I realized within the first hour after waking up following the liver transplant last month that a fog had been lifted. That, no matter how well I had thought I felt emotionally and cognitively, I was nowhere near where I was now. I was thinking in real time.
I had not felt this way in years, at least a decade, perhaps two, and it was wonderful. I remembered that Jonathan had encouraged me to keep a running journal of the journey from the time I was diagnosed with cancer, who came to be called my Teacher, up to this time and through recovery. I had done this, it was not much, perhaps 40 typed pages, but now I was more than ready to flesh it out.
So being that I am still in recovery from the transplant and as of yet can not even drive my own car, I am splitting my time fairly equally between online CEUs in various areas of Peer Recovery Support to stay fresh, researching and applying for positions at a very select group of practices/centers/groups that are hiring, and piecing together all those journal entries into a small book form.
The reason for the book is not to brag about how difficult the process was to go through, to strike it rich and wind up on Opra (though that would be cool, the former that is, though I could be convinced to go on Opra, I am easy), but rather some pages for someone who is currently or about to be wearing the same shoes I did for so many years. It is easy to want to give up when you are in a place of hopelessness and despair, but you can't. I didn't, and I did not have any rah rah story to help me along. Mine will not be a rah rah story, but it will be a story of victory, about not giving up, and about turning adversity into opportunity.
I am not even sure who I am talking to here these days. I no longer have a group since we no longer are associated with an Athens area practice. Twelve-step programs rule here. I have a couple of people, or clients as they used to be called, but now they call to check on how I am doing after the surgery. That's nice.
Perhaps I am writing this to my next group, or my next individual person I will be meeting in some state more than 1,000 miles from here. Now you can know a little bit about that guy sitting across the room from you. Run! :-)