When it gets hard, a memory takes me through.

That whole thing with the potential outcome of that procedure has seriously scared the bageebies out of me. I think I've made it pretty clear to those who would have to make the decision, but I prefer a DNR (do not resuscitate). I don't want to live by machine. So, that could have easily been the end of the road for this girl. Granted, the procedure doesn't look like it's going to happen now (thank GOD), but just the possibility that this current situation could get worse really freaks me out. I'm holding onto my fight with the hope and belief--however small it feels sometimes--that I am GOING to get better. That some day, I can look back on these days and give myself the comfort of knowing that it has passed.

There is one image that I'm holding onto, and it's really been the only thing that makes me believe. By now, I'm sure that you know that I have a lot of dreams (or some would say that I just remember more of them than most people). When I was rediagnosed in 2005 (before the most recent transplant), I was having a hard time moving forward mentally. I remember praying for some sign so that I would know or have some idea how it would all go over. I don't remember if that was that night or a few nights later, but I had a dream in which Ralph and I were walking, holding hands. We were, sort of, window shopping in a mall. As we turned a corner, I saw that I was 5 months pregnant. It felt so real. I woke up crying and happy. That image, that future memory, that sense of happiness is what I hold onto. When everything seems like such a struggle, that's what gets me up, makes me eat when I'm not hungry, makes me keep trying to get stronger daily.