Dying Is Easy, Young Man. Living Is Harder

In case you missed it last night, I have a blog post up on the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation website about the difficulties in finding purpose after a transplant, especially after growing up with cystic fibrosis. This sentence is the link.

I get that it’s kind of shitty to complain about being alive, but I’d like to think that’s not what I’m doing. Most of the time, someone gets a disease, or a transplant, and it’s like a sledgehammer to their life, throwing all their plans out of whack and generally sucking hard. But then it’s over and they can try and return to their life. But with CF, that other life is kind of garbage. It was spent planning to die. And that’s really no way to live.

I would also like to take a moment to apologize for my facial hair in the second photo. I was working on a Western and had to grow out a 1800s-appropriate mustache. It looked great in costume and on set, but not so much out in the real world. I only submitted the photo because the lung cake looked cool.