Lifesavers for Latasha

Warning up front, this one is a bit more raw than most.

As I have always done, I am going to keep it real and honest. The title does say it all because it isn’t all roses and sunshine here at the Warner house. Now, don’t get me wrong; as we wind through the 90-day heart and double lung transplant mark, all is very well from a medical perspective for the transplant.

Tasha and I drove to Cleveland yesterday for her 90-day post-operative checkup at Cleveland Clinic. Aside from leaving at 3:30 a.m. (I prefer driving at night on empty roads), it was a routine start to the day. That was until Tasha experienced the worst car sickness ever, lasting for over 24 hours now. This transformed the day into a very rough day, especially when she hadn’t had nausea or vomited in two weeks. It felt like all that progress had just been wiped away.

Regarding Tasha’s labs, x-rays, spirometry, and clinical review, she is in the top percentile of physical health from her body, accepting three new organs. Her lung function has increased another 6%; her hemoglobin is almost back to normal, which means her body has produced all the blood she lost from her lung bleed. Her x-ray shows her lung has recovered almost entirely from the bleeding, and there is very little internal evidence it occurred. So all that is great, and that should be enough, right? Well, it isn’t.

As most of you know, the physical healing journey is easy. The mental and emotional battles are always the hardest and hurt the most. That’s why we all harbor dark thoughts and struggle daily to fight through the emotional mud and messiness of them colliding and combining to battle us back. No one gets through this messy life without some mental trauma – no one!

Depending on what resource you look at, there are dozens of labeled emotions, but to them, they all stem from three primary emotions: anger, sadness, and happiness. Everything else is a combination or variation of them with a physiological and psychological response to a situation.

I am here to tell you the emotional and mental mud is fucking deep and hard. Tasha and I have struggled badly this past week. Life is lifing, and it feels fake as if we are ghosts in our own lives (I don’t know how to explain it better). We have both lost our mental and emotional battles many times in the last 90 days, but we were always there for each other. This last week, it felt like it was all unraveling. And to be clear, we’re okay and do not need or want anything. I am showing the hardness of this journey, the severity of mental and emotional health struggles, and how it can drag someone into the darkness if they do not fight back and have warriors ready to battle with them.

Yesterday, our poor doctor got the brunt of my frustration because although most people say they understand or empathize, they don’t really, and they can’t because they are not going through it and haven’t been through it. It’s harsh, but it’s true; it’s why fake platitudes piss me off and make things worse. At the end of a very long day and appointment, we both had a better respect for the situation and each other, but it’s exhausting to keep it real without letting out the inner warrior beast that lays just below the surface.

To my point, Tasha is struggling with stomach issues that neither of us knew was a possibility nor ever imagined could or would be an issue. So the million-dollar problem statement, which the doctor got explained to her very passionately, is why not being able to eat food is causing tremendous mental and emotional health issues for Tasha. The doctor wouldn’t remove Tasha’s feeding tube and said she would need to keep it in until her 1 November GI EGD appointment. That was a significant blow to her. Words cannot express her anger and my frustration.

The short of the long is food has always been the one thing that no one (her body or doctor) could ever take from Tasha. It was the one constant in her life that was always hers. Her family can attest to this as she was very vocal about her food as a young child. Food was in her control and a sacred thing that brought joy and ways of showing love and appreciation. With that gone, life seems less bright. It feels dull and pointless. It makes all this feel worth nothing because what’s the point of living a longer life if it now consists of a feeding tube or tasteless pureed food? As a foody myself, I get it. Also, because we have traveled throughout the country, food and culture are a large part of our adventures. Travel and food are a big part of our future dreams and goals… with that potentially gone, we are frustrated beyond explanation.

Trust me, I get it. This is all likely temporary, but the mind is powerful and evil when it is nurtured with anger, frustration, guilt, depression, and other emotions. Tasha is going through a silent battle of epic proportions.

And me. Then there is me and my sometimes unhelpful warrior mentality that the only way through hell is to just fucking suck it up and get through it as fast as possible. It works, trust me, but there are casualties along the way, and it’s, not the friendliest or most supportive of mantras.

I have my struggles and issues I am dealing with that I have kept silent, and it all came bubbling out this week; we have never felt so far apart as a team as we have this week because of it all. I feel like a horrible husband, weak man, and shitty selfish friend. If this isn’t the pinnacle of messy and being down in the mud, I, don’t know what it is.

What scares us both is what’s next. We are both tapped out, and what else is lurking in the shadows waiting to sucker punch us?

To be clear, we are not done. We are not quitters. We are far from weak and have the grit to fight more, but we are tired. We didn’t know it could be this bad or hard.

Tasha has mental health appointments on the horizon, and I know in time we will be okay, but these types of scars take a long time to heal and change someone forever.

If you have read to the end, just know that I approve of all the support and sometimes distance as we get through this. My point of this post is that all things medically are going well, but that’s just one part of the battle.

I DO NOT WANT SYMPATHY, nor do I need it. But I do want people to see that things are never perfect and everyone fights inner demons and struggles. So be kind and give those around you grace, as you never know what their day held in the background and how they are trying to keep it together. We all have a facade—all of us.

In closing, I am choosing to reframe this week through reflection and hard work and get out of the mud, one step at a time.

As Tasha’s favorite Anne of Green Gable quote says, “Tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it.”