
Cystic Gal officially issues the following notice to readers regarding her earlier post, "Cleveland Clinic Rocked," to further clarify her statement and stance that the place was indeed, rock-tastic. Initial statement, and clarification, below. Thanks!
"8. Doctor in charge of my care gave me a hug and agreed that I am not in a "tender time of my life," as recent events have dictated. (She was like, "It's not a tender time, you're dying!" and I was actually relieved at her candor. I will write more on this issue in later posts.)"*
*NOTES, but not apologies: When the doc said this, in the context of the conversation, it was both appropriate and a relief. I mean, we had already looked at my horrazzizable CT, discussed my case (lungs=bad! body=good! transplant=hope for soon!) and really, anyone active on the list is indeed on there because it is believed they would not survive otherwise. The reason her comment was a relief was that I received a recent correspondence that was "so very sorry for me" at this "very tender time in [my] life," which I thought was disgusting in context of its greater message (that I will not disclose) because I don't think of being pre-tx as a tender time. I think of it as a fight to live. I'm fighting for my life here, and giving up a lot, gaining a lot in the process. It is a biting, kicking, scratching (then sleeping) time of my life, but it is not "tender," like a piece of meat, or a baby bunny. Though, I would make a really cute baby bunny. ;)
Feel free to email me if you want to know more ;)