French la Vie

Four years ago I was told I had chronic asthma. For an entire year after that diagnosis, I fought it. Physically — emotionally. I refused to believe it. Every sign was there, every test pointed to the same conclusion, and still I told myself they were wrong. I did not want to be someone who needed daily medication for the rest of my life.

Looking back, that was not my wisest choice.

I landed in the hospital several times. The last episode was frightening enough to force me to see what denial was costing. Since then, I have taken my medication every single day. No skipping. I have not had another crisis.

My asthma is triggered by respiratory infections, not allergies. That means I have to be mindful in a way that feels almost impossible when you have grandchildren. If they have a cold, I wear a mask. Loving them from across the room sometimes feels unnatural, yet it’s necessary.

Chelsea came down with a cold and was in bed for nearly three days. I caught it at the same time. It wiped me out. A respiratory infection when you live with asthma — is brutal.

These past few days were difficult. Yet in the middle of it I felt prayers and loving thoughts sent my way. Energy is real. Directed with intention, it strengthens. Every time I felt especially awful, I pictured that circle of care.

Yann has been taking care of my every need without hesitation. Chelsea is slowly coming back to herself. Gabriel and Olivia now have the cold and have been in bed. So far, Yann and Martin are hanging on.

Families share many things. This week ours has been germs.

I am on the mend. I feel the tide shifting.

For that, I am deeply grateful. Thank you. For your messages xxx