The Best Relationship Tips

The Meeting

11 May 2020

“I’m right here. I got you. What do you need from me?” It was a time filled with the uncertainty of death combined with the hope of the future.

The gatekeeper knew me well. There was always a reason I couldn’t get past him; but to my surprise, the buyer finally agreed to an appointment. My heart quickened as the meeting approached. Trained to hide my nervousness, my posture displayed confidence; but it all faltered as my eyes met hers. The instant connection made me stammer through the greeting I had spoken hundreds of times. She tripped on her introductory words, as well, with a voice that resonated in my soul. I knew that my feelings were mirrored.

After the appointment, there was a comfort in resuming my normal day. I tried to forget the intense emotions that I had denied ever wanting to feel again. I felt crazy having my thoughts consumed by the person I had just met. I decided that I needed to test the waters. I returned the next day, chatting up the gatekeeper as I had many times before. I expected the same routine of being denied access; however, she agreed to see me immediately. I walked in, chills sliding through my being, just as real as the day before. The meeting changed every aspect of my life.

My ever-increasing visits transitioned to encounters outside of work. The cliché of hotel rooms, parks, and restaurant booths became our new existence. I was diagnosed only a few months into our relationship, a moment that I hesitantly shared. The strength that she radiated melted away any insecurity I had ever felt that she couldn’t handle the next chapter of our lives.

Our paths gradually merged. Our reality became job losses, facing the tragic self-harm and recovery of a daughter, the drug addiction and alienation of a son, and the worsening of a terminal illness. I had resigned myself to the fact that my disease would eventually take my life, but she never gave in to that fear. She simply let me exist, needing a thick skin to deal with my darkness. Shutting myself off from the eventuality of my own death occasionally caused me to deny the joy that life had to offer. We created small rituals to reconnect and simply be in one another’s presence. Sitting next to each other watching movies, my head resting on her shoulder and our arms entwined was a favorite. It somehow drained all responsibilities and took us on new adventures together.

Physically, I progressed to the point that I struggled with two oxygen tanks when leaving the house. I insisted I could do it myself, but she would not allow it. When she helped too much, it irritated me. When she stepped back, it irritated me. Beach trips were the best and worst. My stubbornness demanded I carry my share of equipment; however, dragging umbrellas and beach chairs across unforgiving sand was sometimes more than my waning lungs could handle. Despite the strain I put on my body, sitting next to her with waves lapping our feet was all worth it. Her smile said we were two young lovers letting the warmth of the sun being them serenity. One of the best ways we coped with our stress was to just drive. We found peace in putting our hair up, putting the top down, and holding hands while the clouds chased us with no destination in mind.

I wanted my optimism to be an inspiration to others, but everyone except her saw that side. She logged hundreds of hours in the car and the waiting room through all the testing necessary to get on the transplant list. It was a thrill when we were notified that I met all the criteria. Only 10 days waiting, and the phone rang in the middle of the night. We lay in bed listening to the doctor tell us it was time to drive to the hospital. Lungs are the riskiest transplant surgery, while being accompanied by the lowest survival rate. The following years are a gift that need lived even if they are filled with many doctors, hospital stays, and uncertainty. The surgery went smoothly but was followed by weeks of pain and confusion. I tried to hide it, but she knew me well.

The discomfort gradually subsided as my body began to heal. During a particularly arduous day, I was trying desperately to smile bravely with each step. I was deeply aware of my breathing, appreciating the beautiful gift of life I was given. As I stood from the wheelchair and faltered, she grabbed my arm:

“I’m right here. I got you. What do you need from me?” And my soul smiled, knowing that no matter what, she would always be there.

Photo by Alex Iby on Unsplash

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Shawna L Fetterolf

I worked in sales for 20 years, learning the positive aspects of people and how to learn from their experiences. I then turned my passion for insightfulness and delving into how human nature works into writing. I have written blogs, Ebooks, articles, and more for various platforms and loved every second of it. I am passionate about what I do, and it shows in the dedication I have with respect to others' time and expectations. I was diagnosed with a terminal illness, pulmonary fibrosis, at the age of 42 and traded that disease for a second chance at life with a lung transplant. I find joy in the raising of and the connection I have with my daughter. Discovering how others have grown through the trials of their lives, whether physical or mental, gives me insight into the connectedness of all of us. I love to discover new and deeper connections with myself and those around me with the best conversations being those about personal growth and development.