My Second Life

If you ask me what one of the most important things in life is, I will tell you that at the top of the list is keeping in touch with the “good” people throughout our lives. I’m one who truly believes that every single person we come into contact with, from our 5th grade teacher, to an ex love, to the cashier at the grocery store, has been introduced to us for some reason or another. I like to think it’s for learning experiences, but whatever the reason, we connect with every individual differently. If you’re lucky, like me, you meet people along the way that stand out on a different level among all others. These people aren’t common and sometimes they’re not meant to stay, however, permanent or temporary, they refresh our souls, they lift our spirits, they make us think in different ways and feel such powerful energy — much deeper than what’s felt on the surface daily. These are the people you need to keep in your life at all costs – whether it’s a phone call every few months, a lunch once a year, grabbing coffee, a letter to let them know their being thought of – these actions are crucial. Which brings me to Monday’s coffee date with Rosemary, formally known to me as Ms. Goodwin, my 5th grade teacher. We mutually decided now that I’m 28 (she taught me when I was 11) that it’s OK to use her first name. (Going to take some getting used to)

Rosemary is one of the “good” people. The type of person so genuinely good that she’s almost naïve to the daily downers in this world that so easily steal our joy. I get together with her maybe once a year. It’s refreshing for the both of us. We meet for coffee and talk for hours… but what we talk about is the real key to what I want to get across through this blog post. I feel as though Rosemary and I talk about this life, spirituality and faith on a level that only few actually understand. We engage so deeply in the power of the human spirit that I actually used to be self-conscience that people would hear us at a nearby table and seriously think we were nuts. I don’t feel that way anymore. In fact, I feel privileged to feel emotion so deeply. I actually kind of feel sad for those who don’t quite understand how much potential the human spirit truly has. I look at each one of us as having this tiny flame inside our belly and unfortunately some people live their life never knowing the excitement this world really has to offer. On our normal, day-to-day routine, that flame burns low and slow – lit, but just enough to keep us fueled for that day. Here’s the way I imagine it visually: sometimes, something happens like hearing good news, a girls night out, your team wins the Superbowl or that cute guy in your college English class starts a conversation with you. Things like that cause a “breeze” and if only for a moment, our flame brightens.

This is something I’ve imagined and felt for as long as I can remember, but especially now after my second chance at life: the need to fuel that fire – and the “good” people that I’m talking about in our lives help us to do just that. Surround yourself with them 💛

I want to tell you a little bit about my conversation with Rosemary because we have a very similar outlook on this flame image, which is the real topic of this specific blog. The ways to fuel the fire inside ourselves are endless. As human beings, regardless of religious belief, I wholeheartedly believe we are all spiritual creatures with the need to feel alive — there is nothing ordinary about being a spiritual being. So, why live an ordinary life? We are extraordinary beings. Rosemary and I talked about the way so many people live with such little passion, so accepting of the “ordinary” and mundane.

I have a statement I started using after I received my gift of new lungs: my gift of a new life. I say “when it does come my time to leave this earth and I stand before God in the kingdom of heaven, I want to stand before him with NOTHING AT ALL LEFT INSIDE ME WHATSOEVER. I mean that. I want to have used every single ounce of love, passion, excitement, kindness, service, everything. I want to have used it all down to the very last drop – everything I’ve been given — my purpose, my service, TAKE IT ALL here on this earth. Only then will I be ready to leave.”

I wish that way of life upon all people.

I truly believe we have this fire inside all of us waiting and wanting to be set ablaze.

– and it should be, in some way, EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. I know this because I’ve felt it. I’ve found ways throughout my entire life to keep this fire burning. There are things, people, places, that strike us all differently but that have the power to strengthen our fire.

