Finally.

So here I am. So here we are. December 29th, 39 days post transplant. I am here, alive, breathing, writing, once again in my blog. How cool is that?

I know it has been a while, and I am sorry I could not write sooner. So many times I wanted to. I missed the outlet so much, but it was not time yet. Not until today, 39 days later.

Today I am perhaps a week or so from going home. I am so lost right now as to where to start this post. I was told just to make it short, but how can I? I have so much to say, and over the next few weeks may be months I will try to say it all, as well as write about home, what it feels like to finally, finally be home. As I said I am perhaps a week away, from home.

Let me start off by saying thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. To everyone out there, and I now know there are many of you, that have supported me through what has been the most difficult thing I could have ever imagined going through. There are so many of you out there that I am often stunned by the response. It has been captivating for me to watch. But I have to say that I feel honoured to have your attention in the way that I do. The people I have met, the love that I have been shown is unbelievable. From neighbours dropping off food, friends helping out where they could, to the most heroic gesture I could imagine: A man calling TGH and offering to be a living donor of a lobe of his lung to save my life, when there were no lungs in sight and my family was strongly considering the living donor route. I will never forget the city that Toronto is. Though of course we have received notes from all over the world. People are just good.

It has been terribly difficult for me to get emotionally well again, but I am getting there. This is partly due to the fact that I don't remember months before I got my lungs and much after the operation. It is a strange and unsettling feeling when one moment you are at a certain point in time, and one day you wake up somewhere new, with seemingly everything lost. That's how it felt anyhow. I don't remember waking up from my operation, it happened several times in the ICU and each time my family had to relay the fact that yes I did get my lungs, it did happen, it's over, it went well. i was in and out, and every time the same conversation occurred. The problem was when I finally did come to I could not move a single body part. I could wiggle my fingers, and toes, perhaps my feet. My neck could barely shift from one side to the other. It was singlehandidly the most horrifying moment of my life. The weeks to follow I will slowly write about in the posts to follow. There is so much to say. But I have to say the first 3 weeks were nothing I could have pictured, imagined, or even believed if I was told that could happen to me. I was in bed so long, got so sick before the transplant, that I had lost every other capacity. Those first 3 weeks. I close my eyes now I cannot believe I am here. Like this, now. I made it. With incredibly hard work, pain, will, and determination, and let's not forget the most unbelievable family anyone could ask for.

My lungs came. Can you believe, my lungs came. i call them mine, but there belonged to a lovely woman that lost her life. Her family made the decision to donate her organs, and in turn saved my life that Saturday afternoon. Truly at the 11th hour. When I breathe now, I breathe a little bit of her. I don't know who she was as a person, but I know her in some way. She is certainly watching her perfect lungs working away, and she is so deeply proud of her family for making the choice that they made and followed her wishes. I have so much gratitude in my heart. I wanted to live, and only due to her and her family was I able to survive. I know the family is reading this, I know it, so thank you. You saved my life, and gave my daughter her mom back, my husband his wife, my mom and dad their daughter, and my brother his sister. I can continue to be a friend and live the life that I have always wanted to live, breathing deeply.

I'm sure you're all curious how it feels. Now that I can walk again, and though weak and thin, and still with much more strides to gain, how does it feel to breathe? The answer is, it's like magic. i don't cough. Ever. At all. In fact I am learning how to cough, as it does not come that easily now, especially after being on the ventilator as long as I was. i have a saturation of 99%, sometimes 100% at rest and when walking or exercising. I can hold my breath for ever. I can talk and talk without choking or having a coughing fit. It's magic. There is nothing else I can say about it. It has been worth every struggle, pain, fear, and tear. It's been worth everything.

I don't want to stop writing, I have so much to say, but I am tired. My eyes are not used to the screen and typing quite yet. Before I go, I want to say a few things about my family. i can't leave that for another time. When I was unable to fight any longer, when I was that sick, and when many people gave up on a transplant ever happening, my family fought. They worked so hard, got me the best care, and each and everyone were ready to give up part of their lungs to save my life as a living donor. My mom and aunt were deemed too small, so my dad, brother, and Martin were all assessed and ready to go. All are a compatible blood type and all did not hesitate for a single second. When I think about that, well, you can only imagine. During the last month my mom has been faithfully raising Scarlett, who is growing healthy and strong. She has done such an incredible job, and its amazing to see how much they both love each other. Martin is the man that has done the impossible (the doctors and rehab people are completely shocked at the progress i have made during the past 2 weeks) and got me walking again. Moving, lifting weights, the whole deal. He is the reason why I am going to walk out of here soon. Once again proving to me that we're such an awesome team, and so utterly, without a question, almost to a fault, in love.

Ah, it is time to stop writing.

i have contemplated if I should post these pics, and I have decided to. If they are too hard for people to see perhaps because I am so thin, or due to the scar, or my breasts (what's left of them anyhow) just be warned. I think they are incredible. They will help me remember. These were done by Myles who's an amazing photographer, and someone who I am filled with gratitude for having in my life.

(Above: right side drainage tubes)

(Above: today at 95 lbs., ouch...gotta eat)

(Above: The Novalung scar)

(Below: The whole incision, two drainage tubes on the right, three on the left)