Ironic

For the past several years I've been focused on healthy living and have avoided most processed foods, GMOs, and chemical additives. I was doing it to stay healthy and avoid problems with food related maladies like heart disease and type II diabetes. I am not a smoker. Never was. I avoid chemicals like synthetic bug sprays and cleaners in my home. And now I have something so rare and so random that is destroying my lungs. It was not preventable and there is no cure. How ironic.

I am trying to cope with this irony. This disease took away my future plans, my independence, my fast stride, my strength, my savings. It took away my ability to work and the chance for others to depend on me. It keeps me from things I once found pleasurable. And I am holding on, trying to grasp as much extra time modern medicine can provide. But, I'm only hindering the inevitable.

No matter how much they love me, friends and family continue on with their daily lives. They must. And, some are even picking up where I left off, taking over things that were once my responsibility. I'm trying my best to accept all of this, but it's hard. I'm envious. And it's the deepest, most pronounced envy I have ever felt. I feel ashamed and am a bit sheepish admitting this because I know that wanting what others have - health - will make me no better.

This disease brought a lot of things into my life, most of which I did not want. When I can push aside the heavy drapes of anger, of envy, and worry, I can look at the blessings this disease has brought into my life. For one thing, I've grown closer to my mother-in-law. We haven't always agreed on how things should be done, but when I needed her, she was there by my side. I've also observed compassion and appreciate all the help from friends - everything from rides to appointments to surprise goodies at my doorstep. In addition, I have a wonderful husband who continues to show his deepest devotion by helping me daily. And, there's my new friend who has a similar, rare form of this disease.

My friend lives about twenty minutes away and visited me on Friday. I cannot even begin to explain how much that visit meant to me. She's fighting this battle too. We are the same age. We are mothers with a terminal illness. We can openly talk to each other in that "I've been there myself" sort of way. We have a lot in common, obviously. But we also HAD a lot in common. Had we met before this disease struck, we would have been instant friends.

I still have those days--those dark, gloomy days--but I tell myself I must remain focused and strong. I'm fortunate because I can count my blessings... especially blessings that came into my life because of this awful disease.