I’m forty.
I wasn’t supposed to be forty. This was a birthday I was never supposed to see.
When I was diagnosed with CF, the average life expectancy was mid-thirties. Then I almost died at nineteen.
If my organ donor, Suzanne, hadn’t made the decision to donate her organs, I’d have died at twenty-three.
But she did. And seventeen years later, I’m forty.
FORTY.
Unlike a lot of people, I don’t dread my birthdays. I celebrate them with full vigor, and this one, especially, was celebrated to the hilt.
My door was decorated by my brother Bryan and my sister-in-law, Sarah.
They also sent me a truly stupendous bouquet of flowers.
That night, my parents hosted a party for me at a local restaurant. We had a private room!
I did the name cards!
(Sarris chocolate is my favorite chocolate in life. It’s a Pittsburgh-based chocolate company and I’ve been eating it since I’ve been old enough to have teeth. My grandma used to have little bowls of their foil wrapped Easter egg chocolates in her house and I loved to eat them. So I thought they’d be a sweet treat for our guests!)
Some of my favorite people were there…..
Amilia came all the way from Illinois for the party!
Tiffany and Bill were there! (Alice was with her grandparents.)
Mary was there!
If you’re read Living Memento Mori, then you know about Rita, one of my favorite nurses—she was at the party!
And my brother and SIL were there too!
It was a fabulous party—it went on for four hours, which didn’t seem quite possible.
It was, simply, way too much fun.
Suzanne made all of this possible. She makes my writing this possible.
If you’re not an organ donor, please consider it. You can sign up online here.