My breathing had been growing increasingly difficult as of late. I wasn’t sure what was wrong, but a visit to the doctor’s office left me with an unwelcome diagnosis. Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis (IPF), a mysterious and incurable lung disease.
I tried to remain positive while the doctor explained my treatment plan. Inevitably, my symptoms would worsen over time, and there was no way to stop it. All I could do was make the best of the time I had left.
Still, I refused to give up hope. I continued to enjoy activities I loved, although at a slower rate. I kept my friends and family close, cherishing every moment I spent with them. I was present in every moment.
Gradually, my breathing worsened until I could scarce move a few steps. When the doctor informed me that my lungs had failed and that I was dying, I felt a deep sense of despair. I was filled with the knowledge that I would soon leave my loved ones behind.
My final days were spent in bed, surrounded by my family. Though I was confined to my bed, I felt blessed to experience the love of my family in my last moments. As I drew my last breath, I was surrounded by a serene peace, despite the knowledge of death’s inevitable embrace.
Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis took my life, but I was thankful for the time I had left and the chance to say goodbye. Though I felt despair, I found solace in knowing that I had made the most of my life despite its unfortunate end.