It is Official

I just got the news...I am 'ON THE LIST'.
So what does that mean?  Beats me.  I just know this is the point I was praying for.
We will figure out the next step tomorrow!
Thank you, thank you all

 

The Little Brat

"The Little Brat that Grew Up"

 by N.S. Miller

 

Daughter, Wife, Mother of Two Boys,  Mother-in-Law, Thrift Store Fanatic, Usher at Bass Hall, Aunt, Friend to Everyone She Meets, Sister, Retired School Librarian, Middle Child, Lover of Children's Books, Teacher of the Year, Queen of the Scholastic Book Fair Extravaganza 

 

Yeah, there are a lot of things you know about Lynda Bishop.  But, there are a few things nobody ever talks about anymore.

 

She was a tattle-tale.  As far as little sisters go (yeah, believe it or not, she is younger!), she was the brattiest. She ‘borrowed’ clothes without asking. She would sneak in and play with my make-up.  My shoes disappeared with no explanation.   And if I had friends over?  Oh, my.  She always thought she had to join us.  There was no privacy.  And of course, we don’t want to talk about what she did when a boyfriend showed up.  She could get by with anything and believed in the “easier to ask forgiveness than permission” theory. She even got to shave her legs at a younger age than I was when I got to shave mine (And why?  Because she didn't ask permission!).  Between Lynda and our brother David, they got to do everything. (Well, Mom and Dad might think I am exaggerating a little bit here.)

 

But let me tell you the rest of the story.  She grew up.  And now …

If you are ever stressed, upset, concerned, going through a bad time, call me for Lynda’s  number.  

If you ever need someone to make you laugh, Lynda can do that.

If you ever need someone to realize you are taking yourself way too seriously, oh, can Lynda do that.

If you just need to cry, Lynda lets you cry for a little while and before you know it, the tears turn to laughter.

If you need someone to talk FOR you, Lynda is an expert at that.

If you don’t remember what the doctor said during that consultation, Lynda took notes and she can look it up for you.

If you need a strong friend who’s got your back, Lynda can do that too.

If you want a funny story, get Lynda to tell it.  She can find 'funny' everywhere she goes, no matter what she is doing.
And if you need someone to bounce your new blog idea off of, decide whether it's appropriate to say something and then proof read it?  Oh yes, email it to Lynda.  For fairly apparent reasons, she didn't get to put her seal of approval on this one.  Hope it's not two obvious (tee hee).

 

She can always make Daddy laugh.  She helps take some of the stress off of Mom.  She has a way of seeing what needs to be done even when I can’t tell her.  She has a way of fitting in with any kind of a group. She can find the perfect song for every occasion (now do you really think singing "Big Girls Don't Cry" was appropriate during my terrible horrible painful blood test?).

 

My hubby Don compares Lynda to Bounty .... 'the quicker picker-upper".
 

Yup, that’s my sister.  I hope I made you cry, Little Sister!!!  I will love you forever.

Best. Christmas. EVER.

Best.  Christmas.  EVER.

I don’t have any presents under my Christmas tree.  But it’s the best Christmas EVER.  As in EVER in my very whole life.  That’s saying a LOT because I have had some very incredible Christmases.  But have you ever tried to wrap a prayer?  How about wrapping thousands of prayers?  How about wrapping up support, friendship, encouragement?  I quit trying to find a box big enough.

To top it all off, I have to tell you about Josh, my nephew, and his wife Emily.  This is the text they sent my sister Lynda: “We don’t mean to be morbid and please don’t take it that way.  We were just talking and wanted it in writing that if something were to happen on the way home, or really any time before Nancy gets new lungs, that we would want either of our lungs to go to her if compatible.” 

I mean, really .... how could I ever find a way to wrap that up?

Oh yes. BEST. CHRISTMAS. EVER.

It's A YES ... almost!

It's a YES. Y.E.S.

(Well, It is an almost yes. We have to wait on the actual printed pathology report from 2 procedures before my name goes on the actual list but both doctors have assured me everything looks fine. Just a technical issue that might be resolved as early as Friday. Either way, the committee said yes, so that's what we are calling it. So, therefore......)

YES is my new favorite word. YES brought with it a flood of tears. YES brought a level of feelings that are new to me. YES brought a whole new round of questions. YES made me start new lists of things I want to get done....and a new round of lists for Don to go along with it. YES helped clarify a future that was somewhat vague and uncertain. Oh yeah, I'm liking my YES.

I wanted to have a little blurb written and ready to go when I got my YES. But when I tried to get it written down before I got my YES, I realized I didn't know how I would respond or how I would feel. I couldn't do it.

But then when the YES came, I had only been out of anesthesia for about 30 minutes. So how did I feel? I cried. Like any self respecting drugged up woman would do. And it was The Ugly Cry. Yup, that was the one. I mean, what else is a girl to do?

