Sunday, August 19, 2018

Thirty, Flirty, and Thriving


It's eleven at night, and tears took me while I was brushing my teeth. I don't know why it was that moment that it suddenly hit me, the realization sinking deep into my bones, tingling on my skin—but right then, I felt overwhelmed with the magnitude of what tomorrow means for me.

 Tomorrow is my birthday—my thirtieth birthday.

 Seventeen years ago, I first read the phrase "average life expectancy" connected with cystic fibrosis. At the time, the life expectancy was 34. It was an enormous thing to grapple with as a new teenager; my thirties seemed so old, so far away, and yet the idea of not living past them felt claustrophobic and, at times, crippling.

 And yet here I am, on the cusp of this new decade, only a little bit worse for the wear—ready to tackle many, many more years to come.

 When I was six months old, my parents were told that I wouldn't live to turn twenty. Sometimes, the last decade of my life feels almost decadent, like a truffle center, unexpected and delicious.

 And here I am, half again as old as that original prognosis.

 I try not to think often about CF and life expectancy. I have enormous anxiety about the future, and compensate by largely pretending it doesn't exist more than two or three months out. But on birthdays, the full weight of that reality hits me a little differently—not as clutching, clawing anxiety for what I might someday lose, but as soul-deep, heart-pausing gratitude for what I've had.

 I don't know what the future will bring. My disease is still unpredictable, still progressive, still incurable. And yet, on this birthday eve, feeling the gratitude for that extra decade warm in my throat, I feel ready to face the future—thirty, thirty-four, and beyond.

7 comments:

  1. Thank God, you're here, Cindy. That's all I could think when I saw this post. I don't even know you that well, and that's my first thought. You are a gift and a light. I'm so sorry that even has to be a thought for you. But you make this world better every day by being in it. What a hard road you walk. I'm so glad to celebrate this with you today!

    ReplyDelete
  2. I'm with Heather. My reaction to this entire post was gratitude and overwhelming joy that you are here, that you are my friend, that the doctors were wrong, because we didn't even meet until after 20.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Right?! So much of my life has happened after 20! My life would NOT be the same without you!

      Delete
  3. I don't know if you realize just how much joy and light and thoughtfulness you bring to the world. I'm so grateful to know you.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Are you sure you're not describing yourself here?!? 😘

      Delete
  4. Hi Cindy - This is Clark Larsen, although you see Michelle's picture. I know I am one of many who have offered prayers on your behalf that you would reach this important day in your life. I know that, on more than one occasion, I have written your name on the prayer roll in the temple. It's difficult to put into words how truly grateful I am for your friendship. You have truly blessed my life and for that I will forever grateful. I echo Rebecca's words as well, Cindy. When I get my novel e-published later this year, I will definitely be including you in the acknowledgements. (I promise I'll let you read my acknowledgement first) Just finished reading Chapter One of Watermelons today and so, far I love it, love it, love it. Hugs to you always Cindy. Love you!

    ReplyDelete