On a recent trip into NYC for my ICD interrogation, my wife and I took a train down town to see the 9/11 memorial. We have not been there since the buildings fell. Prior to the attacks we were often in the North Tower as my brother had his office on the 104th floor. He was in the WTC on the day of the attacks and made it out okay. At the time of the attacks he was in one of the other buildings. It has just been hard to go there. Walking around the pools where the buildings once stood, I could not help but think how blessed my family is that my brother’s name is not one of the almost 3,000 names carved into the metal bordering each pool of the people who lost their lives on that day.
On the way down we decided to get off the subway at the Brooklyn Bridge stop as we were early for our reserved time at the memorial. I never walked in that area before, so we decided to walk over the Brooklyn Bridge. It’s amazing that you can live in the proximity of a city for 25 years, be in it multiple times, but yet still miss doing so much.
It is the middle of April and the temperature was 90F, and people were out in throngs, dressed in shorts and tees! What’s up with this weather? Despite the heat, and the exhaust fumes from the vehicles (it was windy, so I felt no ill effects), I managed to walk to about mid way on the bridge, most of which is an incline, all without my oxygen which I forgot to take with me that morning.
We had to turn back so we could get down to the memorial in time for our reservation, but we decided to walk and not take the train the few blocks to the next stop.
Along the way, there is a park outside of city hall that had all of its tulips in full bloom. Such a gorgeous sight in the middle of the hot and bustling city.
I was pretty proud of myself of how much waking I was able to do without my oxygen on a hot April day (I know, April and hot don’t seem to go together!). When you are able to do small accomplishments, it is so much
better to be grateful and appreciative of those small things you can do, rather than harp on all that you can no longer do now. Life has changed. Get over it. Try to accept it and move on. A little
slower maybe, but at least you can. Add a smile to that, and it makes it even easier, more enjoyable.
When you have some conditions that are somewhat debilitating, it’s good to not live in those moments of being debilitated. Sitting at a computer researching your illness and reading everything about your illness is all well and good, but then you begin to start living for the disease. The obsession of searching for a cure, a remedy, some sort of relief, eventually stops you from living for your self.
Take a break from your illness, get up, get out and live. There is so much out there to see and do other than trying to find answers all day. Sometimes you just need to get out and cross that bridge, even if it is just your threshold.