Sunday, April 4, 2010

New Post

I feel like I need a new post. Today is Easter -- a celebration of New Life and spring and grace and love (or at least that's how I see it) -- and if there were ever a day deserving of a new post, I think this is it.

Today was lovely.

Okay, so I don't mean to romanticize it. Today was not my most relaxing Easter, to say the least -- my throat is sore, my brain is still a bit confused and addled, my body has multiple holes in it that I keep discovering, and my oxygen is low. I'm tired, and drained, and a little loopy and beat up (but hey, you should see the other guy!). And to top it all off, my father went out yesterday AFTER the "damp run" and decided to blow off steam with a bike ride around Manhattan. All well and good until someone drives a van out in front of you and you end up in yet ANOTHER New York City ER getting stitches in your lip. And would you believe the man had the decency not even to call those of us back home trying to sleep off the ICU? He just got his stitches and rode his bike back to the apt. Needless to say we were all a bit befuddled when he sat down at the table with a busted lip and a sprained wrist. (On the bright side, it takes some of the attention away from me and my battle wounds!)

But today, of all days, truly was lovely.

Today I took my puppy on two walks, balancing a leash, a gimpy father, and portable O2.

Today I ate an amazing Easter dinner with my mom, my dad, and my amazing sister, with my puppy at my feet.

Today we finally talked about what happened, shared the funny stories about half-awake conversations and waiting room drama -- and were actually able to giggle at (almost) everything that went down.

Today I took a really, really hot bath.

Today was 75 degrees in New York, and I spent time outside with my puppy in the dog run, watching him play (or not play) with all his friends and neighbors.

Today my parents presented me with an Easter basket for the first time in years.

Today I breathed, perhaps not as deeply as I thought I would be breathing, but with lungs that still work and with air that means I am still alive.

Today I spoke with my wonderful doctor, again.

Today I did exercises in the apartment until I could feel my muscles starting to respond, and felt the fogginess sort of melting away.

Today I watched The Blind Side with my family. I loved it.

Today I learned that rebirth doesn't just come from transplant, or from great events, or from even that Ultimate Sacrifice that God made for us. Today I learned that sometimes new life just means waking up and seeing things a little differently -- knowing that even when things go wrong, even when we're a little beat up and a lot disappointed, we can still keep breathing.

Today was a really, truly, honestly, lovely day.


  1. What a wonderful post, thank you so much for sharing all these parts of your journey. You have no idea what a gift you are giving us. I will keep my fingers crossed that the next call is THE call. Hugs to you!

  2. Dear Piper,
    My wonderful son Alex gave me the heads up about your blog. He is really one of your biggest fans. We are all thinking about you and keeping our fingers crossed.
    And my family watched The Blind Side today too. The young man in that film wrote so movingly of the combination of courage and honor. He might well have been writing about you. Your example of personal courage and honor is gift to us all on this Easter day.
    With my most sincere good wishes and endless respects,
    Barry Nolan

  3. Happy Easter Piper - to you and your family. Your strength and positive outlook is amazing. Glad to hear your Dad's OK. {{{hugs}}}

  4. Happy, happy Easter! So glad you are feeling better and that your father wasn't hurt badly! YIKES.

  5. Piper,
    I've never commented before, but I wanted to say that I've learned so much from your blog. I'm praying for you. I know your lungs will come very soon!


  6. these past few months and especially this weekend, you have taught me that rebirth can also come from witnessing someone continually triumph over unthinkable adversity with gratitude, strength and resilience beyond belief. the symbolism of your cf lungs miraculously bouncing back without incident after intubation and anesthesia is not lost on me for a second.

  7. No sugar coating it, it sucks you had to go through that. It made my little dry run seem like a walk in the park....

    I wish the time would come for all our friends in need...

  8. I love the story about your dad. I mean, I don't love he got hit by a van! But, he sounds just like my dad.

    I won't keep saying hang in there, because you already are! But, I will say that we all love you and are here to support you. Girl, you have accumulated some pretty great material for a book someday! Or a guiness world record, or you!

  9. Such a beautiful post as usual Piper. Brought tears to my eyes <3

  10. You deserve such a wonderful day Piper :)

  11. After reading this post, I was sitting there thinking about it and I became aware of my lungs, breathing in and out for me as they have my whole life. I never thanked them or appreciated them before.

    When I read your fluent, nuanced, precise writing, I always think the same thing: "She should write a book!"

  12. Piper - I still can't believe all that's been happening to you. My goodness, when those lungs do come, and they are the ones that are for YOU - you sure will be ready. That's the bright side. I am still however so sad that you have to go through this. I keep thinking which I would have preferred being in your shoes or mine. I don't remember anything, I sometimes wish I remembered more. You seem to have too much information, too much 'awareness'. I'm just blabbing now. Love your blog, and really cannot wait for you to wake up with the real thing. My body is so strong now, better each day, better than I could have ever imagined. I cannot wait for you to take on NY strong and healthy. I cannot wait.

  13. It sounds like you had a great day! Sucks about your dad though! It sounds like your weather is better than mine, I'm coming to visit and get some sun! <3 Love you cyster.

  14. I think you are amazing. Thank you for this post and the way you share your emotions and feelings so perfectly. My daughter Lucy has CF, she's 19 months old. I am praying for you and your upcoming (hopefully soon!) transplant, you deserve the best set of lungs possible! God bless & thank you so much for sharing!