POTS: Her Extraordinary

“When their normal is her extraordinary it’s a very, very precious moment. I know your heart tonight precious friend… It’s full. ♥” – HB

 

This is all so new.  It’s just been 24-hours since she stood, put her arms out, and broke down crying.  Just 24-hours since that walk to the mailbox and that moment when her little sister saw her walking circles around her, dropped the basketball, screamed, and ran inside to tell the others.  She was reserved, thinking may be it would just be a fluke, that today would be different.  But it’s not.

There are so many things that POTS stole away.  We didn’t realize how much.  Today when I took her to the salon to get her hair done, we didn’t have to squeeze through the door together.  She walked to the seat alone and when it was over and I was paying, I handed her the keys and she was able to go out to the car by herself instead of standing there waiting for me.  I’m so used to her taking my arm for stability.  It’s both wonderful and strange now that she doesn’t need that.

In some ways we’re still in shock.  I think over the days to come we’ll get used to this normal which should’ve been normal all along.

Today.  She walked into that hair salon beautiful and confident.  After 2 hours, 4 stylists, and 48 bobby pins she walked out with the stunning up-do she’d dreamed of for this moment – a moment she didn’t think she’d have.

Just days ago I’d asked her if she’d talked to her date about her illness.  I asked her if she’d though about dancing – how she’d dance, if she’d hold onto him or bring her walker.  “Not everyone dances the whole time,” she said.  She was avoiding the issue, hoping to just go and have fun regardless.  She didn’t think she’d dance at all.tmsIMG_2373

Today.  A young man came to the door and slipped a corsage around her wrist as she stood.  They posed for pictures, turned, and then walked to his car.  He offered his arm and she took it because she wanted to, not because she had to. We followed for pictures where the group would meet and I watched her among her peers. She looked nervous, but no one would have known but me.  And I was nervous for her.  This wasn’t just prom.  It was a first for so many things.  The first prom.  The first high school dance.  The first time driving off with a boy behind the wheel.  The first time in too long that she wasn’t dependent on someone else to get somewhere.

At 9:13pm I got a text from her teacher.

“She looks stunning this evening.  I think she is having a good time.”

I relaxed a little.  At 11:10, another text:

“I just left and she is still on the dance floor.  So fantastic!!!!”

And the tears came.  My girl is dancing!  This is the girl who danced for years, my beautiful ballerina who wore her toe shoes in her senior pictures because though she couldn’t dance, she still identified with it. Ballet is part of her and she’s wanted so much to start again, but there was POTS and a dizziness that wouldn’t let go.  There was so much “can’t” and so few “can.”

And now she’s dancing at her senior prom.

I feel like I’m rambling now.  My head is such a mix of emotions and my heart is jumbled with it.  Full, excited, yet holding back.  The road isn’t over.

My dear friend summed it up best in a FB wall post:

“When their normal is her extraordinary it’s a very, very precious moment. I know your heart tonight precious friend… It’s full. ♥” – HB

And it is. So full. I’m so happy.

God is good.

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