These are the things I talk about with Rosemary. This is why we make it a priority to keep in touch. And here’s why it’s so important…

I know I talk about it a lot, but I said earlier, some people in this world cross our paths to teach us things. I don’t believe I went through all that I have been through to keep it quiet. When I was told (four years ago) that I had only weeks left to live, I was surprised at my initial thoughts. Instead of thinking of the time that I had left, I started thinking of the time that I had already spent. Instead of wishing I had done more, experienced more, loved more — I was proud. I had spent so much time leading up to the end of my life that I worked to create a life of fullness and service that I was proud of. This included keeping in touch with all the people throughout my life that had changed me, taught me, influenced me in any way. I will admit, it was always a little different in my situation because I grew up with this “life expectancy” from having a chronic illness that lingered in the back of my mind, so from a young age I was always looking for ways to experience all this life had to offer and make the most of what I’d been given. A lot of times this way of living would get me in trouble — but I don’t regret a thing. Every once in a while, during high school, I would pack my little Jeep full of friends in the morning and drive right passed O’Hara when everyone else was rushing through the halls to their homerooms, trying to avoid demerits for not being in your seat exactly when the bell rang. Meanwhile, Carrie Underwood’s CD played on repeat and we’d sing the whole way down to Ocean City on a Tuesday morning during February. We would reach the beach, stand on the rocks at the ocean and laugh together as the waves crashed. Every time we did this, I’d close my eyes just for a second. I’d let the cool, heavy wind blow through the strands of my hair, standing still in my uniform and think, “this is it.” “THIS is life, and I’ll never feel bad for myself because I suffer, because in this moment, I’m alive.” When I say alive, I don’t mean I was living and breathing — the truth is even at this age I was barely breathing. When I say alive, I mean I had this undeniable, uncontainable energy flowing through me powerful enough to think I’d been standing on the edge of a cliff ready to jump. I never regretted these choices — passion vs. normalcy– not even when my mom text me “I’m in O’Hara’s parking lot and your car isn’t here. You have 60 minutes to get back before I call the school and you’re not going out for a month.”

Once, in college, I was walking through the courtyard on my way to a playwriting class that started in 10 minutes. It was the review class for the final exam that was two days later. I’ll never forget this day. It was springtime and the weather was just one of those days where the sun warms your face and its like an angel smiling down. The kind of breezy day where things are starting to bloom and you have to take a second to stop and be thankful for exactly where you are. Well, I did stop, and I looked down at my phone. I had a message from a friend who had a motorcycle, “Today is too beautiful not to go for a ride. You busy?”

-“Nope. Pick me up in the courtyard.”

Now, don’t go abandoning all of your responsibilities. That’s not what I’m saying. I went home later that night and studied my ass off for that playwriting exam. I got a 100. But, I assure you, I couldn’t tell you one question or answer on that test today. I can however explain exactly how the wind felt on my face through that helmet, the racing of my heart in my chest, every street we went down and the sight of that beautiful golden sun beaming through the trees when I’d look up into the sky.

I encourage you with everything I have inside of me to do things like this. Because when I was sitting in that University of Penn office, these were the moments I was thinking of. The moments in February on the beach, when I should have been freezing, but I was nice and warm – not because of the shots of whiskey we were probably taking, but because the fire in my soul was raging with excitement for this incredible life.

Now, years later, I dedicate my service to hospice care, I often wonder if our patients think more about the life they’ve had, more so then the life they have left. The truth is, at one point, regardless if your 24 with Cystic Fibrosis, 100 with heart failure, 88 with Alzheimer’s, or 40 with liver disease, there is going to come a time where you too will be at the end of your life. I want those of you that I’m able to reach through writing to take advantage of this information and make it a priority to be constantly fueling your fire. If I hadn’t lived my life feeding this fire by young summer nights, giving and receiving love, serving others and following my heart, singing out loud and recognizing all I’ve truly been given, I would have had nothing to look back on. It also turns out, during that time I thought was the end, I had an awful lot of people…”good” people there for me, praying for me, keeping me in the best possible places to be — in their hearts, their minds and their prayers.

Before I close, one of my strongest passions happens to be with the elderly. I don’t know why. Some people have the passion for working with babies, animals, children, abuse victims, etc. I’m also aware that although extraordinary in a positive way, this life can and is often times EXTRAORDINARILY HARD, too. Not everyone has the privilege to work in the field where their heart lies, but that’s no excuse to let your light burn out. Make it a priority to set time aside for what really makes you feel alive.. even if it happens to be something simple, like making a call to an old friend to keep the “good” people in your life. And if you take anything at all from what I’ve written today, remember to feed your fire, so that when your time comes, and you think back on the life you’ve lived, the love you’ve provided and the compassion you’ve given, you’re proud. Leave nothing left. Use every since ounce of your energy, kindness, passion, service, heart, soul, all your love, all your light. You’ll be amazed at what you’re filled with in return.

