I had a dream on Christmas Eve:
I dreamed someone asked me what it was like to have Cystic Fibrosis.
I told them to think of a house- we measure its grander by its tall ceilings and spacious rooms.
Men awaken in the morning to find the ceiling right were it was when they closed their eyes and the walls unchanged from the night before. They move, laugh and eat.. not thinking of who or what holds the weight of the roof off their heads and protects them. Now welcome to my house… It’s comfortable, but thick with memories and accomplishments. The ceilings are not so high as they used to be and it is I who hold the roof up. At the beginning of each day I awaken to find the room is smaller and I push back all the walls. Some days it’s hard to get up with all the weight on my chest. I push it back, enough to stand and begin the fight to reclaim what i had the day before. Where was that wall again? I suppose this will do, That ceiling is closing in on me all day until i do another treatment at night to buy myself some breathing room. Iv’e become very good at pushing things away. The people I keep posted around the outside of my house help me know where i need to push the walls to. They remind me of the standard I’ve set for myself. Once upon a time it was my mother who held the roof off my chest as I slept. Before I knew it could crush me I was protected from its weight. Before I knew to thank her I was grown up. I learned I had to push to live. It was that example that made me wild, it made me fight.
I’ll take that breath at any cost- to honor the back that held up a house.
Love you Mom- JT