Die Another Day

I know it has been awhile. I honestly have not been able to gather the energy to focus my thoughts on... well...anything. My head is heavy. I am slow. I am behind. I don't do much but go to work. I have to save the mask wearing for work, so I don't get to go to church or shopping or anything because it takes too much out of me to wear it everywhere. I have become a homebody, and I feel like I am missing out on life, though conditions aren't letting many of us go live anyway. Not in the way we should be. But I do  realize I left everyone with kind of a cliffhanger with my last blog  https://paisleyglasses.blogspot.com/2021/, so I am here to make amends. I have been called out, and I apologize it has taken me this long to write again. 

First things first. I am doing fine. I am not healthy,  but I am also not dead, or on the brink of death. I will say my family and I are all suffering from some PTSD. When my breath gets short and my chest feels tight I panic-not as much as I did the first month after my episode, but it still comes. I am still not above 70% of my lung capacity, but I am gaining a little bit of strength and my oxygen concentrator helps. It's the first thing I do when I wake up and the first thing I do when I come home from work; turn that puppy on and breathe that oxygen in. I don't love being tied to something like that when I am only 50 years old, although Chad did get me a 50 foot hose so I can go anywhere in the house and still be getting oxygen, and I am truly grateful for it. I huff and puff more than I want to, and it makes me nervous, but I am learning how to somewhat manage my waves of terror. Putting anything over my face makes me shake...literally...and I have to take Xanax before I put anything on on to go into work. My daughters get a look of alarm if they see I am struggling to breathe, and cling to me a little tighter. I cling to them a little tighter as well. And poor Chad, who literally held my life in his hands, and was responsible for bringing me back to it, well....he's a hero. He holds it in well but he watches me closely and I can see the terror come back to haunt him. We get daily reminders-and flashbacks. But daily doses of faith and gratitude as well. 

People have been good to me. I have had friends check on me regularly, co-workers and people in church who have been willing to take over some of my responsibilities when I have to rest, and bosses and supervisors who have been very understanding and accommodating. I hate feeling weak. We all do. I work very hard to make conscious efforts for my health and stay physically strong. This one caught me unawares. When something of this magnitude happens and your life flickers out for a moment, your first impulse isn't to run around telling everyone about it, but you tell the people who you know it will most immediately affect and the people who know something big went on at your house.  I have tried to put as much information out there as I thought was needed, but not run around telling everyone I have already had a death date. Yes, that is what my doctor said...."Do you realize you already have a death date? Hopefully your next one will be a long time from now." It's sobering, and humbling, but also wonderful that I can be able to say I made it through my first one. At any rate, I am understanding that more people were affected by learning of my experience than I thought. Friends. Neighbors. Clergy. Even some of my kiddos at school have heard from their parents or people in their neighborhoods or other adults, and they have been worried without me even knowing. I had a group of kids today that showed me just how distraught they were. It broke my heart and made me feel loved all at the same time. We had a big discussion about health and miracles and caring about people. Not a lot of reading was done, but a lot of learning and character growth was accomplished in that room-not only for those kids, but for me as well. There were a lot of feels in that room. It was an exercise of trust, respect, and care. We bonded. I'm grateful for it. I have always had an open heart, but that made it crack wide open. 

I realize that I frightened people. It was not by my own choosing, but it happened just the same. It scared me more than I can convey. It terrified me. It terrified my family. It showed me that God loves me and that I am strong in spite of all I have gone through. If you found out after the fact and it hurt you that you didn't know, I am sorry. I was literally in survival mode. If it scared you that you almost lost me, I am sorry, but I am here. I plan on staying as long as the Good Lord lets me. 

So, for now, I am taking each new day. Some days feel somewhat normal. Some days I can't get out of bed, or even catch my breath. Some days my heart acts up because my oxygen levels are low, and some days, my lungs are so happy because we have a green air day and I get to be outside for recess. Some days I get more done than others, and some days I'm lucky if all I do is make it through work. Most days I long for fresh ocean air on beautiful warm beaches, where I can soak up the moisture from the sea air and gulp in as much oxygen as my body can handle. But all days I am grateful. For life, for love, for friends. for miracles, for oxygen machines and doctors, and care. All days I am grateful for family, my job, my community, and my faith. All days, I count the miracles. All days I look UP....even when my body is dragging me down. All days I am grateful for ALL the things I CAN do. All days I love. All days I care. All days I want to be the good. All days I am grateful.

And as a post note, but not really, because it has touched all of us so deeply, THANK YOU. Thank you for making me feel worth your time and effort and love and offers. Thank you for calls and cards and food and texts. Thank you for checking on my family as well. Thank you for being the Lord's hands in helping to take care of my family and of me-for showing us the good. For being the Good. YOU HAVE MADE A DIFFERENCE. WE LOVE YOU.