MIracles.

When I boarded the plane... I didn't know if I'd make it.
By the time I arrived in Tampa, the doctors were "cautiously optimistic".
Still they reminded us that things were minute to minute.

But my uncle is a man with a will to live.
He's a man willing to fight to live, no matter how painful, frightening or overwhelming.
Every time the doctors would come out we'd get little, tiny miracles of improvement.

They explained how the human body knows to do everything in it's power to protect the brain, the heart and the lungs.
It will shut down everything else (from organs to extremities) to protect those 3 vital things.

Again, my mind wanders to my strange thoughts and I virtually punch myself for that last visit to the smoking area outside. I'm intentionally weakening one of the 3 most important organs in my body.

But he started to improve.
We were reminded by doctor after doctor that this is a marathon, not a sprint. It will take time.

It's gut wrenching to watch how different family members react to this.
Some stop talking all together.
Some see it with doomsday eyes, waiting for the bad news that surely must come.
Some refuse to relinquish their optimism, celebrating every little victory as if it was an Olympic gold medal.
All of us are suddenly more aware of our own mortality, and how precious life really is.

And he continued to improve.

And on the day I left, he began to breathe on his own.
Because miracles do happen.
And when you value life and love life, anything is possible.

And I promised myself, on the long flight back to the West Coast, that I will value life. I'll value it every minute. I'll love it and appreciate it and fight for it. Because when faced with a situation like my uncle was faced with, you have 2 choices. You fight to live or you give up. And to fight you have to have something to fight for.

When my husband and my son ran to greet me at the airport and smothered my with their arms and their kisses, I knew it.
I have everything to fight for.