Back in the saddle again

 

 

Tonight was kind of a big night for me.  It was the first time in the almost two weeks since my bike accident that I wasn't in pain.  There was discomfort, but thanks to the medication my doctor gave me there wasn't any severe pain.  So when I got off work at midnight I decided it was time to pack up the bike and go for a training ride.

 

So I did....and I was scared.  I'm talking hands shaking, legs quivering scared.

 

My fear took me by surprise.  I'm not use to being scared, not that it never happens, but it's pretty rare.  I use to be a police officer and although I was always cautious I don't ever remember being really scared.  I have literally run into a house that was on fire...okay, it was a small fire, but there were still flames...and I didn't hesitate, not for a moment.  Had major surgery to donate an organ...no fear.  I handle life and death situations every single day at work and never bat an eye....

 

But as I pulled my bike off it's rack I was SCARED.

 

I don't think it was because of the accident I was in a couple weeks ago. It may have left me a little battered and bruised, but I've had much worse injuries from accidents.

 

I had a couple false starts, mostly because I was shaking so badly I was afraid I'd fall again, but eventually I took a deep breath, said a prayer and just rode.

 

Once I let go of the fear I was able to enjoy my ride. It wasn't anything major, just five miles of circling a nearby school's parking lot...but it was five miles with bruised ribs and a torn pectoral muscle...so I think that's a good start.

 

I didn't push myself, as soon as the discomfort in my chest turned to real pain I packed up the bike...but I had a huge grin on my face all the way home.  I was scared, but I over came my fear. I was uncomfortable, but I rode anyway.  It was a great feeling.

 

After a little soul searching I think the fear was more of the unknown. What if I couldn't ride? What if the pain was too much? What if I crashed again and injured myself more seriously? What if I end up not being able to train and am not prepared for the Ride to Cure Diabetes?

 

I'm not scared anymore.  A little nervous...okay, a LOT nervous, because the doc said it will be 4-6 weeks before the pain from the torn muscle goes away. That means 4-6 weeks before I can ride long distances again, but that's okay. All I can do is all I can do.

 

If giving 100% means only riding 10% of what I was able to ride before my accident, then I'll have to be satisfied with that...at least for now.  The important thing is that I'm back on bike and giving my all.

 

Today 5 miles...the next time I'll shoot for 7 miles...I'll increase a little more each ride until I'm back where I was.

 

Slow and steady wins the race.

 

 



Happy Birthday Baby

Sometimes, if you're very, very lucky, a person will come into your life who loves you unconditionally, someone who really does adhere to their vow of "for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live"

I'm one of those lucky people

I've known Milton since I was 11 years old...more than 2/3's of my life.  Perhaps that's why he's able to deal with all my idiosyncrasies so well...he watched them develop over the years.

My husband is a special man, he has a pure heart and honorable intentions. I have seen him literally give someone the coat off his back and his last dollar because the person needed it more.  He sincerely cares about every other person on this earth more than he cares about himself...and he cares about our family most of all.

When we married my children became OUR children. He could not love them more if he were their biological father.  I remember the tears in his eyes the first time DJ called him "Dad" or the pride in his face when he showed me the first card Brandi had addressed to Dad.  Being a father is a big deal to him...as it should be to all fathers, and he takes the job very seriously.

Milton and I are very different. I'm a typical Type A personality who is always going 100 miles a minute, and rarely sleeps.  If he were any more laid back he'd be asleep.

I believe pre-packaged food is poison in a box...he spent most of his adult life happily eating the stuff...and still does if I'm not around to feed him properly.  I'm loud...he's quiet, I live by the clock...he doesn't.  I try to be kind...he actually IS. 

I'm going to be honest, there is nothing I have done in my life that makes me deserving of this man.  I've never had a man love me unconditionally, to stand firmly next to me even when he doesn't completely understand why I'm doing something.  Not in a "whipped" kind of way, but in the way a loving husband shows honor and support of his wife. 

We just celebrated our 8th "secret" wedding anniversary.  We both had our own idea of the perfect wedding...I wanted to elope and he wanted the big traditional wedding...Milton won.

We were in full planning mode for the big event when I became sick.  Five more tumors were found where my ovaries use to be and I was scared to death.  I offered him an easy out, a chance to walk away with no hard feelings, but he said he'd been waiting 20 years to marry me and he wasn't about to walk away now.  So we flew to Las Vegas, got married, had dinner, then came home the next day...with only a handful of people knowing what we were doing.  Then 5 months later we got married again in front of our friends and family.

