Debora.

Recently, I started pool therapy. You know how you see the elderly ladies at the YMCA doing water aerobics? Well, I am still working up to that. Mostly I do different walks with ankle weights and other resistance equipment. I practice balancing exercises. I step on and off a step/platform. I do bicycle and scissor kicks. And I watch as the elderly patients swim laps past me.

My fellow EDS friend tells everyone she is 80 years old on the inside. The same goes for me, so I guess this is why we both get along with old people so well. Having pool therapy at a place where the majority of patients are 60 years and older makes me stick out like a sore thumb. Sometimes people look at you like "Why are you here? You look perfectly healthy." While I do appreciate not looking sick, I also wish I could more easily explain my condition to others, especially the elderly, so they could understand why I don't look sick, but am.

After my second PT session, I was in the locker room attempting to undress, shower, and change clothes. An older woman sitting in the locker room thought this was a perfect time to strike up a conversation. (I really prefer to be fully dressed when talking with strangers.) The conversation went something like this...

Old lady: You're awfully young, why are you here?

Me: I have Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, it's a connective tissue disorder that affects my collagen, making my joints unstable and causing a lot of pain. I'm here to work on balance, stability, and manage pain.

Old lady: Ohh, so it is like Arthritis? I have Osteoarthritis.

Me: -Thinking to myself- No, not really. -Out loud- Yes, kind of like arthritis.

Old lady: Well this is the best thing you can do. I come several times a week. I hope you get better.

Me: -Thinking to myself- Not going to happen. -Out loud- Thank you very much, have a good day.

This is how conversations, particularly with the elderly, often go. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE talking with people, especially older people. I have tremendous respect for them and their wisdom and advice. But when it comes to medical developments and rare diseases, it's difficult to get anyone to understand.

Last PT session, I got in the pool and began my walking laps. My therapist wasn't there yet and the pool was empty aside from one woman. She came over to me and said, "Hi baby, how are you?" So welcoming and friendly. We began to chat and I soon discovered that this woman was not only sweet, but had more sass in her little finger than I have in my whole body. (If you know me well, you realize how surprising this is.) She said the funniest things, some of which I can't repeat because of the level of sassiness. Man, was she a character.

But it wasn't all funny, she had some wisdom to share as well. She asked "what I have." As I gave a quick explanation, she nodded, not in understanding, but in empathy. I asked her as well, COPD. Even though we know nothing about each other's conditions, it was as if there was this connection, simply by the fact that we are sick, we were both in PT, and as she said, "We didn't ask for this crap."

She went on to tell me not to let this disease control my life, to maintain my independence, to enjoy my good days, and push through the bad, and to never let people feel sorry for me. Most importantly, she didn't say I shouldn't feel sorry for myself or be sad because I'm sick or different. She said, "When you have a bad day and you feel sorry for yourself, you lay in bed and cry your tears, but then you dry your eyes. You get up out of bed, look yourself in the mirror, and say, 'Alright, girl. Let's go.'"

She didn't tell me I was strong, as most people do. She didn't build me up to be some sort of martyr for withstanding what I don't have a choice in. She told me to deal with it. She told be to be a big girl. She told me I'm normal.

I mentioned to her that I was heading out on a date after PT. As I emerged from the locker room, showered, hair done, and real clothes on, I heard, "Ooooh girl! You look FABULOUS." I thanked her for talking with me, told her I hoped to see her again soon, and finally remember to ask her name - Debora.

I believe that God allows people's paths to cross at just the right time. I had seen Debora at the pool several times, but we never spoke. I always felt out of place in a room of senior citizens, but really my body probably works just as well as theirs. Maybe I just need to make some older friends, that I can keep up with. Or maybe talking with Debora was a one time thing. Either way, I was encouraged by her advice, sassiness, positive attitude, and kindness.

Maybe we should all be less afraid to speak up, to say hi to stranger, to offer a smile. Sometimes the simplest of acts are so important and encouraging to others. Sometimes what you might shrug off as a small gesture is remembered for years. You never know how you might help someone, who you might be helping, or who might be helping you.