary, but dying is such a cop-out in a way....but at the same time, it's all I know how to do.....live to die, right? I guess it takes time...there is no rush...I am young and have all the time in the world, and I need to chill out and just take things one day at a time.

Blah.

Um...

I have my 6 months bronch on Tuesday...that will go well and things will go fine....My blood work from Monday came back completely normal which is good...weight is still the same. Amy is recovering well...she's still in ICU but she spent 3 hours in a chair, had the majority of her chest tubes removed, and will look into beginning to walk soon! So that's fab!

Basically, in all of this, I need a hobby, yes?

Yes.

Before i end this bizarre and random blog, please go to the side bar and go to Eva's blog. Send your prayers and love. Thatt's all I will say. She needs them.

Peacing out for now. Chilling out for later!

And yes, I am wearing my CANADA Olympic sweater and will watch the opening ceremonies with the bf tonight.

In this moment, nothing else matters

"how does it feel/ to be/different from me/are we the same/how does it feel?"
~ How Does it Feel
- Avril Lavigne

Tonight
I laid in bed
And nothing else mattered
Because I am alive
I opened the drawer beside my bed and pulled out my stethoscope
And listened
To all that i've been given
Safely enclosed inside my chest
Behind a tiny wire
Behind a long, clamshell line
Surrounding my heart
Two beautiful creatures
Kindly entrusted to me
In my care
Forever
Life
Given and received
Taken with thanks
Celebrated in all aspects

So i listened
Inflate
Deflate
Inflate
Pause
Not a sound
Not a crackle, or wrinkle
Not a wheeze or a pop
Nothing sloshing or gushing
Silence
Beautiful silence

Where once i could not blow out a candle
I can now run down the street
Where i once could not laugh in the slightest
I laugh long and hard
Even though no sound comes out
Through the casing of my stethoscope
Can i hear my life
Can i see it rise and fall beneath my eyes
Fragile, yet strong
Clear
From the bottom to the top and all around
Sounding like parchment paper, so thin, yet two little warriors
Keeping me going
Keeping me breathing
All thanks to the kindness of another whom I do not know
And never will

It is strange to me that these wonders were not born with me
We were not made together
But manufactured apart
Yet somehow, someway
Our lives became one
And you saved me
And will continue to do so

So tonight
When the world may seem scary
And material things uncertain
I listen through my stethoscope
And remind myself
In this moment
Nothing else matters

I ruin a Christmas photo...

Everyone was smiling nicely and I threw up a gang sign.

And so were the events of last nights Christmas party. To be frank, I was not in the festivist mood, nor really was anyone else. Seems like ever since the weather's changed, it shit on us all and sprinkled us not with merth and cheer, but grumpiness and an overslew of bad moods. I myself have fallen victim to such mysterious workings and it sucks royally. I just can't seem to get out of my depressed state this week.

They tell you all this stuff to watch out for post-tx, but no one tells you how hard it is to occupy yourself post-tx. Now that i'm not overrun with appts day-to-day, and it's too early for me to work and the school semester has ended, all i have time to do is think.

And think I do.

About everything.

I overthink and overanalyze and then i get bummed out (that and other issues are contributing to my overall mood of 'blahness') and i don't feel like myself. Usually I'm so happy-go-lucky and I miss that old Bree, i want her to come back. Please come back to me, self, I do not like being bummed out. I have no reason to be: I GOT MY FRIGGING TRANSPLANT I SHOULD BE ECTATIC! And I am, trust me, but you can't escape your thoughts no matter what you do...Keeping the brain occupied is the hardest thing. The weather being erroniously and gonad-snatchingly cold does not help either. Getting dark at 4pm does not help either. No one wants to be shut in a world of darkness as we are when winter befalls us all...I just want summer back. But you know what, fuck it. Fuck it and everything in it, b/c when spring time comes around I will appreciate it more than ever.

I just want this feeling to leave me - nothing's worse than losing yourself.

I went to the gym yesterday and that helped with my funk. I walked on the treadmill for a solid hour - completing the whole programme and felt pretty fab about myself.

So i think that's it. I will try not to feel so alone anymore, b/c when I think of it, i'll never be alone: i have my donor in me and my donor to thank for still being here.

To quote Cassie: "cheer the fuck up"

Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!!!!!!!!!!

I lost my pager.

FUCK.

I didn't notice until after supper, when i went to look for it. No where to be found. Not in my room, in the bathroom, in the kitchen, on the couch, on the counter, in the bathroom, im my purse, or in the car.

No where.

FUCK.

All of us looked high and low. My parents - being parents - made me feel bad about it, and irresponsible b/c i attach it to my purse strap. My mum quizzed me about where i last remember seeing it. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to rip someone's head off. My dad paged it to see if it was somewhere hidden in the house. It wasn't.

So off to the grocery store my angry dad and I went (it was the last place i had been with my mum when we had gone out earlier). We went to the spot we parked (yay handicapped spot!) and looked around in -22*C weather. It wasn't there, but Zehrs was still open so we popped inside and went to customer service.

No one was working. Of course. It was 8:20 and they closed at 8:00.

And then i saw it.
By itself. On the lotto table alone, like a shining peice of black dirty gold. My frazzled pager, who has been dropped, stepped on, smashed, and now lost, a little warrior of time, an old faithful, alive and well in Zehrs.

I was so relieved. I snuck behind the counter and got it, told the lady working cash that it was mine and that i had lost it, and we went home, hand in hand, pager and I, along with a very angry Dad.

I feel better that i've found it, but my dad is still pretty angry that I lost it and had no idea.

And I'm pretty sure he wants to commit infantide now.

Confessions Part II

1) I hate you lungs.

2) I am no longer afraid of dying.

3) I am afraid to get on with my life. Does that make any sense? It's such a contradictory, eh? For so long, lung disease has allowed me to stay in the background, to move forward in life at a slow pace, but still be dependent on other people. Once i'm better, it means i'll actually have to leave the nest, I will have to find a real job, provide for myself (at some point) and the like. The thought is absolutely frightening and terrifying.

Now I know that i'm not the only one afraid of this, I'm pretty sure everyone my age is afraid of this thing, even older people who are settled probably fear this. I don't think it's a thing that can ever leave an individual, even if you have a lot of money, have a house, and don't need to worry about how you'll get on. I'm sure Oprah even worries that she'll end up on the street living in a box behind KFC.

As bizarre as it sounds, lung disease has cushioned me for so long that it's all i know. I really cannot comprehend a life without it. I look at normal people and wonder how they do things day to day, not stopping to think about their breathing, not stopping or slowing down to pace themselves. Just doing fuckall into the wind and getting on with it. Lung disease has sheltered me, has kept me from being a total asshole, from doing rediculously stupid things and the like. In an odd way, I am utterly afraid and sad to leave it, to be without it, my safe, phlegmy cushion.

I look at the things normal people do, and wonder how they've done it, and how they stay that way. And when I throw myself into the mix, I am utterly terrified.

How will I manage??

I know I will, and that I can, that's not a huge concern, it's the getting there and staying there. I wonder how many good things can people have happen to them? Getting a lung tx, being able to breathe, getting my LIFE back, AND having a job that makes enough money and allows me to live normal.

Is there too much of a good thing?? I'm afraid that if I get all that, something will be taken away, again, and I won't know how to cope again. What will I have done to deserve such greatness?

Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe I've been subjected to too much madness from the get-go that I automatically expect something good to be taken away from me because somehow I'll fuck it all up.

I hate thinking.