Happy New Year.
Just a few months ago, amidst the 999 calls and the terrifying diagnoses of $\text{LVSD}$ (EF 20%) and $\text{NYHA}$ Stage IV, I couldn't guarantee I would see this day. For anyone facing a life-limiting illness, crossing the threshold into a new year is not a given—it is a fierce, hard-won victory.
This is the year I didn't expect to see, and because of that, I greet it not with complacency, but with doubled resolve: We fight. We live. Keep fighting. Keep living.
The War Zone is My Living Room
My life is now a fight not for a plane ticket, but for stability. The war zone isn't a foreign conflict; it's right here in my living room, centered on my chest.
The Fight for Breath: Every moment is a struggle against the breathlessness inherent in Stage IV heart failure. The fight is won not by rushing, but by the discipline of stillness and the immediate, effective use of my rescue medication.
The Fight for Purity: The battle against fluid retention requires absolute control over diet. It's a fight against temptation and convenience, won with every meticulously weighed, low-sodium meal.
The Fight for Dignity: When you are housebound and relying on the kindness of the Community Care Team, the fight is to maintain your sense of self, your voice, and your purpose.
This year, success will not be measured by the miles I travel, but by the number of times I choose to fight for the quality of the life I still have.
Living is the Victory
The second half of my resolution—We live—is the reward for the fight. Living is the active choice to engage with the world, even when physically confined.
How do we 'live' powerfully with severe heart failure?
Embrace the Unexpected Gift: I choose to see every sunrise, every conversation with a carer, and every stable health report as an unexpected gift. Gratitude is the fuel for the fight.
Make Small Joy Mandatory: The traveler in me would seek grand moments. The patient in me seeks small, reliable joys: a favorite piece of music, a perfectly brewed cup of tea (after the military mission of lifting it!), or a captivating story shared online. These are the treasures of the grounded life.
Use Your Voice: I live through my words. This blog, my new communication channel, is my way of refusing to let illness silence me. If my fight can help one person feel less alone today, then this life is powerfully lived.
This New Year's Day, I am making a commitment: I will not just survive 2026; I will fully live 2026 within the beautiful, terrifying, and precious confines of my health blueprint.
To everyone reading this, whatever your fight is today: Keep fighting. Keep living. You are not alone on this journey.
What is one small, simple thing you plan to do today to actively "live" and celebrate this unexpected new year?
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