Dear Friends,

I hope you are all recovering from the holidays and staying virus free! If you are like me, you returned from the holidays to an inbox full of messages that made the last week seem a lot further away from the holidays than it actually was.

Today, Ana and I turned 39!  THANK YOU TO ALL OUR FRIENDS who remembered our Capricorn birthday. Today, I definitely FEEL the LOVE and a life worthwhile!  This is a huge milestone for us, to officially be in the last year of our 30′s, and reach our 40th year!

After Ana’s medical challenges last year, and our most demanding and exhausting year yet with the film, the two Stenzel weddings, and the Transplant Games, we have both survived with flying colors and are STILL HERE. Yes, we are still here. Twenty nine years later than the doctors predicted, 20 and 30 years later than some of our friends with CF. One of our ultra sensitive CF nurses once said after Ana’s second transplant, “You guys just don’t die!” (knock on wood)

We are one year away from being 40, which marks the year that we are officially called “Long Term Survivors” in the statistical records of those with cystic fibrosis.  Only 5% of Americans with CF reach that fortunate status.

Why are we here? Because of you. Because today I received more than 75 facebook messages, several phone messages, a warm loving greeting from my husband and a wonderful intimate dinner with my brother, niece, sister in law, brother in law, husband and of course, Ana. Me and my Ana, or m’ah. And Ana says ‘Me and my Isa or m’ah. In twinspeak we give each other a loving look, and say, ‘Me and M’ah together.’  That’s really what makes getting older so damn awesome. That we are doing it together.

The night before my 39th birthday, I fell asleep on the couch before 10pm, trying to watch my favorite show, “In Treatment.” Yep. That’s a sign. It’s all down hill from here. How do I feel at the tail end of my 30′s? Well, I’d rather cut to the chase and just be forty. It has been my lifelong dream to be 40, because for so long it was more fantasy than reality. Now, I’m almost there.

When I was a teenager, I got a poster from National Geography about anthropology and the history of mankind, starting with Neanderthal, Australopithecus, Homo habilis, to Homo Sapien. I studied it intently. Somewhere centuries ago, there was a marker on the timeline poster that said, “For 99.9% of human history, 99% of humans born lived under 40 years.”  That gave me great solace, that my life with CF wouldn’t be much different than most of mankind, and that it was okay if I died young. Now, there’s a chance I can be among the longer living homo sapiens. 

So what do I want in my last year of my 30′s?? More of the same! Bring it on, hell yeah, I pray for more health and opportunity that comes with health: adventure, travel, unforeseen blessings, enriching new and old relationships, seeing the world, appreciating nature, just being fully alive. Ana and I are classic ‘Stenzel’, in the sense that sometimes we don’t stay in the present but look forward and forward. So today we were planning a trip to Machu Picchu for our 40th Birthday. If God wills it. If it doesn’t happen, that’s okay too. Just being able to make it this far will be great enough.

Today, I feel beautiful. I feel beautiful because my life is so incredibly perfect. Perfect does not mean happy, or easy, or free of stress. Perfect means balanced. Balanced with enough struggle and turmoil to make me want to move forward; to want to enrich myself and those around me to greater fulfillment. I have no regrets. I have had one massive blessing after another, year after year. I do not consider my life with CF a life of suffering; it was a life of challenge that compelled me to know who I am and what I’m made of, to know myself and how I face achievement, conflict, insecurity, sadness, loneliness, failure, the uncontrollable. I feel it is SUCH a privilege to grow older so I can know myself more deeply; to chase out those demons, to confront and face those who I wish treated me in a different way growing up, to change and move on and ‘get over it.’  I know who I am now, I know what I want. I know to balance giving and receiving; to give less to others when I reach the point of burnout and to say no and listen to myself. Most of all, it is such a privilege to witness the most valuable aspects of this human experience- love. I think I’ve learned things many people take many more decades to learn: that my relationships are really all I will leave this world with. And the good news is: there’s much more to learn, if I’m granted the time.

In two weeks, I’ll be presenting a workshop at a local hospice with my dear friend Tiffany Christensen of www.sickgirlspeaks.com, on “To the Edge and Back: Two Patients with Life-Limiting Illness Share Life in the Death Bed.” This is a real upper, I know, but the truth is, I’m not supposed to be here. I had my death experience, I crossed the other side, yet, I woke up, because my donor Xavier did not. I had NO control over my death, then and now. I am hoping sharing my experiences with the hospice staff and volunteers, together with Tiffany, will offer them special sensitivity and insight.

I remember clearly facing my death in my late 20′s, right before my life-threatening lung bleed, exactly 9 years ago, and before facing the really tough end-stage of CF. Around my 29th birthday, I wrote this poem below, whichI discovered when I was looking for material for my end-0f-life talk. I am reminded of how much I’ve changed in 10 years; and how my life has been so richly graced in the last decade; the hardest and best decade of my life.

Almost
I’m almost thirty-and succeeding at survival-
I’m almost perfectly confident with who I am
I almost have everything I need
I almost have complete fulfillment
Almost

I can almost run an eighth of a mile
I can almost have a fulfilling career
I can almost pass as normal
I almost qualify for the life-saving clinical trial
I am almost ready for a lung transplant in a few years
I can almost go a day without any therapy
I almost have as much energy as my aging mother
I almost met God but he wasn’t ready

I almost learned to be completely true to myself
I almost have nothing to complain about
I can almost believe I am going to make it
I would almost ask for nothing more
I could almost say if I have more loss I’d be okay
I’m almost ready if the end would come
To say I’ve lived an almost perfect life.
Almost.

By Isa Stenzel 2001

I’ve come far in a decade. For some things, I am still ‘ALMOST’ complete. But I’m much closer to really feeling complete. I look forward to another decade of discovery.

Thank you for reading this post. I hope you can reflect on your life as you read this. Are you ‘almost’ complete? I pray you enjoyed your January 8 the way I did: surrounded by friends, eating a fabulous German breakfast, going on a nice walk, getting my dog’s professional pet portrait, eating a massive warm and zesty Korean meal, and topping it off with Princess cake with a bubbly one year old niece. Life is good! Pass me the Miralax!

I close with immense gratitude to Ana’s and my 3 organ donors who have allowed us to celebrate this birthday together. May God bless their families always.

Isa

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