I’m So Glad I Went: What Happened After I Said Yes

In my last article, I shared how transthyretin amyloid cardiomyopathy (ATTR-CM) had changed the way I looked at something that once would have been simple—a girls’ trip to Boone, North Carolina.

ATTR-CM led to uncertainty

Years ago, it would have been an easy yes. Back then, I was the woman who would jump in the car and drive from Pennsylvania to South Carolina without a second thought just to see Brad. I lived for the freedom of the open road, spontaneous plans, and the joy of just going.

But ATTR-CM has a way of making every “yes” come with a list of “what ifs.”

What if I fall?
What if my stomach revolts?
What if I slow everyone down?
What if I become a burden?

Those questions followed me right up until the trip.

And now, looking back, I can say this with my whole heart: I am so glad I went.

A girls' trip in the mountains

Boone was beautiful in the kind of way that makes you breathe a little deeper. The mountains stood quietly around us, steady and strong, and I remember thinking how much I needed that change of scenery - not just physically, but emotionally too. Sometimes living with ATTR-CM can make your world feel smaller without you even realizing it. Your safe places become fewer, your routines tighter, and your willingness to step outside of them starts to fade.

This trip reminded me that life is still out there waiting for me.

Traveling with ATTR-CM made me nervous

Before we left, I had shared with my friend just how nervous I was. I told her all the fears that were circling in my mind, all the unknowns that come with traveling in a body you can no longer fully predict. Without knowing just how deeply it would touch me, she shared Psalm 23.

My favorite Psalm.

She had no idea that those words were the exact reassurance my heart needed: a reminder that I am never walking into the unknown alone. It felt like God’s gentle way of confirming that this trip was not something to fear, but something to receive.

And I did.

That doesn’t mean ATTR-CM stayed quiet the whole time.

Dealing with ATTR-CM symptoms

My stomach still had its moment, because that is part of this life now. But somehow it almost felt kind. It waited until late at night, after the laughter, after the shopping, after the moments had already been made. It reminded me that yes, this disease came with me - but it did not steal the joy.

That alone felt like a victory.

There was a hot tub where we stayed, and getting out of it reminded me again that I still need help sometimes. In another season of this journey, that might have frustrated me. It might have become another reminder of what I’ve lost.

But this time, it felt different.

My friend was there without hesitation, reaching out a hand as naturally as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Maybe that’s because it is. This disease has taught me that needing help doesn’t lessen the experience. Sometimes it actually deepens it, because it reveals the kind of love and friendship that says, I’ve got you.

Learning to enjoy the moment

One of the sweetest moments came in a store with more stairs than I expected. Normally, that would have sent me into an internal spiral. Too many steps can feel like too many reminders of what ATTR-CM has changed.

But instead of letting it ruin the moment, I chose differently.

I sat in a chair, watched people, listened to the joy around me, and simply enjoyed being there. My friend described everything in the store, laughed with me about the things she knew I’d love, and brought me back little treasures I wanted.

And in that moment, I realized something important.

Joy doesn’t always look like doing what you used to do. Sometimes joy is simply being present enough to still enjoy it.

I am still me

That carefree road-tripping woman I used to be? She is still here.

She may sit more now.
She may move slower.
She may need a hand getting out of the hot tub.
She may let someone else take the stairs.

But she is still here.

She still laughs.
She still makes memories.
She still says yes.

The resilience and gratitude ATTR has given me

ATTR-CM may silently change you, but sometimes those changes uncover something beautiful too: resilience, deeper friendships, gratitude for the smallest mercies, and the realization that life is still very much worth showing up for.

This trip didn’t just give me memories of Boone.

It gave me proof.

Proof that courage doesn’t always look like fearlessness.
Sometimes courage looks like packing the bag anyway.
Getting in the car anyway.
Going with the nerves.
Trusting the people beside you.
Trusting that even if life looks different, it can still be good.

And now I know.

I am still here.
Still living.
Still laughing.
Still making memories.

And I am so very glad I went.