For those of you who know me, you know that I have a newly-turned 9 year old participating in 3rd and 4th grade recreational basketball. For those of you who don't, now you do. I hated sports when I was younger, not because of the physical activity, but mainly because of the cliques. My class was small, and when I was in P.E. class I was always stuck with the popular girls in the game of 3 on 3 basketball. That sucked. I ran back and forth, looking like a nube when the little snotty things refused to pass the ball to me because---well, let's face it--I wasn't the most coordinated or talented student of all. But doesn't that mean I should get a chance to practice? So I might become a better player? Instead, after too many times running back and forth, never getting the ball, I stopped. Flat out refused to look like a chump anymore, and told the coach to stuff it when he began yelling at me. Normally a wonderfully cooperative student, I could become a stubborn mule when it became abundantly clear that I was being mocked or treated unfairly. To make a long story short, I did not see the point in signing up for any sports since that was probably going to be my future in any sports activity.
And that is what is slightly humorous in my situation now, the position of softball mom, basketball mom, and who knows what other sports mom in the future??? I love that my daughter is part of a team and she gets a wonderful opportunity to play with other girls her age, gaining a skill and physical activity that she needs. I love that other parents are right there with me, cheering our heads off and supporting the lessons our daughters are learning on and off the court. It is an amazing and wonderful experience.
Most of the time.
Today we played a team, one that was new to our league. And like many games that our girls play, we wanted to WIN this one. Last game we played we lost, and the girls were gnashing their teeth for another a victory, they NEEDED it. I always view each game as a learning experience, as an opportunity to put forth the best that is in them, and a chance to learn from their mistakes, or from their success. But I love it when they win, too, I will admit it. Today's game I decided that I needed to help with the concession stand, as I had volunteered to help, but had yet had gotten in to help. So I left my husband and Mom to view most of the game, and I tried to catch some of the action. I missed the action, but got several accounts and I pulled together some views that I wanted to share.
Our girls were at 6 to the visiting team's 4, and the other team was FRUSTRATED. It had been a close game, and our offense and defense were playing well. But the ball became a T-Bone steak, and the girls were starving Pitt bulls, and their parents were, well, they were salivating in the stands as well. I know I like to shout out and cheer my head off, but what happened left me shaking my head. One of our girls went after a ball the opposite team had and when they wrestled for the ball, they both landed hard on the court, both of them knocking their heads to the floor. Both were injured. And while the coaches and referees were out on the floor trying to see what was the extent of the injuries, one mother (the opposing side) raced out onto the court to scream in the face of our 17 year old referee and curse obscenities that you never want your third and fourth grader to hopefully hear until they are at least in high school, hopefully NEVER. She was asked to leave the rest of the game, and she finally consented. (However, that did not help the following older girl's game.) I was glad that the girls did not seem to be seriously hurt, but it was shocking the behavior of some of the opposing sides parents in the aftermath. Their boys team had beaten our boys the game before, and the following older girls game afterwards. However, the missing victory over our third and fourth graders must have left a sour taste in their mouths that they just couldn't get over. But that was not the real issue for me.
The REAL issue is WHAT ARE WE TEACHING OUR CHILDREN? Can we as adults, when we don't like something in our grown- up lives pitch a cursing fit when things don't go our way??? Do we get to jump in other people's faces when we don't like that they got the promotion we wanted and act like a fool? Do we get into a police officer's face when the cop gets us for doing something we shouldn't and curse like a sailor? Actually, yes, I have seen it. It is shameful and shocking behavior that is derided and scornfully viewed on "World's Most Shocking Videos" and "Dumbest People" video shows. No one wants to be on those shows, however, some of us lose control over the dumbest things. And sports have become one of them. I understand being upset when one of our children is hurt, but both kids got banged up over their intense desire to prove themselves. In life that sometimes happens--we seek out our desperate and intense desires, and sometimes we fail, sometimes we succeed. But rarely do we go through life without injury or disappointment; in fact, it is from some of our most painful circumstances that we learn our most valuable lessons. And when we make mistakes, it is important to own up to those mistakes.
