PE and DVT

So it's been exactly 3 weeks since my adventures in the hospital. I refused and still do to do more than dip a toe into how serious this was, even an overnight stay in the hospital isn't something I'm willing to dwell on too much.  The nurse at the pulmonoligst's office felt the need to stress to me how often people die from a pulmonary embolism. I have gotten a glimpse of the future, of the woman I'm terrified to be. The woman at the grocery store in the gopher, the woman looking years older than she is, the one who cannot even walk from her car to the store.  This was a gift to me and I can't look at it as anything other than that.

I've learned about me too, that I can ask for help, that I can accept help even when it makes me crazy not to do for myself.  I can embrace the people in my life who hover and worry even though I refuse to acknowledge it.

My path to a healthy, vibrant, happy, strong 90 year old woman starts now, started last year when I trained for the 1/2 marathon, started 5 years ago when I got mixed up with Dr Jen Huberty and www.befitminded.com.  But working out is only one part of my path to 90.

Another part? I am going after Masters Degree #2 this fall at Creighton.  My Grama Gerry always said, of education, "They can't take it away from you." I'm not sure who "they" are, but I always took that very much to heart, education and learning is so important.  I intend, for the rest of my life, to stay curious and to go down those rabbit holes of learning for learnings sake.

Finally I'm going to get back into meditation.  There is no greater gift than this moment we have now.  No greater promise to the future than to breathe the current moment in and out with deliberation.  There is healing in silence, there is healing in breath, there is healing in each of us.

I'm working on my Plan for the future, I can see exactly what I want and although the path may change and shift as time goes on, I know who I want to see when I get there.  My clear brown eyes, smiling face, huge laugh and dancing my way through the days and nights.  What are you doing?

Oh, and in my head, the clot in my lung is a star, guiding me forward and lighting the path ahead, and I still refuse to think about how serious it was.