Funny, I came up with this topic as I was shovelling–I felt grateful for the half-foot of snow. Grateful that I could deal with it.  As a belated Christmas gift, I decided to do my neighbour’s sidewalks as well. And just for good measure, I shovelled from my front gate to back gate and a bit in the alley. Plus my deck and some paths for my dogs. I was winded when I finished, but I had an idea for a post. Totally worth it.

Tell Me, Rach, Are There Benefits to Having One Lung?

Okay, so nobody’s ever asked it like that, but a lot of people have asked me what it’s like to have just one lung. Truthfully, I don’t really think about it very often anymore. I guess it’s sort of like having your left arm amputated when you’re right-handed—well, at least what I imagine that might be like.

1. As with all handicaps, there is an adjustment period.

When I had my lung removed, I had been sick for a while. My whole body was sick, and I didn’t react well to the anesthetics. I’d say five years in, I started to recover. Ten years in I was just wheezy and getting back into shape. It’s been almost 17 years, and now I’m forgetting to be grateful. I’m out of shape again, still wheezy, but working on it. I don’t know any different and most people don’t believe me when I say I am a one-lunger.

The lung I have is healthy, though sensitive. I do everything everyone else does. My face might turn a deeper shade of crimson, but it might anyway. Sometimes I wonder why I don’t try to get other people to do my physical work because of my lung—I’m too much like my mother, I guess.

2. It Makes Me interesting —fodder for writing & partIes

I tend to be shy, but once I’m comfortable, the stories flow. When I’m trying to impress new potential friends or admirers (a.k.a. students or people way more important that me) I pull out my best weapon, namely my-story-of-the-lung. The story has many flavours, and I play up different faucets, depending on who is listening. If I recognize someone in the crowd who has heard the story, I try to focus on a something new. I think it’s helped shape my story-telling skills.

My story usually steals the show. Actually, I’m making this all up, but I should use my story as a weapon to gather fans. I come up with the best ideas at the most unexpected times.

3. It makes me unique.

Are you a one-lunger? I didn’t think so. Once in a while, I get an “Oh, yeah. My dad was born with only one lung” or “My grandma survived lung cancer too!” I figure the one-lungedness should keep me unique until I finish and publish one of the books I am writing. It sort of makes me memorable—especially when I throw in my Korean name. You can read the story I’ve linked to find out what that name is. Tricky, aren’t I?

4. I’m eligible for a nifty handicap parking sticker

I’d never thought of my lunglessness as a disability, but then a friend told me I probably qualify for one of those passes that let you park in those spots near the door. It’s tempting in the winter. See, I forgot to mention that I have a lot of trouble breathing in wind or cold air. It literally takes my breath away—it leaves me breathless. I should write about that before I forget.

So, some day I will probably get a handicap permit. But not until I really need one. For now, I will keep being stubborn like my mother and take the hard road. Just because that’s what we do, right Mom?

5. It’s just part of my story. I Am grateful for aging

All in all, I don’t feel sorry for myself. Sometimes I look back at my 25-year-old self—I mean who gets a call on her 25th birthday that informs her she has lung cancer? Me. That’s who. These things happen to me. Needless to say, when I turned 40, and my friends were crying because I wasn’t young anymore, I was crying for joy. Every year I shake my fist at the gods and feel like I’ve made it through another test.

Sure, I would maybe have an entirely different life right now, but that’s the point. It wouldn’t be this life. For example, maybe I would have run a marathon, but probably not. I never liked running in the first place. Plus, it made me appreciate my son, Jesse, more. If it weren’t for him, I would never have survived in the first place. He might understand that I owe him my life.

I know that my story has inspired and motivated people not to let excuses stand in the way of their successes. Although it sounds strange, I wouldn’t change it for anything.

Now, ask yourself how you can be grateful for something you’ve lost along the way. How can you turn loss into an advantage?

Is there anything you want to ask? Comments? I’m here for you ☺