Too many times in life I see people try to blame everyone else for their problems. I had an ex that went through about every different job that he could get in our town and continually lost every job. I began to fear that he would run out of places of employment. It was always somebody else's fault--the co worker's, the boss's, the business', or SRS child support's fault that he simply could not work at the establishment anymore. I am seeing the same sad affair in the sports arena. It is ALWAYS the referee's fault for not calling or seeing every infraction in the game. It is ALWAYS the other team's fault for not playing fairly, when their team is just as much at fault for doing the same things. It is ridiculous. MAN UP, people! When your team loses a game, use it as a learning experience. When your referee misses a call on the opposite team, recognize that your own team benefits when the same referee misses a call on your team. Everyone learns from their mistakes, at least the worthwhile in society (survival of the most adaptable.) And for goodness sake, be an example for your child. Let your child see true integrity, grace under pressure, and plain and honest GOOD SPORTSMANSHIP. Because I got to tell you, if everyone acted like a reality star when their kid is playing a sport, I don't think there would be too many kids interested in continuing in said sport. I know I wouldn't keep playing, and as a parent, I would not let my child be involved in such a DRAMA-FEST.
The truth of the matter is this, and it is that I would have just enjoyed being part of a team, and getting the ball passed to me occasionally. And I am thankful that my daughter gets to experience that feeling of camaraderie, and learn something new and exciting. I just hope she manages to have far more good examples of how an athlete should behave, and disregard the "World's Dumbest Sports Parents."
Saturday, January 25, 2014
Friday, December 20, 2013
A Beautiful Gift for Christmas
I grew up in the Angola Methodist church, just 1 1/2 miles from my home. My home is where my great-grandfather decided to purchase land for his farm, and I am living in the original homestead that he built with his own hands, and where the third generation currently remains. My great-great Grandfather, William "Skipper" Traxson was a long-standing member of the Angola Methodist church and helped to establish the church that is such a large part of my life. My father always instilled in his children a great love of history and pride in our family history, and I hope that I can instill the same love of history in my daughter. And in thinking of this history of family intertwined in church family, I have enjoyed reminscing this week about growing up in the Christmas seasons, and all of the blessings and joys I received during this time of year.
My childhood was a happy existence. We were never well-to-do, but we were never without, either. We had food, clothes, a warm place to live, and so much land to explore that we were some of the most imaginative children you could find. My brothers did the occasional sport, but most of the time we were stay at home kids, and this in turn led to the excitement of Christmas at our church. Oh, the thrill of decorating not only the freshly cut cedar tree at our own house, but getting together at our church and decorating with all the other church members, eating delicious treats, and playing with the other children. And the wonderful programs...I loved them so. I always loved to sing, whether my knees knocked together or not, and at the end of the program we would receive a brown paper sack filled with exotic nuts, apples and oranges, then go on to hot coffee for the grown-ups, and hot chocolate for the children with cookies and treats afterwards. I would curl against my grandmother in the back of her large Impala and stare out at the clear, bright skies and search for same star that had led the three Kings to where Jesus lay in a small manger, and think of our own barn as we headed the short distance home. How neat would it be to sleep with the cows and donkeys in a warm barn, surrounded by the smell of hay and animals! (I was an odd child, I must admit.) And to enjoy the beautiful and joyous hyms before and after Christmas made the season precious to me.
I know I'm getting older now, the season has new meaning than when I was a child, and sometimes it saddens me. I lost my wonderful grandmother and father, and the seasons differ somehow, but in a way have become so much more important to me. I suffered from a terminal disease, and I am working hard at enjoying every blessing of each day, especially during the holidays, because I almost lost that beautiful time with my family during the Christmas season. Many times I am ashamed of myself, the bitter anger I feel when the world slaps our faces with injustice, starvation, sickness, and death. Many times I react with anger when I should reach out with love. I focus on the trivialities of life, when I need to step back and examine the full picture. But almost losing my life in this world with my loved ones helped me to refocus on the most beautiful gift of Christmas, and in life itself. The gift of Jesus' birth blessed all of us, He was born to give His unconditional love to each one of us. Without that gift, this season would have no meaning for me. It would be an empty promise of material merchandise without the joy and fulfillment of a pure love that surrounds each of us, supporting us in our darkest moments to our brightest joys.