Sometimes I make him crazy...sometimes he makes me crazy...but we work through it, because at the end of the day we are both committed to this marriage.  It's a bit unusual, but it works...and we both agree that we're in it for life.

Today is Milton's birthday and I won't be home to share it with him because of my work schedule. I'm sure he'll enjoy the day with Bella and other family members. I have my own surprise planned for him on our next day off together.

I love you Milton, I may not always show it, but it's true. You are one of the greatest blessings in my life and I am honored to be your wife.

Happy Birthday baby

Last Words

In my line of work I deal with a lot of death...and a LOT of angry people. People who say horrible things to  their loved ones.  Sometimes they're deserved, most often they're not, and when I hang up the phone I always wonder... "What if those are the last words you ever say to that person?"

I never leave for work without telling my family I love them. I never hang up the phone without telling those in my life how much they mean to me.  I always keep in mind that it may be the last words I say to them.

As I watched the destruction caused by the tornadoes in Oklahoma I wondered how many people were regretting yelling at their children to hurry up for school that morning, or how many now widowed people were regretting the stupid argument over breakfast. 

My daughter brought the issue home to me this afternoon when I asked where she was going as she started to walked out the door.  Instead of a simple answer I was informed that she was 23 years old and she didn't have to tell me where she was going and I was driving her CRAZY asking her where she was going every time she walked out the door. 

I had about a dozen snippy comebacks pop into my head - none of them very nice -  but I bit my tongue because I always think about last words.  I wondered how Brandi would feel if she came home and found me dead of a heart attack, or how I'd feel if she was in a car accident, and I didn't want the last words I said to be her to be venomous and filled with anger

Then I sat on the couch and had a good cry because IF something had happened to her I'd always remember the the pain of last words she said.

I think sometimes people forget that it's not okay to be rude, sarcastic or hateful to those you love.  It astounds me that they'll be smiley and polite to a complete stranger, but they're complete assholes to the people they love most. Not that I'm an angel...I've had some pretty harsh parting words come out of my mouth, words I've regretted later.

I know the theory about people feeling "safe" enough to vent their anger towards their loved ones, even when it's undeserving, because they know the person will still love them.

I'm calling bullshit on that one.

While the theory may be true -a parent will always love their child- when someone you love says hurtful things while they're lashing out,  the pain runs deeps and stays with you for a long time.  We D-Moms and Dads are quick to forgive when our child's blood sugars are out of whack, but the words still sting...a LOT.

My heart aches for all those who lost their loved ones in in Oklahoma, but I'll be saying extra prayers of peace for those whose last words to their lost loved one were harsh.

You can't cure a klutz!

I'm a klutz.

As a matter of fact I could be the poster girl for klutziness.  My dad use to say I didn't walk so much as fall in a continual forward motion, which is actually a pretty accurate statement.

Worse than being a klutz, I'm a klutz who's always dreamed of being athletic.  Dumb, very dumb...but a girl's gotta dream.

I've broken my arm four times rollerskating (a total of 8 actual breaks) but didn't have enough sense to stop skating until I broke my arm (in two places) AND my tailbone.  Broken tailbones hurt...a lot...for a VERY long time.

I've broken fingers playing soft ball, jammed joints playing volleyball, put a hole in my leg riding a dirt bike, got a fractured foot from walking...that's right...WALKING....and more concussions, bumps, scrapes, and sprains than I can remember. I even broke my ankle walking down the aisle in an airplane (not completely my fault - there was a lot of turbulence!)

Last night was my latest mishap.  I got off work at 2 am and decided to do my Ride to Cure training.  I was a bit out of sorts...ticked off actually, due to my interaction with one of the most hostile and obscene 9-1-1 caller's I've ever had the displeasure of speaking with (which is a totally different story that I won't get into.)

Anyway, it was a beautiful night and I needed to ride, but it was a bit overcast and darker than usual so I decided instead of riding the streets of Kimmswick I would visit the parking lot of a local business and just do laps.  And I did....LOTS of laps...5 miles worth of laps..and then I hit the road, wondering if I could ride all the way into town. 

I did and it was a fabulous!

With the wind blowing in my face, music playing through my ear buds and nary a car in sight I was in heaven.  Relaxed and at one with Bart the Bike we rode without a care in the world, the stress of the night melting away and the soothing feeling of peace and contentment finding its way into every fiber of my being. I didn't worry about speed, I didn't worry about distance...I just rode and enjoyed my bliss.

