keeping up

I am starting to wear thin. My good days are slowly being overtaken by my bad. 
DeCoster was right (Deliver My Liver) when he wrote back to me almost a year ago and said, "I hope you are able to keep your wit and perspective through the times coming."

Even before I understood exactly what he was talking about, I had an idea that my life was going to change immensely. I just didn't know how much until months later.

I didn't know that walking from over there to here would be so much of a chore, or that bending down to pick up something would be so demanding. I didn't know that my legs would go numb from sitting too long if I didn't move or that I would experience a tingling sensation in my circulation as it traveled from one limb to another stretching all the way out into my fingertips. I didn't know that a pounding heart and gasping breath would leave me immobile on those rare occasions when I wanted to run, play, swing.

Later when my body began to change I would quietly turn and study the mirror. That's new. That's new. and, What the hell is that? Those things became my new mantra.

Now I just take cursory looks and tell myself that one day this will all be over. One day I will see my waistline without having to look in the mirror. I will be able to bend and tie my shoes. One day I will be able to take a flight of stairs without stopping for a breather. One day maybe I won't need promethazine or zolpidem or beta blockers. One day I might sleep normally and wake up with the rest of the world.

For now all I can do is imagine what comes next. Will I get confused? Tangled? Distraught? Most assuredly. Already I am.

My friends say, "Hang in there, buddy."

I say, "I am."

It is strange to be in this place. Watching it all fall apart. Once in a while I have to absorb it. Process it. Dwell on what comes next. 
And that is okay.
That is okay.