Roger: Roger was looking forward to his lung transplant. He had lived with cystic fibrosis all his life and had struggled successfully to face the challenges his illness had set before him. Despite this, he had always kept up with others at school and work. Often Roger excelled, despite the limitations his illness placed on him.
The past year awaiting transplant had not been easy. Roger was on sick leave from work and had to wear an oxygen mask most of the day and night. "I can not fool anyone now," he thought, "Everybody can see that I am sick."
Weeks ago, the physiotherapist on the lung transplant team had suggested that Roger might use a wheelchair when he went outside. This would enable him to stay out longer and keep up with others. He would also have more energy for rehabilitation exercises. But Roger had always promised himself that he would never use a wheelchair. "That would be too much," he always had said. To Roger, a wheelchair signaled that cystic fibrosis had bettered him. He had seen others arrive at the hospital's cystic fibrosis clinic in a wheelchair. Before long, they did not come any more.
It eventually became obvious to Roger that he was avoiding certain activities because he did not have the energy to keep up. It had become easier for him to stay in the house than to go out. He knew this had an impact on the family. Someone would always stay at home with him. They would change their plans instead of leave him home alone.
When he did go out with family, everybody walked slowly so that he did not fall behind. Last week when out at the mall, he saw tears in his mother's eyes. He knew how painful it was for her to see him trying to keep up and getting short of breath.
One day his fiancé brought a wheelchair home with her. She said, "We are going out for a walk. You are going to go stir crazy if you do not get outside." Roger surprised both himself and his fiancé when he just said, "Okay." That day they walked for longer than Roger had been out for months.
Roger remembered something that the transplant coordinator had told him when he first entered the program. She had said, "That a transplant candidate must do whatever it takes to build and conserve strength for the transplant." Now Roger saw that he had allowed his pride to postpone his use of a wheelchair, an aid that could clearly benefit his health and well being. "Live and learn," he thought, "but as soon as I have had the transplant, I am getting rid of this chair."
We all live within the boundaries allowed by our health, abilities and resources. Serious illness and transplant can impose limits and challenges that nobody would choose. But to be human and to live in this world requires flexibility. As our world changes, so must we. Fighting something over which you have no control is a drain on your energy and resources. The trick is to recognize when to fight and when to adapt. There is a big difference between fighting illness and fighting reality. Roger was not fighting cystic fibrosis when he avoided the use of a wheelchair. He was trying to fight the reality of his health. By doing so, he let illness rob him of the chance to remain involved in life. To adjust does not mean that you must give up hope, or give in to some predetermined destiny. By working with what life offers you today, you conserve yourself for the opportunities and challenges of tomorrow.