Can I borrow your machete?

I had my second one-month biopsy yesterday. It was painful. I don't want them anymore.
Well, I never wanted them, but I'm very tired of getting them and I wish I didn't have to get them anymore. Right.
Anyway, I casually asked my doctors yesterday if I could travel/what shots I was allowed to get in terms of vaccinations. They were a bit taken aback and said they've never had that question from a heart transplant patient. They said most heart transplant patients don't want to travel anywhere.
I'm not sure what to make of that.
I went on an epic hike, climbed down a slippery steep cliff, and skated on some frozen over bodies of water in the wilds of the Missouri forests on Sunday. I don't really understand why anyone, especially a group of people so stuck on the "I have a second chance at life" sentiment, would not take advantage of every fucking opportunity that comes their way. And not just stop there, make their own opportunities, throw themselves into experiences and journeys.
I know, I'm one to talk. I've been in a relationship for 3 years and have been figuring out how to get out of it for 2 1/4 years. I'm a hypocrite.
But that's not the point.
I'm still doing things that, apparently no other transplant patients do.
I don't understand people.

I don't understand myself. I wonder if I will ever feel satisfied in my life and experiences. My relationships. I am scared it will never be enough.
But is that a bad thing? Especially for me? Not to rationalize (okay maybe to rationalize) my flaws, but because of my extremely fucked up crazy relationship with my own mortality and the realization that I can, and will most likely, die relatively soon, why should I ever feel satisfied? Why should I ever settle?
I don't know.
I just feel selfish and guilty. As per usual.

Just because this path hasn't been made yet, and even though I might have to hack through dense vines and face scary panthers and shit, I would rather do that and get hurt and get dirty, than rot away wishing and regretting. So, can I borrow your machete?