Depression

The winter cold can loom down on people and give people the feeling that they may never see a summer's sun again. In Wisconsin, this cold can eat through the skin so fast that you don't know what happened - until, that is, your hand is swollen, bruised, and feeling like it is on fire. Did it start with the hand? I don't think so. That is not to say that I am in any sort of depressive state but with a couple of my friends in the hospital, fighting for their lives after being given a second chance at life, you wonder what tomorrow will bring.

Only days ago, I had created a new organ donation awareness design to sell in my Angel Cove store. I had sent an email to a lung transplant support group that I have been with for what seems to be decades, asking for their thoughts on the design. Most loved it but, of course, there is always one:

Shannon,
This design could go either way. It is catchy, but I still like
your first design with all the colors. That really caught attention.
Love,
Shana

Yep, I had asked for honest feedback and she gave it to me - as always. Tonight though, her thoughts are not on my designs but on being in the hospital for the third time this year. Shana and her husband Kurt are people that I met online years ago and instantly there was a bond between Shana and I. Don't get me wrong, we don't email each other every day - only on the days that matter most. That is what a true friend is - the person that comes in when the world has gone out. And tonight my friend is in a hospital room at the University of PA, fighting a clog in her lungs. (sigh) Ironically, her husband is sharing a seat that the rest of us caregivers have sat in too many times. The chair is lumpy and smells like ammonia - the hospital walls are bare - and the view is less than desirable.

It is times like these that I not only thank the good Lord for the blessings of health for my husband but that I fall into a small pit that was dug for me some time ago. You pray for the best and know that the pit is small but it can easily open up into a gaping hole that leads straight to the depths of hell. My stomach turns as I type this - I know that my husband can so easily be healthy one day and sick the next. What then? Should we live with our bags packed and ready to go to the hospital at any given moment? Alas, that would not be living. But the pit is nagging me - letting me know it exists - even during my deepest of prayers for my friend Shana. Yes, my friends, life is what you make of it and we have made a good life for ourselves. It is the unknown that scares me and with a terminal illness or an organ transplant, the unknown is always there and exists in great numbers. Being able to see past it takes a strength beyond what is conceivable to most - a strength that few have.

Please join me in praying for the health and strength of my sweet friend and her husband, as well as those out there that we may never know or meet.

~Shan
http://www.angelcove.us