A Moment

Last night, we were sitting together in a restaurant surrounded by three couples who have all become our friends. Good friends from our book club. There was never a quiet moment. Time flew by.

In the middle of it all, I suddenly paused to just drink it all in. This moment. The smells. The sounds. The people.

I was reminded that it was a bloody miracle that I was sitting there, seven years after being given a bad diagnosis, with no supplemental oxygen, weighing less than I have weighed in decades, enjoying couples who were both new to us and old friends, sitting next to the man who still loves and even still likes me after being married for almost 39 years and I wanted to weep.

Years ago when the diagnosis was very new and very dire, I wish I could have been able to sneak a peek of that moment in the restaurant and know that was where I was heading instead of into an early grave. What drove me to dismiss the predictions of my early demise? I knew in my gut that I could take control of the treatment of the disease. Yes, I did what the doctors wanted me to do but I knew that it was, after all, MY body. I began an anti-inflammatory diet immediately. I could at least have control over what I ate even if I had no control over the disease. Also in August of 2005, I began pulmonary rehab which, I believe, has greatly lengthened my life and provided a much better quality of the life I have left.

The future is still unknown. It could all change tomorrow with a resounding crash. But last night, just for that moment, I was so grateful and surprised how far I have come. It was a moment I shall never forget.