Holy Moly. I can't believe I'm writing this, but...I FINALLY. Actually. REALLY got a friggin' double lung transplant. I am still in shock. It really, really has come true!!!

First of all, let me start with a small apology for once again dropping off the Blogosphere for too long. My friend, Kateri, has regularly scolded and prodded me - to no avail. Yes; I can be stubborn. I had nothing to share: I had lost hope and for months had feelings of hopelessness, of despair, that I simply could not share, or risk taking my blog and it's readers' insight of me, down a very dark path where too many people would have been worried, or worse: thought me unstable... it would have been ugly. No. Better for all that I simply skipped it. The people who needed to know, knew. Not everything needs to be published. I'm sorry. Let me fill you in a bit on what's been going on.

In October (2009) our beloved dog, Chiba, started to have severe pain and fail. We did everything we could to keep her comfortable and happy, but it was spinal cancer, and there was really nothing to do, but to send her on her way to that better place. It was very sudden, and she was gone within the week. Ron and I took her to the vet and said our tearful goodbyes to our dear friend. She left a huge hole in our hearts, our home. Her last hours were spent with me, Ron and Mom continuously touching, petting and loving her: if we dared stop for a moment, she would lift her head and look at us, like "Well, Geez: don't stop now!" She was a demanding little dog. ha. She died without a doubt that she was loved and had taken very good care of us. We miss that girl. Her ashes and dog tags will sit on our mantle until we can bear to let go more fully.

I had quit working in December 2008, and was placed on the Lung Transplant List at UWMC in Seattle on 23 February 2009. So by January 2010, the New Year, when I had still not gotten The Call after eleven months, I was in a tailspin. This has been a long haul!! They had estimated 3-6 months that I would wait, and while I understood there was no guarantee, I was kinda clinging to that time frame. After all: they are the professionals, right?? I can't tell you how many calls I put in to my various sources of encouragement, trying to hold on to hope. My mother; Ron; sister Ingrid; my friends Mimi, Donna, MaryPat, Lisa, Jill, and numerous others. Each of you individually saved me from the abyss on several occasions; listened to my tears helplessly and just let me cry - which was all you could do and all I really needed. When would i get The Call?? Was I actually going to die waiting for transplant?? Am I so short they can't find a donor to match? I called too often to the lung transplant coordinator and social worker: "How many more transplants have you done? What's going on??" The truth was, they weren't doing many transplants: there was a huge lull in donors/transplants over the Summer and fall and everyone was waiting, waiting, waiting. The transplant team is ever so patient, and would talk me down from the ledge, just like they had probably done with the caller before me; and would with the caller after me.

I had finally admitted about six months ago that I was indeed in need of supplemental oxygen 24 hours a day. Actually, I probably needed it much earlier but you all know by now how much I loved my warm cloak of denial. If I didn't wear it, I didn't need it..right?? It was the BEST farce! But it had gotten to the point that I was so tired, my heart working so hard to oxygenate my cells, I just could not do it without the nasal cannula. So I had the oxygen company deliver a concentrator, and we learned to tune out the continuous hum and rattle of the machine that would take o2 from the atmosphere and concentrate it so I could breath it with a long, 50ft nasal cannula that followed me (and got tangled on every frickin' little thing) throughout the house. The temper tantrums I threw getting used to that 50ft long "leash," and the sailor-potty-mouth that I developed when it would get snagged or torn off my face as I walked around the house I think were frightening to my poor Ronnie. That poor man: what fortitude he has had throughout this. WHERE did he come from, and what the HELL is he made of?? And how the hell did I snag him??

And then: On February 24th, 2010...at 09:07am...One year and one day....Three hundred and sixty-six days after being placed on the Lung Transplant List...My phone rang. It was a Wednesday morning. My mother was at our house, cleaning my kitchen. I had just showered and gotten dressed. Ron was at work. It was the lung transplant coordinator, Kathy Weakly. I had just spoken with her the day before, so it was unusual that she would call again. She was so calm, friendly. Of course, for eleven months now, whenever I have gotten a call from (206) area code, it has put us in a small state of alarm, of hope...anticipation. I stood still as she spoke, Mom and I stared at each other, waiting to hear what she was calling for.

"Hi, Rebecca, How are you?"

"I'm fine, Kathy....how are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine. Listen, we have a potential Donor that we think may be a perfect match for you. But I need to ask you; have you had any fever or coughs lately? Are you well? Do you feel sick in any way?"

"No, Kathy. Really??" (I'm looking at my Mom, wide-eyed and smiling, nodding my head and fanning my free hand. Mom's looking at me; wide-eyed, nervous, and VERY worried... excited.)

"Really. Okay that's good. So listen...I don't need you to break any sound barriers, but why don't you go ahead and pack a bag and start on up here."

"REALLY?"

"Really."

"Where is the donor? (It had been my understanding they would tell you so you could estimate the amount of time you had to get up there.)

"I can't tell you that! Just come on up, get here when you can. Drive safe. You're not driving yourself, are you?"

"No, Kathy; my husband will drive. REALLY?? You have a donor??"

"Yes, Rebecca we think we do. We'll see you soon. I'm excited for you."

Over the months Ron and I had made (and revised over and over) a checklist of tasks to accomplish in this moment. We knew that we would be wrecks, and thank God that we did: we WERE kind of wrecks! The first item on the checklist: " REMAIN CALM....THIS MAY WELL BE A DRY RUN!!" There are times when a donor turns out not to be viable and the transplant is called off; one person on the list whom I have met in the past was put under general anesthesia, only to wake up and find out that she had NOT gotten the transplant because the donor turned out not to be suitable. So we had to temper our excitement with the knowledge of this possibility for disappointment.

I had to call Ron at work. We had agreed long ago that I would call the OR front desk and let them know so they could get his replacement and he could leave immediately. I called Brad, the OR Charge Nurse. I could barely get the words out for all my nerves, shaking and in-coming tears. "Brad this is Rebecca. I've gotten the call to come up for transplant, and I need you to get Ron out of work." Brad said his congratulations and said he would get Ron out. Two minutes later, Ron called and said "I'm on my way...start going down the checklist. I love you! This is it!"

My mother was so nervous, bless her soul. I think she finished cleaning the kitchen, with her mind swirling. She had only days before come back from a visit to San Antonio to see my sister and had not had a chance to repack her travel bag for when we got the call (we had all had a Go-Bag ready for months, waiting!) She said that she'd get things when we got there. Then we decided there was time: she would get a cab to her apartment and pack a bag while Ron and I took care of our own, lengthy checklist (how fast can you shut down YOUR house for an undetermined period of time, not knowing what the future holds or when you will be back?) and would come pick her up in 45 min or so. This worked well. Ron and I got our things together, closed up the house, put our new dog, Bach (yes! We have a new friend! More on hiim later) out and hit the road. By 10:00 am the three of us were together, in the Subaru, heading North on I-5 to Seattle.

We had gotten The Call.