In denial

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=czR2bHg_4c8&playnext=1&list=PL162A86D5D846780D&index=22

Denial. Such a small word with a large meaning.

My disease received its official name in August 2005. I read numerous entries on the Net. Most information was outdated by at least five years. Talk about gloom and doom. Somehow I convinced myself that I did not feel that bad. Thus began my friendship with denial.

Getting more accurate information only served to shore up my denial. I was not on Flolan so I must not have a bad case of PH. Picking up more than 10 pounds this once cannot hurt. This cannula bothers my nose, I do not need the o2 right now.

What does chest pain mean? I am not in pain, therefore I do not have chest pain. Cyanosis? My lips and nose are blue? Really?

A certain amount of denial keeps us from losing our minds with worry. I have PH. No cure. Medicines sustain me; eventually they cease to work. Denial comes into play, otherwise I might as well curl up and die now.

Am I angry? No. Am I sad? Often, though not so much for myself as for others who have the burden of a chronic, fatal disease. Those who are young. Those who are brilliiant. Those who never know anything else.

Did I squander my life? All the choices belong to me. I own them whether I admit they are mine or not. Denial works for naught here.

I can pretend (or deny) all I want, but the truth always wins.

Miss you, Dude.

Later.