So amid the rush and chaos of the season, where media shouts at us that we won't be happy unless we buy the latest gadget, or we won't be cool if we don't smell like an underwear model, take a moment to step back and simply breathe, enjoying the warmth that surrounds and fills your heart and soul. That is the gift of Christmas that we truly need, and desperately desire, the love of Christ so pure and unconditional that he came to every one of us without prejudice or bias. A beautiful gift that is entirely the reason for the season.
My childhood was a happy existence. We were never well-to-do, but we were never without, either. We had food, clothes, a warm place to live, and so much land to explore that we were some of the most imaginative children you could find. My brothers did the occasional sport, but most of the time we were stay at home kids, and this in turn led to the excitement of Christmas at our church. Oh, the thrill of decorating not only the freshly cut cedar tree at our own house, but getting together at our church and decorating with all the other church members, eating delicious treats, and playing with the other children. And the wonderful programs...I loved them so. I always loved to sing, whether my knees knocked together or not, and at the end of the program we would receive a brown paper sack filled with exotic nuts, apples and oranges, then go on to hot coffee for the grown-ups, and hot chocolate for the children with cookies and treats afterwards. I would curl against my grandmother in the back of her large Impala and stare out at the clear, bright skies and search for same star that had led the three Kings to where Jesus lay in a small manger, and think of our own barn as we headed the short distance home. How neat would it be to sleep with the cows and donkeys in a warm barn, surrounded by the smell of hay and animals! (I was an odd child, I must admit.) And to enjoy the beautiful and joyous hyms before and after Christmas made the season precious to me.
I know I'm getting older now, the season has new meaning than when I was a child, and sometimes it saddens me. I lost my wonderful grandmother and father, and the seasons differ somehow, but in a way have become so much more important to me. I suffered from a terminal disease, and I am working hard at enjoying every blessing of each day, especially during the holidays, because I almost lost that beautiful time with my family during the Christmas season. Many times I am ashamed of myself, the bitter anger I feel when the world slaps our faces with injustice, starvation, sickness, and death. Many times I react with anger when I should reach out with love. I focus on the trivialities of life, when I need to step back and examine the full picture. But almost losing my life in this world with my loved ones helped me to refocus on the most beautiful gift of Christmas, and in life itself. The gift of Jesus' birth blessed all of us, He was born to give His unconditional love to each one of us. Without that gift, this season would have no meaning for me. It would be an empty promise of material merchandise without the joy and fulfillment of a pure love that surrounds each of us, supporting us in our darkest moments to our brightest joys.
So amid the rush and chaos of the season, where media shouts at us that we won't be happy unless we buy the latest gadget, or we won't be cool if we don't smell like an underwear model, take a moment to step back and simply breathe, enjoying the warmth that surrounds and fills your heart and soul. That is the gift of Christmas that we truly need, and desperately desire, the love of Christ so pure and unconditional that he came to every one of us without prejudice or bias. A beautiful gift that is entirely the reason for the season.
Saturday, October 26, 2013
Mind Over Matter
I am writing this post a bit late, but that is simply because I have been encompassed in the day to day, and not the mile marks of life. Bear with me, I will try to share what I remember...
I went to Wichita the 11th of October, and took my daughter and mother with me. Gary stayed home, since these long-distance rides really take a toll on his back and knee. Plus, I think he feels a little left out when the giggly girls take off to pick up our packets and run all over the place in the excitement of yet another race. I really can't blame him, I don't exactly fit in with his guy interest in tools, but I am learning. And he has been tremendously supportive, so the fact that he stayed home and held down the home front and took care of all the animals really helped us all to relax.