How do I explain the feelings? Overwhelmed. Humbled. Amazed. Those same feelings I had a couple of weeks ago. But they are different. They are deeper. They aren't so anxious. All this poking, prodding, pushing, pulling (I didn't know they would 'squeeze' too!) I was expecting? Yup, they did it. ALL 8 days of it. Everywhere. Every day. But it is all over. And I am going home. To my bed. To my cuddle duds. And to sleeping late!

But, how does this really feel? Joyous in a subdued kind of way. Overwhelmed in a humongous kind of way. Grateful in an unimaginable kind of way. We are going into uncharted territory. I feel like Star Trek, 'where no man has gone before'.

So ready or not, you great unknown world, here we come! I sure hope you know what you've gotten yourself in to!!!

Don is praying for:
1. New Year's Day, in the hospital, sleeping on a crummy chair next to my hospital bed
2. No more carting all my oxygen supplies around
3. Some home cooked meals
4. His tractor driver back!

But above all, we are just saying thank you. Our prayers are prayers of gratitude.

The picture is just a very few of those incredible prayer warriors.

Who, ME? Anxious?

Am I Anxious?

Well, actually, I am starving (clear liquids all day and the stomach is talking to me).  But anxious?  Do I admit it?  Guess I have to. I would like to say I'm excited.  And maybe if it was just another stick of a needle instead of a colonoscopy, I would be feeling different.

Reality is, I do feel totally confident.  But I feel anxious too.  Now how can that be?  I keep trying to define my feelings but it is just not happening.  So maybe it's just time to say Good Night.

Don and I do have one request tonight.  The ultimate perfect day would end with me being on the transplant list.  A LOT of things have to work perfectly, but whatever the outcome, I have total trust in the One who is in control. 

Merry Christmas to ALL....and to all a Good Night.

Deceptively Sick?

Deceptively Sick?

The thoracic surgeon says "You are deceptively sick" and the patient replies "YES!!! I DID it!!!"

Let me explain.  All along I have worked very hard to keep my head buried in the sand (think ostrich) about what is really going on.  And even on the days when I was obviously not having a 'good' day (you know, like on days when I couldn't breathe?), I took great pride in trying to look like I was doing good, act like I was doing good, I wanted to BE good, and well, maybe I was even trying to fake everyone out (I was so sure no one could tell).

However ... The surgeon that WILL be doing my transplant (yes, we are thinking positive), came in for the consult, looked at my MRI, looked at me, looked back at the MRI, looked at me, then asked me to stand up.  I then did that in a 'very perky manner', according to him.  He pushed on my chest from the front and the back at the same time and said in a somewhat astonished voice "You're not moving any air."  So he pushed again, took a step back and said "You are not moving ANY air!!!"  He got the stethoscope out and listened.  And then, says the surgeon, "You are deceptively sick."  He validated me!  I haven't been faking it, there really IS a problem!!   Earth to Nancy... yup, there is a problem. 

So what do I do with this turn of events?  Do I get to act like I am sick now?  Like I have a disease that will require a new set of lungs?  Like I can't fix dinner anymore? Maybe I can't even do laundry...whaddya think?  Don has done it all before (and he's really good at it) so what's the big deal?  Or maybe I just keep on pushing until the day we get that phone call that says "come and get these precious lungs we have reserved especially for you". 

I've got it...my head is going back in the sand, where it belonged all this time.

 

And in the meantime, my prayer requests:

1.  Safe travel for Don and I to Dallas on Sunday and that the procedures on Monday and on Tuesday aren't too terrible awful.

2.  That the committee is in a GREAT mood on Tuesday and says YES!

3.  As always, that the family that gives life to me can be comforted. 

Avalanche

 

The Avalanche

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Amazed.  Humbled.  Overwhelmed. 

What do those words even mean? 

 

I could quote Webster's definition.  But that doesn't do it. Those words can't

convey the depth of emotions I feel.

I have used those words daily this week but I just realized that nothing,

absolutely nothing, can define the depth of feelings that are behind those
words. The support I have received feels like an avalanche has started and it
just keeps accelerating .... and I have lost control. I am that little rock at
the top that just pushed one tiny snow flake out of my way and everything came
tumbling down.

And ME ... doing a blog?  How preposterous. I just wanted a way to ask for prayers.

Well, social media here I am, amateur blog and all.  But it has reconnected me
with people from 40, well ok, 50 years ago. Now how uncanny is that?  Dear
friends, I just know that prayers DO work ... and I covet those prayers.   So I
googled  'How To Do A Blog' and step by step, here we are.