Welcome to the “My Second Life” blog.

I’m Samantha. I’m 27 years old. Nothing about my life is ordinary. I sincerely hope you enjoy all that I have to share.

Naming my site was much easier than I anticipated. I decided on “My Second Life” because in a sense, the past few years I’ve been living what I consider to be my second chance at this extraordinary life — and living is an understatement. Thriving, better describes life recently, and I’m really excited to share all the reasons why.

Here, I’ll be sharing everything from growing up with Cystic Fibrosis, to how I stay positive & full of faith through trials, my journey after receiving a double lung transplant, and how through all of these experiences I manage to live a life full of excitement, passion, adventure, and most of all, gratitude.

Starting a blog is something I’ve considered for years but also something that was always just a little too far outside my comfort zone. One of my biggest fears? No one will read it…. or care. What was scarier than that was, what if people actually do read it? What will they think? It’s literally taken me years to get over that. I’ve never been an over-sharer. Actually, I’ve never really even been a sharer. I once dated a guy for a year and a half before even telling him I had CF – Cystic Fibrosis – an incurable lung disease. I hid hospital stays, PICC LINE IV’s, coughing up blood… hid it all because I was afraid to share the real me. I did, however, always find writing to be therapeutic. So much that during my sickest times, I wound up writing an entire fictional book about a rockstar who suffered from Cystic Fibrosis like I did. Honest to goodness. I wrote an entire 75,000-word book about fictional people because I wasn’t comfortable enough writing about myself.  All of that changed, though, after I received the gift of life.

I apologize in advance for the length of this post.

It’s my first one though and I want to make sure I don’t leave anything out!

Here’s the shortest version I can make of my story: after suffering for years in my early 20s on oxygen tanks, feeding tubes, poor quality of life and failing lungs due to Cystic Fibrosis, my doctors at the University of Penn told me I had weeks left to live. This was four years ago. Dying young was something I always anticipated. I knew the reality of my disease. I can’t say I “accepted” the fact that I would die when I was 23, but the news didn’t surprise me. I had spent my life up to that moment actually waiting for that moment, but when it finally came, it just didn’t feel right.

I lived what I thought was a pretty eventful life up until then, too. I did my best to experience what I felt most people my age should have experienced. I went to high school, played sports, went to prom, tried college, fell hard in love, had my heart broken. I’ve had true friends and fake friends. I’d been to Disney — (a necessity for what I consider a well-lived life). I’d gotten drunk… too drunk. I stayed out too late and had my share of rebellion. I experienced death of a loved one. I experienced so much goodness in life, too. I chose to see miracles when others chose to see coincidence. I knew what it felt like to be loved and surrounded by family and friends. I spent most of my time as a nursing home volunteer because I was always too sick to hold down a real job — but I had those for a little bit too. Because of all these things, I thought I’d be more “ready” to die. But I wasn’t. There was something missing. I felt as though, even with all the living I thought I’d done, I hadn’t yet found my purpose. If I were to die in the weeks ahead, did I feel accomplished enough to actually leave this world? Is this something a 23-year-old should have to think about?

I was given an option to be listed on the transplant-waiting-list. I couldn’t believe this was something people actually had to think about. To me, it was just so simple. Do you want to let yourself die, or do you want to do everything you can to try to live? To this day, I firmly believe it was the greatest choice I’ve ever made. After transplant is full of its own hardships. Like, an ungodly amount of hardships, but they are worth it. This life is worth it. I try my hardest not to judge those who forgo the transplant, but I’ll never understand. I wholeheartedly chose the list. Even if I died during the surgery, at least I could say I did everything in my power to keep living. I was told to be hopeful, but realistic. I had weeks to live and some people on the waiting list had been on there for months – even years, but once my name was on that list, I had no doubt anymore. I could feel in my bones that I was getting a transplant. My heart knew; my soul knew. My spirit was too full of life to end and I realize now, my life hadn’t even started yet. All the living I thought I’d done was so insignificant in comparison to life after transplant and I want to share all of the beautiful reasons why.

