So in case you ever doubted, let me tell you that God does have a sense of humor. I spent a year on the lung transplant list. A year and a day! That entire time, I swore I would stay groomed, lest I get called in to surgery in need of maintenance, which would only get worse over the course of a two to three week hospital stay (which is how much time we were told to expect my stay to be.) So I spent inordinate amounts of time keepin' up the maintenance. Ladies, you know the deal: the skin care, the wax jobs, the pedicures, the shaving, the plucking, the haircuts - precisely so that I would not go into surgery looking like the Geico Caveman's wife. Well, don'cha just know: I had a hair appointment scheduled in two weeks, and a wax job/pedicure appointment for the next friggin' day!!!! I hadn't shaved my legs in probably three days. And I was about to be exposed for the cave woman that I really am. Damn...talk about Murphy's Law.

We drove to Seattle together, arriving at UW a few hours later. Thanks to Ron's good driving we made it, safe and sound. The ride up was full of happiness, of worry, dreams of the future, introspective silence, and a few tears of anxiety. My sisters called several times to check in on us. The emails started to pour in on our iPhones - wishes of luck, prayers, and happiness There was no doubt many, many people were in on this ride with us. The positive energy you all sent was palpable. We felt enveloped with warmth.

We checked in to the admitting area, and I was given the gown and told to change. The wheels of the transplant machine started to turn. I was given my own gurney, had several interviews, an IV start, vital signs were taken. The transplant coordinator, Kathy Weakly came by to chat, and all we wanted to know is; is this a "go", or a "dry run?" As far as she knew it was a "go," but they still had to do some last minute testing on the donor lungs. Ron was all a-glow, holding my hand: he was so psyched! "I'm gonna get my woman back! Finally!" Mom was a little more worried, reserved - introspective. She prayed silently, kissed my head. Never has someone felt more loved. I vacillated between elation and short bursts of inner panic. I needed some time alone with each of them, and they with me. We shared the next hour or so together, and they each took several turns giving the other privacy with me. It was time for saying what had to be said: the most important things and yet the most simple. How do you say I love you - possibly for the last time? What words do you use to thank someone for loving you so well, so that they never forget it if they never hear it again? This very moment in life, I have been lucky enough to experience.

Finally, a friendly Anesthesiology Fellow by the name of Kaeck, ("Sounds like Birthday Cake!") came and introduced herself, and said she would be with me during the surgery. She did her interview and started an arterial line in my left wrist (ouch!!) "Is this a go?" She didn't know yet, but they were proceeding as if it were. Shortly after, the attending anesthesiologist, Dr Krishna, came by and introduced himself. He told Dr. Kaeck that indeed Dr Mulligan was en route with the donor lungs; we needed to proceed to the Operating Room in the next ten minutes. A little shot of Versed was pushed into my IV.

"Is this really a go??"

"It's really a go; it's Time."

Mom, Ron and I said our goodbyes. Suddenly I was not afraid (ah...Versed...) I was just really, really ready. Let's go: let's do this! I wasn't worried about survival, or pain, or recovery....This was in God's hands, and I willingly and completely surrendered. I was ready for new lungs: A new life! A life without supplemental oxygen and tanks and backpacks and tubes and shortness of breath and limitations and without that damned, constantly dry, sore nose. Dr Kaeck pushed me away on the gurney and I looked back as we turned the corner to leave the room. One last look. There was my husband and my mother, each smiling, waving. "See you very soon! I love you!" It was happy.

We rolled into the operating room, and I was surrounded by the familiar bustle. You see; I used to BE an Operating Room Nurse! What a strange thing, to ride into an OR on a gurney, as the patient. I recognized the equipment, knew who was the surgical tech, who were the RN's. A mask was shortly placed over my face to allow my lungs to fill with 100% oxygen; the last few breaths my old lungs would take, soon to be replaced by the lungs of an angel.

I was so ready.