Breathing through a Straw (Run 4 Jens, Part 2)

(Originally published on 4/26/14 on cotaforjensh.com)

In honor of the Nashville Marathon this morning, I thought it would be fitting to share the story of our sweet friend, Emily Huff, who is training for a marathon. As she trains, she is praying intentionally for us on our journey. (See the last blog post for more about Emily.) 

She did this simulation at the beginning of April. Things were hectic for us in Nashville, as we packed daily and I prepared to end my teaching year early. Jens had just gotten out of the hospital from the reaction he had to the Reclast injection. In our minds, the moving date was drawing near, as we prepared to leave a city we called home for 10 years. We were exhausted. We were stressed. We were emotional. We were breathing through straws.

Here’s more from Emily’s run: 

I was at a lacrosse game for Taylor a couple of weeks ago talking to the dad of one of Taylor’s teammates. He happens to be a pulmonary doctor so I asked him if he could help me understand what it is like for someone to have CF. He told me that it is like breathing through a straw. 

I’ve heard this before but this time it stuck in my head, and I could not stop thinking about it. When I went on a few training runs last week, I imagined what it would be like to breathe through a straw and then decided that I would give it a shot this week on one of my shorter runs. 

So, I headed out the door with a straw in hand when I took the kids to school this morning and parked my car near some trails by UW (University of Washington) campus. I figured that I would not run into that many people who would question my sanity for running with a straw sticking out of my mouth. 

I started with the idea that I would run 4 miles breathing in and out through the straw, but as I ran the first 5 minutes this way, I realized that this was not going to be a good idea. I did not want to black out from a lack of oxygen during this simulation so I compromised and set some goals. I started with ten breaths and then went to eleven, then to twelve, and so on until I got to twenty breaths in and out through the straw. I tried not to breathe through my nose during this time (which was funny because I have a bit of a stuffy nose from spring allergies) so it sounded like I was snoring sometimes while I was trying to breathe through the straw. 

It was hard to find a breathing rhythm as it took some concentration to exhale and inhale without doing it too fast while trying to reach the goal of the number of breaths that I was trying to reach during each interval. After each of these intervals, I would take a DEEP breath and fill my lungs with air. It has never felt so good. I’ve done simulations before like this- being blindfolded for a period of time to imagine what it would be like to be blind, trying to use sign language to imagine being deaf, using a wheelchair for part of a day to put myself in someone’s place who is confined to a chair and to understand accessibility concerns and issues, etc. Today, my run brought CF closer to home and made me realize how much I take for granted when I take each breath during a day without a second thought.  

Jens, being that you are my only friend whom I know who has CF, this is all new to me to really try to understand what it is like. As I mentioned, I’ve heard this analogy before about CF being like breathing through a straw. While I have tried to imagine what it is like to be breathing at 16% lung capacity, I had never actually felt what it was like to run with such a limited amount of breathing until today. 

Jens, I marvel at the way you take this in stride. And, Abby- while you yourself do not have CF, it seems that there is so much on your plate right now that it must feel like you too are breathing through a straw too. You both are trying to get enough air to breathe, to tackle another day, to put one foot in front of the other. 

It made me pray hard for you, Jens, for your new lungs. I want so badly for you to be able to breathe effortlessly—without breathing treatments and without being hooked up to oxygen. I so want you to be able to fill your lungs with air, to take a deep breath with ease, and to live your life. And with God’s help, I know that’s possible. 

I know in my heart of hearts that with God, nothing is impossible. Some people may say to me. “You don’t know the meaning of the word “can’t”, do you?” 

Maybe I don’t. 

And you don’t. 

And God doesn’t either.