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Thursday, September 5, 2013

Grab a Tissue


I am not a sniffly, weepy woman (unless Beaches or The Color Purple are on)--especially in public but when I saw this...extended commercial (?) for The Cleveland Clinic, tears welled up in my eyes. I even got that burning knot in my throat that forms right before the flood gates open and I was not in the privacy of my home.  I am not sure if it is because of what I've dealt with health wise over the last few years or if it's because of it's beautiful message but something about it really got me.

I'll confess that I went in for a test earlier this week to see how all these meds I'm on are impacting my PAH. I fully expected a miraculous and glowing report. I mean, last year, I could barely walk 100 feet without feeling faint and now I am running (RUNNING!!) so I knew I would get stellar news. That's logical, right? Well, things didn't turn out that way. My numbers are better but they are not where my doctor wanted them to be. She increased one of my medications and we'll see how my numbers look in a few months.

I'm grateful to God for getting me to such a better place physically (and in all honesty, mentally) than I was this time last year but, this girl wasn't prepared for the "meh" response from the doctor. Of course, I also have to acknowledge that I haven't been as disciplined with one medication as I should be because life gets in the way. I've gotten past that in recent months but maybe too late for it to help with this week's test. Hopefully, the next report will be that glowing one I was hoping for this time around.

Hmmm...that felt kinda good to get off of my chest. I've been playing this to everyone--including myself--as good news because the numbers were "better" than last year but in truth, I had nothing in my system at the time of the last test so anything would be "better." And quite frankly, it better be better after spending thousands of dollars on medication. Thanks for letting me process...but I digress.

As I gathered my feelings and walked out of the hospital with my phone in one hand and Asher's hand in the other, I noticed people milling about the hospital a little more than I did on the way in. I said little prayers for people I could see struggling and wondered about those that seemed fine. I thought that to the outside world, I could be one of those people who seem fine.

The point is a face rarely shows a story. We all have something bubbling under the surface that makes us who we are. It's what we wish people could see before they make up their minds that we fit in a certain box and treat us accordingly.

         

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