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My blood is clean. My lungs work better than most people of my age and physiological dimensions, they don't work as well as they used to, as I'm used to.
I have no new information save for the whisper of life. The knowledge that this, as far as they all can say, is not the bringer of my demise. It's not going to kill me.
The knowledge that I'm going to live threw me into some temporary high, it gave me something like what I think I'll feel if we ever find a 'cure'. Happiness and relief until I realized that the pain is still there. And I fell, without a sound, back into my void. The place I built for myself. The place where I've lived and learned to deal. The place where I taught myself how best to answer a How are you? with a smile and an I'm fine when I got tired of trying to explain my indefinite struggle for a semblance of normality.
So I'm back here now, without even a straw to clutch. With more than I had, but somehow it still manages to feel like less.