Anniversaries
I forgot to mention last week that since it is summer my posts might be coming later in the day. Hopefully that will be because of days like today where I am out in the sun all day enjoying time with friends and family.
On to other matters.
This week I celebrated three anniversaries.
One year post transplant on Thursday.
Sixteen years post my first transplant today (Sunday).
Twenty three years since first getting sick with what is known as HUS - Hemolytic Uremic Syndrome - celebrated today (Sunday).
It is fun to celebrate these days. To celebrate the extra life I have been given. To think about how I should have died years ago because of all the complications but instead I am live today.
But it can also be bittersweet to celebrate. As I continually remembered this week as I did a year ago - someone else died. Someone else's family was left aching. While we were celebrating life another family was mourning death. That is always in the back of my mind.
And celebrating my first transplant feels a little weird. Because even though I am proud of my dad and that he gave of himself - it feels weird to celebrate something that had to be fixed. Something that is now over shadowed. Something that can no longer be called the one but instead the first one. That can be a little depressing.
As is the inescapable fact that 23 years since first getting sick means 23 years of sickness. 23 years of waking up not knowing what health challenges I will face that day. 23 years of fighting for life. 23 years of deciding that yet again today I will get up and live to the best of my ability. And it's a reminder that in my life these current post transplant days are the "healthiest" life I will know. A life that is still full of medications everyday and doctors' appointments and pain. And that is kind of a sucky reminder.
So I have to remind myself that these days are not about me.
We don't celebrate because I did anything great. I got sick and then took a great nap while being cut open. I really didn't do anything at all.
We celebrate because God did great things. God let me live. God got me through all the sucky bad days. God got me through the first eight hour transplant and then got me through another two hour transplant and all the surgeries before, in between, and after. God found the matches. God found the doctors. God gave them wisdom to put me on the right meds. God whispered to me softly to press on when I wanted to give up.
And so we celebrate - not because I am good - but because Yahweh is Great.
On to other matters.
This week I celebrated three anniversaries.
One year post transplant on Thursday.
Sixteen years post my first transplant today (Sunday).
Twenty three years since first getting sick with what is known as HUS - Hemolytic Uremic Syndrome - celebrated today (Sunday).
It is fun to celebrate these days. To celebrate the extra life I have been given. To think about how I should have died years ago because of all the complications but instead I am live today.
But it can also be bittersweet to celebrate. As I continually remembered this week as I did a year ago - someone else died. Someone else's family was left aching. While we were celebrating life another family was mourning death. That is always in the back of my mind.
And celebrating my first transplant feels a little weird. Because even though I am proud of my dad and that he gave of himself - it feels weird to celebrate something that had to be fixed. Something that is now over shadowed. Something that can no longer be called the one but instead the first one. That can be a little depressing.
As is the inescapable fact that 23 years since first getting sick means 23 years of sickness. 23 years of waking up not knowing what health challenges I will face that day. 23 years of fighting for life. 23 years of deciding that yet again today I will get up and live to the best of my ability. And it's a reminder that in my life these current post transplant days are the "healthiest" life I will know. A life that is still full of medications everyday and doctors' appointments and pain. And that is kind of a sucky reminder.
So I have to remind myself that these days are not about me.
We don't celebrate because I did anything great. I got sick and then took a great nap while being cut open. I really didn't do anything at all.
We celebrate because God did great things. God let me live. God got me through all the sucky bad days. God got me through the first eight hour transplant and then got me through another two hour transplant and all the surgeries before, in between, and after. God found the matches. God found the doctors. God gave them wisdom to put me on the right meds. God whispered to me softly to press on when I wanted to give up.
And so we celebrate - not because I am good - but because Yahweh is Great.
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