Rejection. A word that's been constantly in my head for eleven years now, and even more so in the last year. Words don't scare me, it's quite the opposite actually. Words are always the inspiration, the purpose. But this one word feels like it has its sharp claws digging into my skin, applying more pressure year after year.
Everyone's experienced it before. Whether it be from a person or a potential employer, rejection isn't rare. Although getting rejected by your own lungs is pretty harsh compared to getting a rejection letter in your inbox from a recruiter, the feeling of incompetence stays the same. In both scenarios, I wonder if I'm good enough, or maybe strong enough. Maybe the universe is doing me a favor by not offering me a specific job, but at the same time I think, "Do I not deserve these lungs?"
The week of January 15th, my dad and I drove up to Tampa from Miami for the third time in three months. My pulmonary lung function test (PFT) showed a significant decline in my lung's ability to breathe. This is worrying on any occasion, but more so this time because there was no found cause as to why this was happening. Every test showed up negative, no trace of any virus or fungal infection was found. A relief, but also not the answer I want because that always means it could be the big bad R word. There is no one test to show chronic rejection, it's an amalgamation of low lung function and an overall decline in health. So, with this rattling around my brain since November of last year, this last trip to my transplant clinic was anxiety-inducing, to say the least.
The good news: my lungs are doing great. They're clear and my numbers are up. Verbatim from my doctor, "I don't think it's your lungs."
The not-so-good news: It's probably my sinuses. Which, in comparison, is way better than the former. Might need sinus surgery but I'll cross that bridge when I get there. And I still have 10 rejection letters sitting in my inbox...
It's taken me time to reflect (which is why this post is a week late)...We are (I am) more than a faulty organ, more than a job rejection. We are conditioned into thinking that rejection means failure. Retraining my mind to not feel small just because I didn't get the big girl job I thought I had in the bag takes time...and patience. Instead of shutting down, I retrace my steps and analyze what might've gone wrong. And that pit in my stomach still gets bigger with every "no".
If you're a relatively healthy person who only ever sees "rejection" from relationships or jobs, you are still enough. If you're a transplant patient with a potentially rejecting organ, you are still enough and worthy of your body. It's a process, one I'm still pretty unfamiliar with, but promise to get better at.
As I gather resources, I'll link them in the comments under this post :)
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