Waiting: Day 12

I was in a parking lot this evening chatting with a friend when I heard something that made me want to throw up and sit down on the pavement and cry...it was only the sound of someone remotely unlocking their car, but I swear it sounded like a pager going off. The looks on my face and my friend's were a strange combination of horror and surprise. Surprise for her, and horror for me.

I was listed for heart transplant 12 days ago and I have spent as much time as possible during those 12 days in active denial. It hasn't been an easy task, since so many have wanted to offer congratulations and support and when I've been unable to escape all of the optimism, I've done my best to play along and celebrate with them (sort of).

I don't want to have a heart transplant.

Like, really, really, really don't want to have a heart transplant.

Part of being listed for transplant is sitting with a counselor to discuss and initial each of an 8 page document outlining all of the risks and side effects that come with the procedure, recovery, and medications. It's very detailed and leaves no questioning that even the best case will come with some life long challenges. I don't want to be that tough...and so I deny. But tonight's small test run has caused me to glance at my reality knowing that I'm going to have to make eye contact, then face it, sometime soon.

I haven't packed my overnight bag yet (a conscious act of defiance), but I'm sure going to be bummed if that pager goes off and I have to check in to the hospital without a tin of Victoria Secret lip balm, my own toothbrush, and my favorite yoga pants. So I'll make myself a promise to do something transplant-y before the end of the week...maybe purchase an extra deodorant for that overnight bag?