Not That Kind Of Girl

You may think with having an incurable heart/lung condition that I would be the constantly praying type, but I'm not. I do think loads of happy thoughts for my challenged organs and I think tons and tons of happy thoughts for loved ones, but very rarely do I ever send out a real prayer. When I do it's usually because someone else has just told me that they have been praying for me or that they need prayers, so I oblige. I know, all of this isn't very Texan of me, but there it is. I also liken telling everyone your religious views to telling everyone what you like to do in the bedroom. All of it is very personal, and none of it is anyone else's business. That being said, there is a point to confessing my praying habits. Don't worry, I'll leave my bedroom out of it.

Something else that I hardly ever do is tell complete strangers about my condition. I also most definitely do not dominate conversations with information about me. I have no need to make hostages out of the people I meet. But all bets are off if I get started on what I made for lunch or dinner. I can talk about that till you fall asleep, and with so much detail that you probably will.

This year I have been helping with the local pulmonary hypertension 5k run and 1m walk. I would tell you the name of it, but it has changed so many times that I no longer know what it is. It may be Zebra PHriends 5k Run and 1m PHun Walk. Our mascot is a purple zebra in running shoes. So many of us are first diagnosed with adult onset asthma that we need doctors to go a bit against training and instead of handing us an inhaler and sending us on our way, we need them to do the unpopular thing and schedule a possibly unnecessary test (echo). In other words, those hoof beats might be a zebra, not a horse.

We've gotten so much help with fundraising I've been a bit overwhelmed. Neither Mom nor I have asked for funds before and the experience has been terrifying and amazing. The first person we asked for money is the man who owns our favorite local Italian restaurant. He gets asked so often (the first of many times that we would hear this) and he usually turns people away, but instead he was our first donator. We were so nervous excited that my mom accidentally knocked over and broke her water glass when we got back to our table. Still not sure if maybe we should have given that gift certificate back. They shrugged it off, but I still do not recommend smashing stuff as a celebratory act after someone gives you money.

And that's how the roller coaster ride started. In a flurry of e-mails, meetings, printings, towns officially recognizing a pulmonary hypertension month, and a dinner, everything was coming together. Everything but the media.

Most of my time is spent grocery shopping, resting, napping or cooking. My group of friends is much beloved, but very small and also very far away. When the subject of getting our name publicly out into the world came up, I automatically knew that I was not going to be the person to do it. But still, I recognized the importance (HUGE!) of it, and so I prayed.  Someone with connections contacted me, but still not knowing what to do with the information, I passed it on to our group leader.  Pretty much all I was certain I could do was hope that someone else in our group would get inspired. That, and pray.

I do hope I've properly painted the picture of two women (Mom and myself) who have no idea what they are doing and who constantly feel like maybe someone else should be in charge. Even after all of our accomplishments and successes.

This morning we met with Parks and Recreation in Coppell to start finalizing our plans for race day.  Even though Mom confirmed our appointment yesterday, we were not on the books for today. We were the third ones there and if it hadn't been for the niceness of the guy who showed up after us, we would have been selected last for the day. An unexpected benefit of the lateness is that the woman on our committee who should most definitely be in charge of doing all of this organizing stuff was also able to attend.

My last right heart cath a few weeks ago was less than stellar. My orders have been to increase my flolan once a week for 6 weeks. Last year I increased 3 times total. Last night I finally had to add an extra vial to the mix. I pretty much feel retched. Leading up to the meeting and all through it my mantra was "don't hurl on the table, don't hurl on the table". Thankfully, I did not hurl on the table, but after a couple of hours my morning apple apricot sauce was gone and the particular pain and nausea that accompanies flolan is quite unique.  I either needed food or a trashcan. I haven't been to Cafe Express in a year, but it suddenly sounded like the best place ever. Amazingly we were heading right for it. Massive water pills had kicked in so when we got to our destination I about jumped out of the car for the lady's room.

If the Parks Department had seen us on time, then I would not have been so hungry when we left, my water pills would not have gone active when I was on the road, if I had gone into the restaurant with my mom instead of bolting out of the car, then I never would have met Melissa d'Arabian from the Food Network in the lady's room of Cafe Express. I wouldn't have gone with my mom to Williams Sonoma for her book signing after our lunch.  We wouldn't have taken one look at the huge line and decided to leave, we wouldn't have met the nicest cashier who I amazingly told that I would not be able to stay for the signing after all because of my heart/lung condition, and wouldn't have found out that her mom had a lung condition, I wouldn't have bought a new cookbook, or been taken to the front of the line where I had my picture taken with and had my book signed by Melissa d'Arabian, I would never have given her information on our race and pulmonary hypertension and let her know that I had been praying to meet someone that could help us get the word out about our cause, I wouldn't have been given the chance to let that nice sales lady know that I was going to pray for her, and Mom would never have wept a little in a Williams Sonoma because the whole experience was just too sweet.

I still can't believe that I met Melissa d'Arabian in a lady's room and I am extremely thankful that I did not hurl on her.