Getting my ducks in a row...

After two days of testing and appointments at the Cleveland Clinic at the end of May, I arrived home in a bit of a fog. Shocked, but yet, not surprised. I felt better after a hug from my daughter and a night in my own bed.

I was told I don't have long without getting new lungs. I have to finish the testing and get listed. Soon.

June was a blur. I overdid things, especially in the later part of the month. And, I paid for it... ill and swollen, and it has been taking several days to recover.

Remember those two bags I talked about? I'm still packing. Most days I feel like I am trying to beat the clock and doing so with limitations due to my medical condition. I'm getting my ducks in a row, making end-of-life decisions, going through personal possessions, and working on scrapbooks. I won't get everything done. But then, that is what the other bag is for. Everything else gets packed in there. Sentences around here are frequently started with "When I get my new lungs" and "When I can breathe again."

Not all ducks are orderly. There are a few that weave in and out, and another that always stops to look at something and falls behind. I'll probably never get comfortable with this uncertainty but I must accept it. I may not know where I am going, and my ducks are in a, er... sort of a row, but I must paddle onward.