precious air
Last Sunday I celebrated my great niece’s 1 year birthday at the beach. My niece’s husband has a large extended family and every summer they stay at their time share resort situated above where we settled for the party. It was a beautiful warm day with blue skies. The ocean was a crystal clear light green color with crashing waves. The water was refreshing and cool on my hot feet. But before I could settle in I had to go to the bathroom. The only one around was in one of the rooms the family stayed in straight up from the beach. But there were so many steps to navigate from the beach just to get to the street level. I felt like a toddler looking up at a ladder of cement steps reaching to the sky.
Because I have scleroderma from the donor transplant, walking up hills and going up stairs is challenging. My airways are compromised and some of the soft tissue in my body has hardened. I held onto the rail and tried to keep up the pace with my sister-in-law and my niece’s husband. Steps were never a problem before I had cancer. I could bound up flights of steps and often preferred the exercise over riding in an elevator. But now each step felt like three steps as my thighs got heavier and stiffened. My breath shortened as if I’d reached the elevation of a mountaintop. I tried to control my legs so they didn’t buckle and pushed out air to maximize each exhale.
After we hit the street, there were more steps to get onto the property. I smiled and joked when I looked up but when I looked down I squeezed back the tears and gritted my teeth.
I don’t look like someone who struggles to breathe while walking up stairs or hiking uphill. Sure I could work out more and practice breathing, but that only prevents the scleroderma from progressing. Some damage is irreversible.
The exertion from the stairs and later on gasping for breath battling those ocean waves proved less difficult than keeping that smile and focusing on the more joyful moments of that day. I was determined to remain good natured and grateful.
Watching my other great nieces and nephews toddle around bursting with energy while playing in the waves, building sandcastles and eating snacks with little crusts of sand was endearing. In contrast, the older cousins on my niece’s husband’s side of the family were diving and jumping and riding the waves with competitive gusto. Oh how fast children grow up, I mused.
They all took in the air-as much as their lungs could hold and exhaled without struggle; their limbs coordinating with each small or large movement without a conscious thought.
I could see all the precious air that swirled around and generously entered and exited each body, except mine. I have limitations that are hard to accept. But when I had to slow down and find that elusive breath I saw the movements around me blur into a cacophony of color and action amidst the sweet salty warm air.
I witnessed the magical dance of bodies mixing with blue sky, green water, and white sand, and the invisible air that sustains life in all of us.
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For musical inspiration, here is a link to a ballad sung by Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam, from their 2009 album “Backspacer.” The song is called “Just Breathe”.