remembering to breathe

Yesterday my brother called. His gastroenterologist had just told him she's fine giving the transplant green light. His biopsy results were better than expected. From her perspective all is good to go. 

I was standing in the cold rain, jeans plastered to my legs, futilely searching for replacement glass shades down on the Bowery. That was after getting Jack to an early play date, doing 8 loads of laundry, much of that because of two dogs vomiting through the night, and extricating my car from an ineptly run garage. 


It had been a shit morning. That turned around so fast I felt whiplash in my neck. 


This was the last hurdle, the last issue, the last clearance we needed to get things back on track. 


And so, I did what I tend to do in these intense situations (anonymous 2: kidney donor, now is the time for you to head to another page), I crashed into a deep sleep. Woke up and had a major freak out. And then I went out to dinner.


I have to say, I've learned so much about myself through this process. I've also learned to accept myself more than I ever have. Instead of railing against who I am, berating myself for my weaknesses, feeling guilty or ashamed of who I am and how I react, I'm letting it be. Losing it is part of how I deal. The deep, sweeping emotions are who I am. When I don't let them flow, they eat away at me from the inside. 


I lived that for years. 


Not anymore.


I also am learning that even when, in the midst of it all it feels like I won't find my ground again, I always do. Always. And I think these endless delays have helped me get to a more grounded, realistic place to face surgery from.


I'm still scared. I'm still worried and nervous and anxious and shaky. I still visit what ifs. I still wish I had more control. I still, more than anything, want guarantees. 


I'm still me. 


But me with more tolerance for myself and acceptance for all the unknowns. Me with patience. Me with an ease in the moment I don't usually have.


This week we spent a few days at my brother's weekend house. I drove there myself—something I'd normally never do. I played catch in the backyard for hours with Jack. I rode Iz's bike to the beach and explored the boardwalk alone for miles. I even played Monopoly with a minimum of complaining. I slept really well. Swung in a hammock with a pit bull desperate to sit with me. I spent far less time online than I usually do. I stopped caring that my hair looked like I'd just exited a wind tunnel. 


And I know, that if tomorrow another wrench gets thrown in the process, it won't throw me this time. We could get a date. Or we could face another unexpected delay.


Either is ok at this point. 


The thumb's up biopsy result is what's now. And that's something to sit with I'm super grateful for.