Today marks the one year anniversary of my diagnosis with lymphangioleiomyomatosis. I’ve come a long way since this posting last year, but I think Thanksgiving is a good reminder to be grateful for every last breath…
When I was a little girl, I had a recurring dream that a beautiful woman with dark hair smiled benevolently down at me.
“Would you like to see your life?” She asked. “How you live, and how you die?”
I can be a bit on the impatient side. I’ve always struggled with the urge to read the last page of the book first, so I let the woman take me by the hand. She led me into an ornate theater. Twin angels stood on either side of red curtains.
“Just say the word,” she waved toward the angels, “and they will open your life for you.”
As I sat in my velvet seat, I began to have my doubts. I was curious, but to lose the anticipation of Christmas mornings and new school years might be a terrible price to pay for having it handed over upfront. Eager as I’ve…
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