These time changes always seem to mess with me a little (especially the first week).

Now that I know I’m listed I made some changes to my phone after that restless first night afterwards where every little notification & every little thing woke me up after I knew I had gone active.

It’s getting easier of course. It’s just knowing that phone could ring at any moment that throws me off.

I was used to having my ringer off at night, not thinking much about calls from unknown numbers. Now, that changes for obvious reasons.

I turned off all the notifications for app, texts, & messages to drown out any potential distracting chatter & then to be able to sleep peacefully with my ringer on at full volume at night.  The only sound I hear is a ring. I actually like it better, I think.  It’s a little less distracting overall.

At my regular Sunday brunch with a friend, someone at a nearby table had the same ringtone I did. Their phone rang & I jumped.

I had put my phone away in my handbag but I recognized the noise coming from that area. I laughed because I knew I was overtly paranoid, but again it’s just adjusting because I know that call will come when I least expect it to.

Sunday night, a friend/writer buddy called. I  was half asleep but rolled over to check the number to be sure I wasn’t in the habit of ignoring a call at any hour like I used to.  I let it go to voicemail & rolled back over & went to sleep. Paranoia strikes again.

This is certainly a change from 10 days ago when I was on the list & didn’t even know it.

I’m sure after this week is up it won’t seem such a huge jittery deal because my mind will have adjusted to all of this.

The past few weeks regardless, it was all hitting my brain pretty intensely at points that I AM walking this road now, not just preparing to.

My transplant journey is no longer in planning stage, it is reality now.

I admit I still occasionally cry too, because I am mourning the eventual loss of the lungs I was born with.  This as I am already grateful to my donor for their sacrifice.  That may sound odd to some people. I don’t expect them to get it.

Letting go of a part of you is hard, regardless of the circumstance. Even when you know it’s for the best.

I’m not going to sugarcoat things & say this walk has been easy. That’s never been my way.

None of it was or will be, even though it was on my radar for quite a while.

Thankfully, I don’t walk it alone.

There’s no way to prepare in advance for that moment when it all sinks in this is actually going to happen (even as you’re preparing for it & know the time has come).

I’m sure I freak some people out with as open as I’ve tried to be on this walk because it confirms what they feel is their worst nightmare.

But I’ve been at this crossroads before, sometimes without knowing it at the time, other times sensing it.

I don’t say that to be glib or to over simplify the seriousness. I just somehow feel less angry over crossing this bridge than I thought I might be.

I’ve always been one to weigh all the risks & benefits & take the best option when it comes to managing my health.  Right now, this is the best & only option. That is OK.  I’m glad to have it.

I’m glad I was brave enough to face it when I did & not put it off. Or hide out of fear of the process.  For me, it would have happened regardless. There was no dodging it.

I even knew that as I took the chance with Rapamune in 2009.  I knew it would only buy me time.

There is & was no going back. Nothing else that would help or would have changed this outcome.  (I made sure of that even as I was going through the process).

I’m in the best hands I can be in, period.

Whatever happens, happens. Down in my gut I have a good feeling about the outcome & that’s what I draw on now.  (Along with all the good energy & vibes that are being sent my way.)

It’s like being at that highest point on the roller coaster & peeking over the edge.  You know that steep drop is coming, just not sure of the exact moment…