I had no choice but to drag my lazy, uncooperative body out of bed and attach myself to my aerosols a-sap. If not, I would just lie there straining myself, trying every method possible not to cough my guts up on to the blankets.
I'm sure you've been there. That tickle in your throat. Every movement having the potential to unleash the hacking. You hold your breath...and then realize you can't. You think that every breath you take will be the one that hurls your body to the floor in a raging coughing fit, the sounds of which would rival that of the heaviest rock band that's ever blasted it's way into your ear canal.
You try and think happy thoughts, distracting thoughts (Disney World, Tall Hazelnut Blondes, my red kicks?), but they always drift back to the monsters in your lungs.
Let me paint a clearer picture. A morning without my aerosols would amount to the mucous building a small country inside my body and me falling flat on my face in some ditch somewhere, waiting to be found by a humanitarian...or the paparazzi.
While the aerosols certainly do afford me the luxury of camouflaging myself amongst you crazy people (I meant to type normal people...weird), this is what happens to me first thing in the morning with my initial cough of the day:
To all my breathless, mucous-ridden friends...Keep Breathing. <----- ***Click here****
We hit the Eaton Centre again yesterday as Brad was invited to play in a golf tournament and didn't have golf shoes with him. That went well - absolutely no golf shoes to be found. Finally, we discovered a Golf Town on King Street. I sat in the sun, looking pretty in my dress, waiting while Brad walked the few blocks there and back.
What's that? You want to here more about the dress??
The reporters went nuts. Cameras flashing. People running amok in the streets. Vehicles crashing in to the street meat vendors. Sausages flying everywhere. Raining Coca-Cola. I think the O2 was the icing on the cake. I mean, tell me that ain't sexy.
We finally made it home; just in time to grab the G-man and get him out before we left for:
A bunch of us crusty-lung post-transplant wannabees, along with our fantastico support people, got together at Pamela & Carman's last night for me to kick some...I mean, to play some games. But of course, beforehand, I couldn't help but annihilate Brad in Bananagrams again.
He must be so embarrassed.
We had a gathering of the oxygen (not sure whose was the loudest...Carman you may have won that one buddy ;)) and all 10 of us sat around a table playing Uno Spin & Bananagrams.
We aren't exactly sure why TSN didn't show up to film. We must have gotten bumped for a wheelchair race or something...although you'd think I'd have been informed of that.
I decided to let other people have the lime light last night. Through my generosity of spirit, I didn't win 1 single game. I held back.
Next time guys I will not be so altruistic.
Some memories of the Transplant Games:
|Our arrival - not sure where the red carpet is??|
|Pamela's photo shoot|
|Our physio muscles...if you look close enough it seems as though I am making a muscle with one arm and attempting to punch myself in the face with the other hand.|
Today Brad went to the golf tournament with John, one of our park friends. To get to physio, I stuck my thumb out and was picked up by Pamela, who was dragging Carman there. As Alec, Carman's brother, was the support guy today instead of Pamela (she had a day off), we contemplated sipping StarBucks the entire hour and a half instead of squatting it up. However, in the end we were ultimately too afraid of Pamela and her hidden cameras.
Since Brad wasn't there today I decided to wear earphones and jam to some music while doing my thing on the treadmill - if you're not aware how boring a treadmill is then let me advise you that it's about as fun as cutting a dog's nails.
There I was flouncing around on the treadmill when a freaking sappy song came on. What you may not know is that lately my eyes have ran as often as a leaky tap. I'm just so damn emotional. So, what does the sappy song do to me?
Makes me sappy.
Makes me start thinking about "the situation" I'm in.
Makes me take a look around; soak it all in. Realize the importance of what I was doing in that exact moment.
We are all there preparing for transplant. Prepping our bodies for the biggest event of our lives. The Olympics of life perhaps?
We are just so lucky to have this 2nd chance. This is just so cool. How amazing is this?? How unbelievable is it that we get to live because of the compassion of someone who decided to give the gift of life?
This tear is a happy & grateful one