Quicksand!

The feeling of being mired in slow, tortuous quicksand seems to consume me a little bit more with each day. The reality of what our life could become gripping me like a cold evil wind. I can’t breathe. I can’t sleep. I am afraid.

Michael and I agreed, insisted really, that we had to make the best of these last weeks together….to make strong, good memories  to get us through the separation, the waiting, the medical evaluation and then the surgery. We both knew the importance of being strong and loving and there for each other during this time. We only have each other and soon we won’t have that.

Yet we circle each other silently like zombies each evening, moving silently from computer to TV staring silently, not really watching and then switching back again. We pass each other in our rotation, apologizing for accidentally being in the same path, or brushing against each other “Oh, Sorry!” “No, No, my fault, no problem.” We remain polite and strangely distant, like strangers just meeting awkwardly for the first time instead of like the best friends and passionate lovers we have been for the past 10 years.

It is almost as if we can’t bear the thought of getting too close or of letting down that looming wall of fear….it is a virtual Pandora’s Box of disconcerting thoughts of “worse case scenarios”. We can’t stand to confront those crushing, destructive thoughts and admit that the reality could indeed be the worst outcome ever…or with luck and God’s will, the best we could hope for.

It feels like a cruel game of the ultimate lottery….life or death…and we are reaching out frantically trying to grab a dream…hoping to win the big prize and that our reward will be the gift of life and a future together.

This lung transplant journey is complicated by the cruel complication of having to be apart. Life requires that I stay behind and make a living to pay the bills. But I should be there at this crucial time. I should be by his side. We have been there for each other through every hardship, through every victory, through every experience good and bad for the past 10 years. And now that we are talking life and death, I can’t even be there for him, hold his hand, reassure him. My heart is breaking and I don’t know how to fix it.

If you would like to donate to Michael’s transplant fund, please click here.

 

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