She Lives!

Marching band season is finally over, and I survived. :) There are several things I learned in my metamorphosis as a band mom, but I won't share them with you because those of you who are my Facebook friends have already heard my pearls of wisdom, and the rest of you probably don't want to hear them. I will say that whoever said that sleep is highly overrated needs to be committed to the nuthouse.

One thing that I will share is that my son, without realizing it, took a rather artsy fartsy photo at the recent band parent night. I thought it was pretty creative, and he wasn't even trying!

I like the blurred effect and the lighting. I know it was an accident, and he wanted me to delete it, but I rather liked the photo, so I'm keeping it. :)

Oh, and in case you were wondering, my daughter's high school marching band finished second in the state, and first in their division. :) :) :)

So after all this back and forth-ing, here and there-ing, and to and fro-ing, I'm taking a quick 24 hour "mom unplugged" trip this week, flying out on the worst possible flying day (Wednesday before Turkey Day), and returning in time to put the bird in the oven. Gonna hang with a friend of mine from high school that I haven't seen in 20 years and spend the night with my cousin whom I have not seen in five years. Not sayin' where I'm going, but what ever happens there will stay there. *snort*

I reckon photos will be taken, but they will not be used as blackmail material, and they will most definitely NOT be posted here. I might, however, share them on Facebook, so if you are...ahem..."privileged" enough to be a friend of mine there, you will be able to view them and submit your derisive comments.

Meanwhile, back to the grindstone of work in the school office, not to mention a long overdue date with my manuscript.

Later daze...........

BlogBlast for Peace

I get to spend the day with hundreds of elementary and middle school children raising their voices in song. And, really, what a wonderful way to bring peace to my heart, right?

November is............

Pulmonary Hypertension Awareness Month. Do YOU know what PH is?

I wrote the following post four years ago when my blog was brand new, and though some of the details have now changed, the fact remains, this condition is incurable. I continue to make progress, and a few months ago, I added an inhaled medication that helps take some of the pressures off my heart and lungs and helps me battle the chronic fatigue. I feel reborn, but the fact remains, I am not cured.

Please, consider giving just a few dollars to help find a cure for Pulmonary Hypertension. The life you save might be mine.....or your own.

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Diagnosis

As I write this, I'm sitting at my living room window, watching the leaves flutter gently on the Australian bottle tree in my front yard, bees buzzing the honeysuckle plants, and the sunlight playing cat and mouse tricks with the lantana. I think about how quickly this year has passed, unable to comprehend that my children are already three months into the school year and that winter break is only a few weeks away.

Two (now 6) years ago, I remember sitting at this same window gazing outside and wondering why I couldn't walk down the block to the mailbox without feeling as if an elephant was planted on my chest, forcing me to gasp for a simple breath. Just months earlier I was doing 45 minute workouts at the YMCA four times per week, and within weeks I couldn't walk a half a city block.

Two (now 6) years ago, I sat in my family practitioner's office, begging for answers as to why my chest hurt so bad just because I had walked from my car into his office. I remember lying on the exam table of the hospital while they ran numerous tests to determine if I had suffered a heart attack. I remember thinking that I was so stupid for not taking better care of myself when heart disease and diabetes are as much of a part of my family genetics as are dark skin and slanted eyes.

For months I struggled to catch my breath, with fatigue, and with crushing chest pain. Still, I gamely went about my duties as a wife, mother, church volunteer, and friend. My family practitioner prescribed asthma medication, told me that there was nothing else wrong with me, but recommended I consult a pulmonologist and perhaps a hematologist (since my blood tests seem to indicate some "oddities") just to be safe.

I remember mentioning to my rheumatologist, as he was administering cortisone shots in my wrists to help with my carpal tunnel syndrome, that I was having trouble breathing without pain and no one seemed to know what was wrong with me. He asked me to describe all of my symptoms, and he dutifully noted them all in my chart, despite it not being part of his treatment. Solemnly, he took out a piece of paper, wrote something down, folded the paper, and handed it to me. He told me not to look at it but to keep it tucked away for future reference. "I have an idea of what might be wrong with you, but I hope I'm wrong. Consult the pulmonologist, have him run the tests, and then when he's made his diagnosis, look at this paper and see what it says."

Six months later, after two heart catheterizations, two echocardiograms, and a full lung capacity test, I looked at that little slip of paper. It said "Pulmonary Hypertension" -- the same diagnosis I had received from my pulmonologist and the cardiologist. I sobbed.

Sixteen months have passed (now five years and three months) since I was diagnosed with Ideopathic Pulmonary Arterial Hypertension. It is a rare disease, affecting approximately 100,000 worldwide. It is progressive and potentially life-threatening. The arteries that feed blood from the heart to the lungs become compressed, restricting blood flow and oxygen distribution to the lungs. The blood backs up to the right side of the heart, causing it to become enlarged. Death occurs when the patient suffers right heart failure. There is no cure for PH, only treatment. Luckily for me, treatment options number in the handful; 10 years ago, the only option was death.

Additionally, I was diagnosed with Protein S Deficiency, an even more rare condition. A lack of Protein S means that my blood clots much too easily. Until I became "therapeutic" on anticoagulants, I was required to go to the hospital weekly to have phlebotomies, or blood-letting sessions in order to help thin my blood. After about six weeks of this, I no longer needed to go for my weekly "leeching" sessions.

Today, I am stable on my PH medications. In addition to an anticoagulant, I take a vasodilator to help "open up" my arteries (now, 2 - one oral, one inhaled), an endothelin receptor antagonist (endothelin is a natural chemical in the body that tightens (constricts) blood vessels and increases inflammation), a diuretic, and potassium. I also use an asthma inhaler as needed, a necessary component in my purse these mild winter days when our air is filled with pollutants.

Although I have a handicapped tag on my car, I refuse to let this disease define who and what I am. I continue to live my life as I did before my diagnosis -- no, that's not quite true. Since my diagnosis, a few things have changed. I pray more, I laugh more, I sing more, and I write more. I hug my kids more, kiss my husband more, and tell my friends I love them more often. Some days I spend sitting in bed, conserving the paltry energy I have that given day, and other days I'm in my fifth-grader's class helping 10-year-olds master the intricacies of persuasive writing. (Now I volunteer 2-4 hours three times weekly in the grade school office. I have not spent a day in bed in months.)

I share my story today because it's what writers do, they write and share. It's what I need to do because November is Pulmonary Hypertension Awareness month, and you all need to know that if it could happen to me, that one in a million, it could happen to someone you love. And I share it because today I woke up, breathing and alive, and I am so very grateful that I did.

If you'd like to know how you can help, please visit The Pulmonary Hypertension Association. I thank you in advance for your support.