Because there is a strange thing that happens with long-term chronic illness. It starts to make sense that you are in the hospital, that you are once again to be wheeled away from your loved ones toward an uncertain fate…

Also, no one is ever allowed to use the word “pigtail” to describe a chest tube again. Ever.

I'm frustrated, angry, worried, frightened, sad and mostly just crouched over one of my adult coloring books with a pink pencil clenched between my teeth, sweating profusely in a rage of 'roids and coloring like I'm riding for the border and there's a bounty on my head. 

I feel like I've been hit by a Ferrari. But the Ferrari sustained no upfront damage in the crash... and you guys, I get to keep it and drive for years!

I no longer smell like a wet foot and a I feel like a completely different person.

Yet, it seems like every time we take a couple of steps forward, we have a scary setback that knocks us back a bit. Andrea reported that she was unable to breathe.

Everything was going perfectly...and then not so much.

We got the call that Andrea had been matched to a donor heart on Saturday at 12:32 pm. The past 18 hours have been a strange mixture of cyclone and monotony, terror and excitement.

I once had a dream in which I was a sailboat. I was made of wood and my hull was painted a lovely shade of sapphire blue.

If I'm being completely honest, it feels a lot like I'm strapped to the front of a huge locomotive that is rapidly running out of track. 

You guys, I've become Mrs. Howell.

Inside of my brain, this is happening: 
WHOOPWHOOPWHOOP! 
DANGERDANGERDANGER!
THISISNOTADRILL!
DANGERDANGERDANGER!
WHOOPWHOOPWHOOP!

You guys, sometimes you just get a sign.

So I told him the world's worst-kept secret, the thing that I am certain everyone knows but most people don't give much thought to and that I rarely voice, even to Derek. "I don't want to do this."

It was Sue, and as my heart flipped crazily around my chest like a spastic flea, she asked me why I wanted to get a Yellow Fever vaccination

And then my BP dropped to 62/16. It was so low that they didn't even believe their own equipment and brought in a Doppler device that sounded like one of those stupidly loud squawking spirit box things they use on the TV show "Ghost Adventures."

As I was lying there all unassuming and casual-like, one of these masked people approached me and said something like “Okay, chief, you’re gonna need to pull your pants down to your knees.” And yes, I’m pretty sure she said “chief.”

And now... well, now I'm being asked to take this giant leap. And you guys, it's fucking terrifying. And I'm pissed. And I'm really, really sad. I don't share it much here, but this is unbelievably hard and I don't want anything to do with any of it.

"Hi Andrea, this is Sue. Everything is looking good. 
<uncomfortable pause>
But… you showed up positive for methamphetamines."

Wait, WHAT?

Sue: I am planning on listing you tomorrow, does that work for you?

Andrea: OMG, that's kind of a big deal. I wanted to be coy and say "it's just an honor to be nominated." But, WOW.