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October 25, 2022

October 25. 10pm. Thoughts.

I’ve never felt so vulnerable. So exposed, and in so much pain.

Having a date for transplant has shaken me.

I worry the days are blurring together—I KNOW the days are blurring together, because I can’t remember what I did on Sunday. There’s leaves, there’s the FedEx guy, asking me to sign for insulin; there’s nursery school pickups and toddler class with our friends. I’m broken, completely devastated. I am still in motion. I am still going.

But I’m heartbroken too. Terrified I am living my last days in a blur of pain meds and conflict. I watch Leo pick out pumpkins on our walks, God I love these kids so much, they’re my salvation…but it hurts to be alive.

And yet: my dog encourages me to hit the pavement; I’m reading a new book every 4 days; I’m taking vitamins for the first time in years.

I am signing up for a new life, but as of now? I am holding on for dear life.

Broken. Broken. Broken.

And yet...

I say this all the time but I really fucking mean it, more than ever:

Keep going. Keep going. Keep going.

I promise I will too.

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