How would I have spent my teens and twenties if I had known what was coming? Do I only feel such regret because of how things ended up? How could it possibly matter? 

I got a new breathing machine yesterday; the first one didn't work so well. This one's better, and it has to be - the day will come when I can't breathe without it. It's mounted on a stand on wheels like an I.V. in the hospital. The last one came in a handheld case vaguely resembling a laptop bag. It seemed so easy - I could bring it on a plane or over to a friend's house. This one's much more daunting.

It's a rental from the supplier - there's a sticker that says so - a real vote of confidence to my longevity. I can't help but think that two short years ago, I was living in my own house, driving my own car, and walking (poorly) where I needed. The next two years will surely go as fast - it's hard to think about where I'll be.