Last August, I was still driving to rehab. There, I met Joanne. She'd been on the Pittsburgh transplant list for two years and had scleroderma for eight. Younger than I, she was walking that treadmill for 15 minutes and more. I was impressed and encouraged. I believe sometime in October, the rehab patients and staff wished her luck as she left for her three month check-up. She would be my barometer. For months, no one heard a word except that the doctors had her stay at the hospital. Meanwhile, my health was declining. My heart straining and the water retention rising, i.e. heart failure. I couldn't make it to rehab anymore. The rest of my story you know. I never stopped thinking about Joanne. When I finally was able to speak to her husband, he just kept telling me to do what I needed to do to get on the list. As you know, I went into battle.
Having not heard a word for months, the husband didn't return my phone call, I feared the worst and I made my decision to change strategies since the odds were so not in my favor. When I saw Joanne's picture in the paper surrounded by her husband and two boys, I was just thrilled for her. She did it! She got through the horrific experience. I must confess I felt envy. I also had doubt, could I have survived the ordeal? I closed my eyes, and sat with my breath, in and out. I'm back to feeling at peace with my choices. As for Joanne, she's a champion in my book. I might never see her again, but I'll be rooting for her to live her best life with little complications.
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