Almost listing +1

I have a post that I started two days ago. It has two sentences in it and I just can't get up the gumption to keep going. It is this new adventure that is on my mind.

A heart transplant.

There is a TV show about this stuff. How could it be happening to us? To David, I know, but as we have been a team for almost 30 years -- a formal team for almost 30 years, a team from the moment we met which was about 6 years earlier. So, it is happening to me, him, us all at the same time.

I have this strange but absolutely normal feeling for me, that I can write my way through this. I have been journaling about everything important, not important, self-indulgent, or otherwise, for a very long time. Longer than Cheshire has been alive. It used to be in notebooks and then pretty leather bound books. Now, I have this screen and sometimes commenters who make it feel like I am talking to someone instead of myself. So much of this is to myself, but I like the openness, the publicness of the forum. As if, I can be assured that I am not nuts, or maybe that sometimes I am nuts. Reality check.

After our first shock, the evening of the first PTO meeting that I acted as president -- which in itself was strange because I came home all pumped with adrenlin and David had to talk about what the docs had said to him. He very sweetly had let me concentrate on the meeting and keep it all to himself until I was finished with my busienss. So, on task, after the shock and fear, we/I have become amazingly comfortable with this journey/challenge/adventure. And that is what it really is -- a challenge to meet. I do not feel the hand of doom on our lives. I am not crushed by it. I do feel the need to sort of check myself every so often to see if this is still my experience -- how have we managed to feel so upbeat about all of this?

I have never taken David as an optimist -- yes, in art but that is a passion where optimism is part of the pre-assembled equipment, but in most things is life, the guy tends to see that glass just a bit less than half full. But in this, this scary, thorny, operation that could fail, that he could have NOT qualified for, he is sure it will work. And I am.

It is as if this is a path that we knew we would always have to take and so we have been preparing for a very long time.

I worry about Julia. I know we will have help and support to get her through this but I am worried about trauma and pushing her back. Again, it is life, and part of her life, and she will be more supported for this trauma than she ever has been. Still, mothers worry.