It's Wed. morning, almost noon. Nicole is off on her volunteer work day at the seniors residence up the street. I called J of The Dr. early this morning and spoke with her. We talked about The Dr. for a few minutes. I asked her if they were friends and she told me they were. She held him in high regard both as a man and a physician. I told her I understood why my file had not made it off the desk and why she had not called me back over the last few weeks. She very clearly feels horrid about that. She has contacted two pneumologists she knows well to take on my file. I thanked her for that. She says that we will get it done, we will get it to Notre Dame. She promises. I asked about getting my chart and explained that I wanted to also work on it on my own with The Dr. Too and she thought that was a good idea. I will pick it up Monday next. She seemed very confident that we will get to Notre Dame. I believe her. I told her I love her for all of her kindness over the years and especially because she is stepping up for me right now, in this moment of her profound grief and sadness.
With Nicole out I am all alone. I woke up in rather rough shape. Bad cough, lots of sputum, burning chest, weakness all around. Rough ragged breathing with wheezing. Not great. Few hours later now and its a lot better. I have done nothing much, really. I probably will not.
How do I feel about where I am at in life? I feel grateful I am not in pain, that my burden is not heavier than I can manage. Numb. I feel rather numb to it all actually. I have become somewhat comfortable with death. Death scares me less than a stroke that leaves me mentally incompetent does, or another episode like that of my second heart attack. The thought of the pain that Nicole will suffer when I die is infinitely more troublesome to my peace of mind than that of my eventual demise. Gone is any anxiousness due to worry about what is going to happen to me. Will I, won't I, cancer, yes, no, maybe, what? That does not mean I don't care. I care a lot. I will not though, stress about what I cannot control. Right now I have done all that I can for today, and probably for the better part of a week. So, no stressing about a future that does not belong to me. Today belongs to me, and I have done all I can do today to influence and affect my fate, so we shall not ruin now over tomorrow. It's like watching a movie that you do not know the end to. You don't know what comes next. Patience and assurance that I did all I could do, today is enough for peace of mind now.
I do not cry more than a stifled tear once in a long while. I wipe my love's tears far more often. I am not consciously fighting back the tears. It only makes sense though, that somewhere along the line I would have broken down, did the woe is me thing. I just don't feel it. The waste of it all makes me very sad sometimes if I dwell on it, but that's not the same is it?
Being housebound is a bore. Thanks to G+ I can see out at least.
I wonder if when I am able to get some kind of car on the road next spring I will still be up to driving. This whole thing has affected me in a lot of unexpected ways. I am a lot older, less aware. I am not sure I trust my reflexes anymore, and maybe not my judgement either. I remember in a past life having difficulty relating to very sick friends. I think I too found it easy to drift into distance and unintended indifference. Writing this has led me to the thought that a lung transplant would restore me, make me whole, free me from the prison that is my body. I want that chance with all of my heart.
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