Let me be abundantly clear. This blog is not for you. The impetus for its existence, perhaps to your surprise, in fact stems not mainly from sheer boredom or pressure to accomplish something menial during an otherwise seemingly circuitous period of waiting.
In scouring the algorithmic archive for any and every millennial's account of their own wait for cardiac transplant I came up irritating short. Isn't ours the generation where we over-share and under filter, simultaneously engrossing followers while un-individuating ourselves by said act? Is that what I'm doing here, joining the throngs of others who "get diagnosed" and suddenly feel they have some entitlement to share? I certainly hope not, but again, this blog is not for you, so, additionally, I don't care.
But I digress. I could not find anything substantial on the internet that really embodied my out-of-body experience. I felt pulled between (pre)scripted writings of medical professionals and the neon pink streams of comic-sans consciousness of perpetual downers I couldn't relate to.
And so, between the clinical antisepticness of AMA approved copy and lack of memoir at all relatable to my experience, it became apparent that I would need to write it myself.
However, that couldn't be the only reason.
I didn't want a blow-by-blow account of what each doctor's appointment and each blood-draw meant. I didn't want jargon to overpower rhetoric, and I certainly didn't want it to feel like a chore.
I want an outlet for the energy that my body can no longer turn into movement. I want a place to share honestly, really honestly, without feeling critique, professional or personal. A place to throw up images from vacations past as often or little as I feel. A place to comment on the nuances of film, theatre, music, and life that I often mumble to myself mid-experience, but doesn't always make it into the auditory canal of those next to me. A place for review and reflection and, eventually, recovery.
So, dear reader, though this blog is not for you, here's what it is for.
It is for mindfullness and mindlessness, equally divided by music and images and stories. It is for keeping track of the mundane and the spectacular, the notable simply because it was noted. It is for the next young person who finds themselves incredibly supported through this process while also going through it entirely alone. It is a small map by which to guide their start and, hopefully, navigate the questions and concerns that arise in the moment after the appointment ends or the head hits the pillow. It is for me and it is for them. And, if you read with intention, it may lend itself to you.