A year has already gone by. It was last November when I was diagnosed with Pulmonary Fibrosis. I think I spent the first three months in shock, maybe longer, maybe I still am, in shock, that is. I come from a family where all the woman, on both sides live well into their 90's. I'm not going to be one of those woman, unless I had a lung transplanet, and I am too old to be considered. It's weird knowing your demise is sooner instead of later. When I first was diagnosed I thought I could write about all of my feelings about this disease on my blog, but I have discovered that I can't do that. Just tonight when I started to write this post I realized that talking about death, especially mine, is just too hard. I just can't put myself out there. I wish I could because I think it would help me accept my disease. I wonder if others with terminal diseases feel this way.
I will tell you this.....it's lonely. No one wants to talk about it and mostly people either pretend there is nothing wrong with me or they go way overboard with the kindness. Neither one of these reactions help me one bit. A few of my really close friends treat me just the same as they always did. I am grateful for that. They ask how I'm doing because they really want to know. That feels good. What I want the most is for people to act the same as they always have.
I have to start using oxygen during the day now. I get out of breath if I go to the grocery or the mall. This will bring on more of what I don't want. People who know there is something wrong (because you can't hide oxygen tubing when you are wearing it on your face) and look at me with pity.
I guess it reads like I'm kind of having a pity party right now though.
Honestly, I don't feel sorry for me. I am just sad about leaving the ones I love.
Okay, for saying I couldn't put it out there, I guess I just have...kind of. I promise everything I write from now on won't be a downer. I plan on enjoying the hell out of the rest of my life. Sometimes though, the thoughts go deep. It is what it is.
I will tell you this.....it's lonely. No one wants to talk about it and mostly people either pretend there is nothing wrong with me or they go way overboard with the kindness. Neither one of these reactions help me one bit. A few of my really close friends treat me just the same as they always did. I am grateful for that. They ask how I'm doing because they really want to know. That feels good. What I want the most is for people to act the same as they always have.
I have to start using oxygen during the day now. I get out of breath if I go to the grocery or the mall. This will bring on more of what I don't want. People who know there is something wrong (because you can't hide oxygen tubing when you are wearing it on your face) and look at me with pity.
I guess it reads like I'm kind of having a pity party right now though.
Honestly, I don't feel sorry for me. I am just sad about leaving the ones I love.
Okay, for saying I couldn't put it out there, I guess I just have...kind of. I promise everything I write from now on won't be a downer. I plan on enjoying the hell out of the rest of my life. Sometimes though, the thoughts go deep. It is what it is.