When my thoughts were interrupted by my ride app telling me I'd ridden 10 miles I pulled into a gas station and refilled my water bottle.  I chatted a few moments with the clerk then headed back to my vacant parking lot.  I knew I wasn't suppose to ride more than 10 miles but I didn't care. My foot felt fine, my breathing was fine, I wasn't tired and I was really enjoying myself...so I decided I'd ride another hour and see if I could hit 20 miles, and even as I set the goal I knew I could reach it with no problem...I was in "the zone" enjoying the best ride I've ever had.

I continued with my laps around the parking lot, moving at a fairly good pace, thinking about the celebratory post I would make on Facebook when I completed my 20 mile ride, then suddenly a opossum ran directly in front of my bike. I swerved, missing the animal but then over corrected and off the bike I flew, landing hard on the pavement.

I lay there for several minutes, catching my breath and doing a silent inventory.  Conscious, alert, breathing a little rapid... but that's to be expected.  Heart pounding, but no chest pain.  Can I move my arms...yes...legs...yes. Any pain?..a little, but nothing horrible.  I slowly sat up, feeling a bit shaky, but was soon on my feet.  "Okay," I told myself, "walk it off."

After a couple minutes I decided I wasn't really hurt and could finish my ride, however when  I tried to mount my bike a sharp, excruciating pain hit me in my rib area.  I stood for a moment, catching my breath and decided perhaps I shouldn't finish my ride but go home and stand in a hot shower instead.

I tried to get on my bike once more to ride it across the street to my car but again the horrible pain hit, literally stealing my breath from me and leaving me physically shaking. I'd felt that same pain before when I cracked a rib a few years ago, and I knew in that moment I needed to go to the hospital.

Brandi and Elma had both sent me text less than 30 minutes earlier so after calling Brandi and getting no answer I called Elma and asked if she could take me to the hospital. Then I started the long (okay, it was actually pretty short, but it SEEMED long) walk with my bike back to my car.

While waiting for Elma I called my sleeping husband to tell him about my latest boo boo, assuring him I was fine but needed to get a couple of x-rays taken just to make sure nothing was broken.  He wanted to come get me, but I told him Elma would be there any second, promised to keep him updated, and urged him to go back to sleep.  Brandi also called me and offered to come to the hospital, but I knew hours of sitting in the hospital's chairs would kill her back.

So after Elma secured Bart on his bike rack we were off to the emergency room.

At the hospital the nurse looked at me like I was crazy when I told her how I'd been hurt (I think because it was the middle of the night) but once I explained my schedule and how I have to train whenever I can squeeze an hour or two in...and why I was training she understood. 

This particular nurse had treated Brandi many times over the last three years and remembered her well...as did the doctor.  They understood the importance of the Ride to Cure for me, they had lived the drama with us and had watched me sit next to her unconscious body so many times, they had been on the medical teams that worked fervently trying to bring her back from death's door...they understood when I started crying that it wasn't due to the pain from the injury, it was the pain I felt at the thought of not being able to ride in Brandi's honor, of not be able to raise the money to fund better treatments and a cure to save my daughter, of not being able to complete the challenge.  They understood this was my way of fighting back.

When I returned from being x-rayed my husband was in the room waiting with Elma.  He talked with me a few minutes and eventually brought up the subject of the Ride to Cure.  He said he'd been thinking about it and he decided he wanted to ride in my place.

OH HELL NO!

I know he only wants to protect me from further injury, but truly the only way that's going to happen is if someone makes me a suit from bubble wrap and keeps me locked in a padded room. If you're a klutz you're going to get hurt at some point, that's just the way it works.

Besides, this is a me and Elma thing. It's something we've planned and worked on together. I know that sounds harsh, and it's not meant to be, but I kind of look at this whole experience...the planning, choosing bikes, training our asses off, bitching about sore muscles, my foot injury, Elma's sunburns, all the painful cortisone injections, putting off my foot surgery, trying to get the donations we need to actually qualify for the ride...I see ALL of it as an adventure that Elma and I will talk about for the rest of our lives. 

So...

The x-rays came back and there are no broken bones.  Cuts, abrasions, a sprained wrist and bruised ribs...but NO fractures which means....drum roll please....

I CAN STILL RIDE!!!

So I'm taking the rest of the week off training to let myself heal and get past the soreness, but come Monday morning I plan to be back on Bart and peddling my fanny off.

