Dreaming About Running

I dream about running. When I am on the trail along the ocean, beautiful runners with their long, easy strides glided effortlessly past me. Well, most of them. Then come the ones who pass me struggling and looping along like how I used to run, even as a child. I was never a good runner.

But, I would love to feel the easy flow of enough oxygen. To run without being short of breath. To have that beautiful stride and the feeling that I could run forever. That is what I think about when I think about a my future single lung transplant. That is my goal: to simply being able to run.

I met a person before the rehab class yesterday. She was doing an introduction to the 8-week education/workout pulmonary classes and Sherman began a conversation with her. She had been turned down for a lung transplant. He told her about me. After her session, we met. I knew immediately why she had been turned down - her weight. In a very quick conversation before I was called into our class, we did a quick run down on the problems of long-term prednisone theory. She, too, was eating non-fat Greek yogurt and berries every morning thinking she was eating in a healthy manner. Well, all that has sugar and is processed poorly due to the prednisone. I promised that I would pull together about 25 recipes for her.

I took off to class where I talked to the head of the rehab program. We were still talking when she returned and the three of us chatted for about ten more minutes. I learned that she spends most of her time on a couch. She was still in the frantic stages of dealing with the horrible diagnosis of COPD. I looked her in the eyes and said, "If I could only give you a sneak peek into your life a few months and years ahead, you would be shocked. If you eat properly and learn to exercise safely here in class, you will be feeling fantastic. I promise." The head of the program told me that all we discussed was much more meaningful coming from me as I have been through the worst of the wars and have settled into a normal life of living with a bad diagnosis. She also told me that when I made the promise to her, the head of the program saw hope in her eyes. Probably for the first time in a long time, someone truly understood all the emotions of feeling isolated, not understanding all the is happening and feeling so helpless. And hopeless.

This was what I wanted to give to her. There is hope. I am standing, living proof that if she eats non-starchy vegetables, 3-4 ounces of lean protein and exercises everyday, there will be a better quality life ahead. Life.

When I was really sick, I remember dreaming about being able to just walk down a street. Maybe one day soon, she will also be dreaming about running.