Support

I have some support. Not much yet, really. But some. I've told my brother about my condition. I've told Jimmy, my mate at work. And I've told a couple of church friends. I'm planning to have lunch tomorrow with Paul. He's a minister, a pastor at my Mimico church. He's also a friend. I'll never forget what he said when I told him.

"I'll take that journey with you, Dale. I'll walk it with you."

Every time I recall his words, I smile. I find comfort. In fact, I've noticed a sense of comfort, a sense of relief each time I share my burden. I honestly believe that burdens - even the emotional kind - are made lighter somehow by sharing them. Strange, isn't it?

I plan to seek out an IPF support group at some point. I'm not keen to do it yet, though. I'm afraid of seeing and hearing things that will add to my worries. A neighbour leads a group for people who've suffered lung problems. I have his number. He lives only a ten minute walk from here. I'll call him one day. I promise.

"Joy shared is doubled. Grief shared is halved."

I don't know who said that, but it really does make sense.


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