I Didn't Need a Hero. I Needed Evidence.

Lately, I've been thinking about the people reading this blog.

Not the healthy ones.

The patients.

The ones carrying several diagnoses at the same time.

COPD.

Heart disease.

Diabetes.

Cancer.

A transplant.

Or some creative combination that requires a pill organizer the size of a toolbox.

I often wonder what keeps them going.

Not medically.

Psychologically.

What gets them out of bed on the days when getting dressed already feels like an achievement?

What makes them keep walking when breathing hurts?

Keep taking medication when the side effects need medication of their own?

Keep making plans while knowing the body may cancel them without notice?

I honestly don't know.

When I was at my sickest, there wasn't one answer.

Some days I exercised because I was determined.

Some days, because I was frightened.

Some days, because Shoshi gave me that look that meant I wasn't getting out of it.

And some days, arguing required more oxygen than walking.

People like to believe there's a secret.

A philosophy.

A sentence that changes everything.

I've never found one.

Most of us simply deal with today because today arrived.

Tomorrow will have to wait.

Writing this blog has made me wonder about something else.

Why do people read it?

I don't think it's because I have extraordinary advice.

I certainly don't have extraordinary lungs.

And I hope it isn't because people are looking for inspiration.

The world already has enough inspirational stories.

I'm much more interested in the ordinary ones.

The days when nothing dramatic happens.

The days when you remember your medication.

Or forget it.

When you walk a little farther than yesterday.

Or not.

When you cough all morning and convince yourself you're rejecting your lungs...

...only to discover it's probably just another cough.

Those are the days I recognize.

And I suspect many of you do too.

Looking back, I realize that when I was struggling, I wasn't looking for heroes.

Heroes are exhausting.

They always know what to say.

They always stay positive.

They always seem to have a lesson ready for the end of the chapter.

I didn't need that.

I needed evidence.

Evidence that somebody else had been frightened.

Evidence that somebody else had doubted themselves.

Evidence that somebody else occasionally laughed at the absurdity of needing three specialists to explain one body.

Evidence that life, although different, could still be recognizably life.

Maybe that's what this blog really is.

Not advice.

Not motivation.

Just evidence.

Evidence that none of us is as alone as we sometimes think.

If someone finishes reading one of these posts and quietly says,

"I thought I was the only one..."

Then this blog has already done everything I hoped it would.

The rest is just writing.