I've got training to do, we have a disease to cure, and I must still raise $525 in donations in the next 10 weeks to actually be able to participate in the Ride to Cure.

I'm not giving up and I hope you won't give up on me either. I can do this, I know I can. I always knew it was going to be hard but it the long run I know it's going to be worth every bit of pain I've felt along the way.

I'm fighting for my kid....for your kid...and for all the people fighting diabetes.  I'll hurt for a little while...but their disease never goes away.

It's not over until the fat lady sings and I'm not evening humming yet.

***If you'd like to support my Ride to Cure by making a donation please click on the link below***

http://www2.jdrf.org/site/TR/Ride/JDRFNationalRides?px=1378497&pg=personal&fr_id=2244

A Night to Remember

Jayden, Me, and Regan

 

Have you ever had an experience that was so special, so important that you mentally told yourself, "I want to remember this moment for the rest of my life."  I've only had a few where I physically made myself stop and soak it all in, burn the images into my brain and the feelings into my heart.  Moments that I never want to lose, moments that I want to relive over and over throughout my life.

 

I had several of those moments last night at the JDRF Gala and most of them revolved around two little girls named Jayden and Regan.

 

Elma and I volunteered to work at the event and were given the task of chaperoning all the Youth Ambassadors, young people ranging in age from 7 to 18 who all had Type 1 Diabetes. Our job consisted of knowing where every child was at all times, making sure they were safe (and not involved in any mischief), making sure any severe spikes or drops in blood sugar levels were recognized and dealt with quickly, getting them where they needed to be on time, and keeping them entertained when they weren't needed in the ballroom.

 

As the children and their parents reported to the volunteer room I made an effort to introduce myself, assuring their parents I was knowledgeable to the needs of their diabetic children, the administration of insulin, and treatment of high and low blood sugar levels.  I wanted the parents to have a few hours off, to be able to enjoy the fundraising event, to get a little bit of a break - even if it was only for a few hours. I assured them they would be alerted immediately to any important changes in their child's blood sugar levels and they would be consulted before any actions were taken.

 

All the children were great...every last one of them. There was Brooke with the beautiful long blond hair and a wicked sense of humor, Preston, who (like me) was at his first Gala, Rebecca who has a smile that lights up a room and knew the ins-and-outs of the gala like the back of her hand, and so many other lovely children all dressed up in beautiful dresses or tuxedos. Most of the kids were old pros and had been at many previous galas, a couple were as new and nervous as I was, but I assured them they wouldn't be alone and we would have a lot of fun.

 

About half way through the evening we had some time when all the kids were together in the volunteer room at the same time. As we sat around the table talking I had my first "I MUST remember this" moment.

 

A couple of the girls had been battling high blood sugars that evening and a couple of the kids mentioned challenges they face everyday dealing with the disease, so I decided to redirect the conversation and asked the following question...We all know having diabetes stinks a lot of the time, but can any of you tell me something good about having T1D?

 

Immediately their eyes lit up and their hands shot up in the air, every single child wanting to tell me something positive about having diabetes.  Answers ranged from "When I'm low I get to have Pixie Sticks" to "Well, you get a LOT of attention which is really good if you're the type of person who likes being the center of attention."  We sat for several minutes talking about the blessings that diabetes had brought to their lives...not that any one of them wouldn't give up those blessings in a heart beat to not have to rely on insulin to survive...but it touched me to my very core to see all of the kids talking about the challenges they face with such a positive attitude.

 

My next gotta remember this moment happened when Jayden stood before hundreds of people and gave a speech about her life with diabetes.  Only 7 years old Jayden has lived with diabetes most of her life.  She talked about people mistaking her insulin pump for a phone, about how she relies on insulin to live, about what her life is like with T1D.  It was the first time I've ever heard a child so young speak about having diabetes and when she was done the entire audience was on their feet in a much deserved standing ovation.

 

Next it was time for Jayden's father Steve to tell everyone about the day his daughter was diagnosed. His heartfelt speech had me in tears and transported me back to the night my own daughter was diagnosed. I felt his fear, the overwhelming "air getting sucked out of your lungs" moment when you realize that their little lives are forever dependent on insulin and how nothing will ever be the same for them again.  He spoke of how his 7 year old daughter was forced to become a mathematician and could tell (accurately) how many grams of carbs were on her dinner plate with just a look and could then calculate how many units of insulin she'd need depending on what her current blood sugar level.

