I don't think I'm coming home. Something doesn't feel right, Julie said. She was right. Her lungs functions had dropped to even lower levels and doctors were unsure of what to do next. For the first time in our marriage, I saw my wife using oxygen. With the air flowing, her oxygen levels were 91%. Without it, they were 62%. My Julie's lungs were dying. As the days passed, I would witness her health decline further. As Julie lay motionless throughout the night, I would hold her as we listened to the steady, unrelenting grind of her feeding tube pump. On this hospitalization, the words: End Stage Cystic Fibrosis were spoken for the first time. A double lung transplant would be the only way to save her life. If we could keep her alive long enough, she could walk out of the hospital on her own. She would have to rely on her courage to breathe to do it.