Like Mr. Smith, my first trip to Washington D.C. was an adventure. Who’s Mr. Smith, you are asking? Remember Jimmy Stewart in Frank Capra’s “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington.”
Mr. Smith’s story opens with the death of a senator. When contemplating a replacement, Hubert Hopper, the governor of some western state, appoints an unknown Boy Ranger (think Boy Scouts) leader named Jefferson Smith.
The powers that be had already selected a “dummy” replacement to keep the chair warm and not ask any questions. But Smith was appointed to the senate after the governor’s children begged him to select this patriot who could recite from the constitution. Hopper was outraged that his family turned on him until the boys reminded him that 50,000 boys belonged to the club and each had two parents.
The governor was pressured to appoint someone who would not be knowledgeable or ask questions about a bill being introduced. Smith seemed like a young and naive-enough person to fit the bill.
Passage of a bill surrounding the construction of a dam in the state would make the governor and his cronies lots of money. They had bought the surrounding land and planned to sell it for a profit before it was flooded. Yes, in the 1930s, deals were made under the table.
For fun, I had to watch it before I wrote about my adventure. Little else was similiar to the story line with the exception of needing a guide named Kayleigh from the Lung Force Advocacy Day staff to make sure I was on track with my visits to my congress people.
However, like Smith, it was a grand learning adventure.
All my flights were on time and I navigated the airports like a pro — oh, I mean a tourist. Senator Cramer was on the same two flights to DC and we spoke briefly in Minneapolis — about salsa.
We flew over the Potomac River and I met a nice young man (naturally I forgot his name) and he directed me off the plane, through the terminal full of focused travelers, and right up to the taxi stand.
Oddly enough, when I told the driver which Westin Hotel I was going to, he said “I already knew that.” How, or if, I do not have an explanation.
That evening, at a reception for advocates with lung cancer or a relative who died from lung cancer I met another nice man. We exchanged lung cancer stories and ate build-your-own pasta. I’m sure I was on my way to my room as I still tire easily when Richard Carter (I hope I got that name correct) came to my side.
I have no idea what I said, but…
He said, “Your faith is palpable.” I wasn’t sure I heard him correctly over the chatter of my peers. No one had ever said that to me and I looked up the word palpable to make sure I understood it. By the end of the conversation, he prayed for me. I’m still pondering that encounter with goosebumps.
Tuesday was training day and we were treated well. I finally met the woman who made arrangements for me to be part of Advocacy Day, Pat McKone. Her hero of the day was an oncology nurse named Jacqueline from Grand Forks. It was great fun but a very long day.
Kindly enough, Pat made reservations at Founding Fathers restaurant. It was so nice to be able to experience it. I have the cookbook.
Wednesday, we walked up Capitol Hill, which in my mind was not so much a hill, but an incline. We stood in line for 45 minutes to enter the halls of the Senate and let me tell you that those buildings have lots and lots of halls, tunnels, staircases, elevators, and people. The lunch room was so busy you had to snag a table from someone as they were preparing to leave if you wanted to sit. It was a good thing we all had turquoise on so we could play musical chairs with fellow Lung Force heroes.
I’m disappointed I did not have the opportunity to share my story with Sen. Cramer, Sen. Hoeven, and Rep. Fedorchak personally, but their interns were great listeners. I had connections with them all.
Ryan from Cramer’s office was alerted to my arrival by my friend Andrea who works for Sen. Cramer. Mara from Hoeven’s office is from Jamestown and I had to ask based on her last name if her grandmother taught school in Gackle because we had a Joyce LeFevre in elementary education (Turns out that Joyce LeFevre is her aunt-in-law, but I wonder if there wasn’t a Mr. LeFevre that in the high school grades?). I looked it up in one of my yearbooks. You can guess which decade if you must.
Sadie from Fedorchak’s office told us her grandmother had surgery for lung cancer the week before. She has my deepest sympathies for a full recovery.
I could only hope for a full recovery or at least extended life based on the many folks I met who have lived for many years with various stages of lung cancer. Which brings me to my cancer.
In addition to protecting Medicaid and the Centers for Disease Control funding, my message to the congressmen and women was simply, “Do not cut research funding. I am on a targeted therapy and once that quits working, there is nothing but a new drug or a new drug trial for me to maintain my current level of health. Don’t sign my death warrant.”
On that note, I have a brain MRI, followed by a chest CT scan on Easter Monday, so as long as I am asking, here goes.
Pray that my test results show No Evidence of Metastatic Disease, so I can continue with my commitments for the year and hopefully beyond.
Here’s to a few more chapters in my book of life and to my family and friends, may you all have a blessed Easter.
INDYchildrendotme 
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