Specifically, my prayer requests this week:

1.  I want to go to the committee on Tuesday ...

It will be a challenge to get all the testing done that is required, but I
am being rather pushy about that. I think they have nicknamed me 'Nagging
Nancy'. The  committee only meets once per week and I want to be in that
presentation before the holidays. They look through all my tests and make
the determination as to whether I qualify to be the recipient of someone's
precious lungs.  Hurdles keep popping up in unexpected places, but so far,
we have been able to jump them all. 

2.  I want a yes from that committee ...

I am at a stage where anything other than yes will be terrifying, so all we
think about is a  Y.E.S.

3.  I want to remember ...

I want to always remember the family that will be heartbroken.


Thank you ALL for your thoughts and prayers....
Nancy

 

Reality Check

 

Reality Check

Day One of the pre-transplant work-up is over. I’m already overwhelmed.  But more than what is in store for me, I think there is a new level of understanding about the life so many others have to live. With what I have always perceived as a somewhat ‘normal’ life, how could I have been so clueless about what so many others go through?  There is a whole world out there that doesn’t have this luxury of ‘normal’.

They haven’t started poking, prodding, pushing or pulling yet…and I am still speechless at how life is going to be different for me.  Make no mistake…I will take this life over no life at all.  It’s just going to be different.  I’m going to have to make different choices, different decisions, take different routes than I would have previously chosen.  Like, choosing vegetables over a chocolate cookie? Steak always having to be cooked at least medium well done?  Why bother?  And eggs can’t be sunny side up?  However will I do it?  And what has Don really signed up for?  He has said he will do whatever I have to do.  Oh, my, he REALLY needs the prayers! 

After the response from my fist blog, I am reminded that this journey will be easy because of all the support I have.  What do people do that don’t have the luxury of masses of people praying for them, holding their hand, sending them encouraging words, sending offers of assistance?  Oh my. I. Am. Truly. Blessed. And I thank you.

I start the poking, prodding, pushing and pulling part next week.  I am NOT holding my breath in anticipation.

 

 

(I usually pull the plug out of my nose before taking a picture - surely that's not vanity - but this is my real world right now, so it stayed in.  I wanted to look back and remember life BEFORE my new lungs!!)

Sit It Out or Dance

Sit It Out or Dance

A few of you may remember the email I sent out 5½ years ago:

February 16, 2009:  the words I wanted most to hear were “You qualify for lung transplants.”

July 16, 2009:  the words I heard were “You do NOT qualify for lung transplants ….. because you do not need them.”

The journey since 2009 has been truly blessed.   But now, December, 2014, I have again been told that it is time.  And this time, I am ready.

What exactly is that going to look like?  First, I will spend a week in Dallas being poked, pushed, prodded, and pulled. Then I wait for the words “You qualify”. 

The next step?  Easy.  We wait.  Patiently?  Uh … really?  Pleading with God?  Stressed? Thanking God?  Obsessed?  (Looks like God and I may need some time on my tractor.)  Or maybe I’ll just think about that tomorrow.

And then when the call comes that they have lungs for me? I go. So simple. I just go. And I make sure Don doesn't let go of my hand. That’s it.  The rest is up to everyone else.  Especially God.   

I have to quit thinking about the fact that someone had to die.  I quit thinking about how my body didn’t hold up quite like I expected.  I quit thinking this only happens to other people, right?  I quit thinking that this might involve a little bit of pain.  I quit thinking that I didn’t 

show Don where all the passwords are. I quit thinking of all the things I haven’t said to those I love.  

During this journey, I have kept a folder on my computer desktop labeled ‘My Blessings’.  Random things get put in there, but when I started looking back through it, I found this 

blurb I was thinking back in  2008: 
 

‘I Hope You Dance’ has to be my new theme song.  I may not be dancing right now, but I CAN be laughing, I CAN be finding things to be happy about, I CAN be encouraging others, I CAN be full of love for the people I have in my life.  I AM in love with this song.
 

Here are some of the words to this song because, again, it seems so appropriate:
 

“I Hope You Dance” sung by Lee Ann Womack

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder

You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger

May you never take one single breath for granted

God forbid love ever leave you empty handed

I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean

Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens

Promise me that you’ll give faith a fighting chance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance

 

I hope you dance

I hope you dance

So where do you, my dear friends, fit in on this journey?
 

1.      Are you an organ donor?  If not, sign up NOW.  Right now!  Go to organdonor.gov.  NOW!  Trust me, though… I don’t want YOUR lungs!

2.      Pray first that I hear the words “You Qualify”.  Then please ask God to bless me with a peaceful spirit.

3.      But especially, pray for the family that will be heart-broken when I get the call that I have new lungs waiting for me.  My celebration coming at someone else’s loss is quite overwhelming for me.
 

“I can be full of love for the people I have in my life” …. And I am and I say thank you.

Nancy 

PS…Dance lessons next summer anyone??