7 January 2013
A walk was all it took. A simple walk outside, into a small patch of field about a minute away. After two months of being in the hospital, you'd think it'd be okay to step outside, to walk, to run even.
But I think it was the running that ended it all.
"She's going to be fine," the doctors all said. "Fit as a fiddle, she'll be." Oh, how wrong they were. This disease never gave in, it stayed and wreaked it havoc suddenly and without mercy.
I was chasing a butterfly, for Christ's sake. A butterfly. How much more carefree could you be? How much more of a bad time could it be for the disease to suddenly take over me, to bring to my knees, to knock me right down to the ground, to keep me there, still, unmoving, breathless.
Pulmonary Hypertension • Opuss № I