I was placed on the list June 4, 2014. I was called with a perfect match on June 24th, 2014 — 20 days. I hope you  understand why I see miracles now. Because I am one.

Recovery was hell. Four years later I’m still recovering. I’ll be recovering as long as I live — and I’m proud of it. I won’t list the hundreds of setbacks I’ve dealt with because they’re all in the past. They’re negative and no one wants to hear about negativity. I will tell you, however, how I finally found my purpose.

I wasn’t cleared to work after my surgery. I never finished school. I’d lost touch with a lot of friends. I was still heartbroken over a relationship that ended after I disclosed how sick I really was. All I really had was my faith, and my team — a  group of people who never left my side and did everything they could to keep me fighting for life. That’s all I needed.

One night when I couldn’t sleep, I was up on my phone thinking of ways I could give back to this world for blessing me with a second chance at life. I thought because I had been so close to death, that maybe I had a calling in hospice care. I had a very unique perspective and connection with hospice patients, since I was one of few people living who could understand what it was like to be at the end of your own life. I applied for a volunteer position with a local hospice. I went through an all-day orientation and a couple weeks later was assigned six patients to visit at different nursing homes. I was surprised at how naturally it came to me. I could talk to these patients about anything. Unlike other volunteers, I had nothing but time on my hands because I wasn’t working, so I would just keep asking for more patients to visit. I did this for 6 months before my doctor cleared me for a job. I was doing so well, even with my setbacks, that my lung transplant doctor said if I want to find a little job, I was healthy enough.

This scared me because I’d never been capable of anything normal before — including a job. I always had being sick as an excuse to have not finished school and to not have worked. Now, I was healthy for the first time in my entire life and I had no idea how to handle that. Fortunately, God is never without a plan and I’ve seen his hand in my life so clearly that it’s impossible to deny. That same day — THE VERY SAME DAY — that I was cleared to work, I got a call from the current Volunteer Coordinator at the hospice I was volunteering for. She was going back to school to become a nurse and before they posted her job on their website, they wanted to know if I was interested in running the volunteer department. This was just the beginning of the storm of miracles that poured down on me after I started living this new and grateful life full of passion and excitement. This position was no coincidence. It was and still is exactly where I am meant to be.

I took the job.

I met the boy.

I did all the living.

Just like that.

I plan to tell you all about the boy and the living and the adventures and the LIFE in future posts.

God, there’s just so much ground to cover!

We’re almost done but know this — while I was still in the hospital only days after my transplant, I visualized this blog. I really did. I thought of the pictures I would take doing things I had only ever imagined — like being able to breathe normally enough to go for a hike. To see nature and leaves and trees and feel the breeze on my face and be able to breathe it all in. I thought of being able to sit on the beach for hours without needing my dad to carry me to the car for a portable nebulizer because I couldn’t breathe. In the hospital, I could close my eyes tight enough to actually feel sea mist and the warmth of sun on my face.  I thought of the simple things people take for granite every day that I had lost the ability to do, and how good it would feel to do them again — simple things like sing in the car or walk the mall — or adventurous things like go to concerts or swim with dolphins – WHICH I DID and can’t wait to share with you! I imagined pictures of these things in a scrap book with handwritten stories under them. I imagined being in the arms of a man who accepted me for all that I’ve been through and all that I am now. I never knew what these things felt like. Well, I do now.

Four years later, I have hundreds of pictures and almost unbelievable adventures to share. Through a fighting spirit for life and the deepest faith, a lifetime of suffering and an endless spirit of gratefulness, I’m now able to really live. Like, really live. Not just be alive, but thrive. I can love, I can laugh, I can live, I can feel, taste, see, smell, dance, cry — I can do anything. I feel invincible. Unstoppable. Unbreakable.

I’ve gone zip-lining, rode an elephant, swam with dolphins, rode in a hot air balloon, went to the Florida Keys, spent the day on a fishing boat, rode on jet-ski’s, hiked trails, parasailed! Life just started and it’s the most beautiful experience. Even the “ordinary days” are extraordinary. This world recognized my determination to live and that’s exactly what I’m doing — every single day.

I plan to share all of these adventures with you through this blog.

I hope through all I have to share you find positivity, faith and the inspiration to reach for the stars in your own life.

There is so much more to come 🙂

-Sam 🙂