At a loss for a short description

It's true. More than any other person, he's looked out for me over the past few years. He saved my life at least twice, and I have no idea what I'll do without him. After all, he's the first person I've ever worked with on anything whose advice I almost always take.

Moving on is a good thing; normal, you know? I guess the level of fear I have of doing so is a sign that I am not quite ready. Every time I have tried to move on something has happened.

So now that I feel better and stronger I have little choice but to wait for the proverbial other shoe. In the mean time, I do laundry, take the trash out to the curb, maybe cook some dinner. It doesn't sound like much to you, but to me these chores are major victories.

I still have a hard time believing that I am 100% better and ready to go out there in the world and function because this "I feel great!" thing has happened so many times before only to vanish in a matter of hours. I could contract any number of life-threatening infections, or I could up and try to reject the kidney. I could probably manage to try to reject the pancreas. There are still parts of me held together with temporary measures and a couple of issues that remain unresolved.

So I am not breathing easy quite yet even though everybody tells me how great I look these days. Great. That's the word they all use. I guess they've all seen me looking pretty bad.

before - after