 

I had the opportunity to spend quite a bit of time with Jayden's older sister Regan, and although she is not diabetic I think she probably knows as much about the disease as I do.  It warmed my heart to see the unconditional love and support she had for her baby sister, the way she took care of her, and the pride that shown in her eyes.

 

I got to chat with Jayden and Regan's mom and dad, Steve and Amy. The are such lovely people and filled with as much love and devotion for their family as I am for mine. Steve especially impressed me because unlike many father's he appeared to know EVERYTHING he needed to know about managing his daughter's diabetes.  He was calculating insulin doses, making sure she ate the proper snack so she wouldn't go low and while doing so was equally attentive to Regan.  I've got to tell you...I was IMPRESSED!  I only wish all D-Dads behaved the same.

 

Amy made just as big impression on me. Arriving a little late because she was taking care of another daughter's needs, when she arrived she made a beeline for the volunteer room to check on her girls. Amy has a smile that lights up a room and her motherly love absolutely radiates from her.

 

I felt a connection with Jayden and Regan, I can't explain it but I will absolutely embrace it. I will never forget walking down the halls holding their little hands, or how excited they became when I told them about my job, or the looks on their face when we were discussing my daughter.

 

The last "don't forget" moment was when all the children were lined up in front of the audience during the last event of the evening...Fund a Cure.  As the M.C. went from child to child having them tell their names, ages, and what they wanted to be when they grew up, I heard their dreams of becoming a doctor, a model, a financial analyst, and I burned their beautiful faces into my brain and thought, "This is it, this is the reason I climb on my bike and train. This is the reason I will travel to Wisconsin during the hottest month of the year and will ride 100 miles in a single day...so these children, these beautiful little souls can one day have a life where they don't have to worry what their blood sugar level is, where they don't have to carry a little bag with all their diabetic supplies, where they have nothing more pressing than studying for a test or worrying about what they want to be when they grow up.  I'm riding for all the kids who have diabetes, all the kids who will one day be diagnosed, and all the non-diabetic sisters, brother, moms, dads, and grandparents who give unfaltering love and support for their diabetic loved ones.

 

So while I'm riding for Brandi I'm also riding for Rebecca, and Preston, and Aaron, and Andrew, and Shannon, and Brooke, and Stephanie, and Claire...and especially for Jayden, Regan, Amy and Steve.

 

 



40 40's

 

 

I work the night shift, 6 pm - 6 am, and then instead of crawling into bed, I hop on my bike and pedal: pedal harder, pedal stronger, pedal  longer each day.

I do this because each time I push down on that pedal I'm taking a stand and fighting back against this horrible disease that is trying to kill our children. I’m pushing closer toward a cure for diabetes – and a better life in the meantime – for my daughter Brandi. It hasn’t been easy, honestly it's been so much harder than I imagined it would be, but when I feel tired, or my foot aches so bad it brings tears to my eyes,  or I'm stressed out or scared at my goal of riding 100 miles in one day in her honor, I remember the stakes at hand:

Her very future and her life.

So I dig deep and do it.

I need your help because the real point of this ride is to raise funds to fuel research for a cure for Type 1 Diabetes and to do that, I need you. I’ve already done great, with over $1,000 in donations but I’m still short of my goal and the minimum amount I need to raise to be able to participate in the Ride to Cure Diabetes..

Now it’s time to push harder, train longer and yes, ask friends to dig deeper to get me to my goal of $2,500 to help cure diabetes. In order to take part in the ride officially, I need to reach that goal by the Fourth of July.

With that, I announce a special program beginning today: My 40 40’s. I am hoping that each day, beginning today, at least one person I know (or who knows someone I know), will step up and be my 40 of the Day. Donate $40 toward my JDRF Ride to Cure Diabetes, and push me along toward my fundraising goal as I pedal toward my 100 mile goal. If you find it in your heart to be one of my 40 40’s, I’ll reach my goal in less than a month.

What will you get from stepping up and being my 40 of the Day? The pure joy of knowing that you’ve made a difference in not just Brandi’s life, but in the lives of the hundreds of thousands of kids battling Type 1 Diabetes in our world. I know $40 is a lot, but I promise you, JDRF does amazing things with your donations.

So please, today, dig deep. Click on the link below and step up to be my 40 of the Day. All I need is 40 of you to shoot me toward my goal.

And yes, we will be known not just as the people who cured diabetes, but as the gang of friends and supporters who changed Brandi’s future.

http://www2.jdrf.org/site/TR/Ride/JDRFNationalRides?px=1378497&pg=personal&fr_id=2244