The one thing that I was excited about was that I would be running another half marathon, and this time it would be after my kidney transplant. I learned how different the half marathon felt this year from dialysis half marathon to new kidney half marathon and I wanted to share:
I went to Wichita the 11th of October, and took my daughter and mother with me. Gary stayed home, since these long-distance rides really take a toll on his back and knee. Plus, I think he feels a little left out when the giggly girls take off to pick up our packets and run all over the place in the excitement of yet another race. I really can't blame him, I don't exactly fit in with his guy interest in tools, but I am learning. And he has been tremendously supportive, so the fact that he stayed home and held down the home front and took care of all the animals really helped us all to relax.
The one thing that I was excited about was that I would be running another half marathon, and this time it would be after my kidney transplant. I learned how different the half marathon felt this year from dialysis half marathon to new kidney half marathon and I wanted to share:
- My dialysis half I was pushing myself to be at least at the three hour mark, even though there was no cut off period for half marathoners. I struggled to run the entire time, and only walked when I developed a massive cramp in my left leg at about the 11th mile. I did make it under 3 hours--by 3 minutes. As each mile added up I was exhausted and running out of energy. My new kidney half I did not push myself, on account that I was not quite 4 months out of major surgery, and my muscles were still healing together again. I enjoyed myself, as I had prepared for this run by running a tenth of a mile, and walking a tenth. The miles passed quickly and I even took a picture of the early morning sun rising as I ran. I felt energetic and happy as I went through each mile.
- My dialysis half I did wear a camelback and wore my mp3 waist belt that also held little energy snacks and gatorade chews and every other little trick in the runner's book. I chewed on the gatorade chew and took the GU creams when I felt I needed a bit of help. I did not stop once to use the bathroom, since I simply didn't feel the need to go until after the race. New kidney half was a different experience all together--I wore a camelbak full of gatorade, and used the same belt as last year, but carried a large bottle of water this year in it. I had all kinds of little tricks this year as well, but I never felt the need to use any of it. (I did partake in a GU vanilla cream this year at mile 11, but it actually hurt more than it helped in my opinion.) And this year I did have to go! I stopped at mile 5 to use the bathroom, since I was starting to feel terribly uncomfortable. It was such a wonderful feeling to feel normal again.
- Dialysis half--despite having a cramp at mile 10, I worked it out with a cup of gatorade and walked it out till I could run at a stilted pace to the finish. New kidney half--I could not run at mile 11 so I started to power walk to my music--Carly Rae Jepsen makes me want to move--and I only managed to run the last .1 to cross the finish line. My legs cramped horribly but I was determined to run across the finish line. A woman that I had met during the run had heard me tell an older gentleman about my transplant and she encouraged me during the race. We managed to cross the line together and congratulated each other. The embarassing moment was when a man came up to me after I crossed the line and asked me if I needed medical attention. I waved him off, and told him I just needed to walk out the cramps, I was fine. Grabbed a gatorade from one of the volunteers gratefully and made my way to get my medal and my finishers shirt.
- My dialysis half my cousin had run the half as well, and she finished about 15 minutes before I had, so she was waiting at the .1 mile to run the last bit with me. She shouted Go! You got this!!! but I had to laugh and tell her that my stilted pace was all that I could manage without going Forest Gump Magic Legs style of run. My new kidney half saw me make the run alone, since my kick-ass cousin did the full marathon this year. This year I waited on my cousin to finish so I could cheer her and her dear friend Jennifer on, and I felt so inspired by them!
- Last year I ran with only my mp3 walkman, and this year I ran with music, but I carried my new phone with a Nike running app, so I could track my tenth of miles to know when to run and when to walk. I was also able to keep track of my mileage with it, pace and time. It helped me relax, and track my progress so that I knew just how much I had to go, and how quickly the time was passing.
- The 2012 half saw a very determined Tracy who wanted to beat a time, and to be a part of something bigger than herself. I was angry at not getting a chance to be put on a transplant list and the fact that I was looking at dialysis for the long haul. I was serious about fighting for my health despite the ravaging effects dialysis has on the body. I wanted to be victorious, and I wanted to show others when we put our minds to do something, anything, we can succeed. The 2013 marathon saw a very grateful, very blessed Tracy. I knew that only by God's grace had I succeeded in both half marathons. I did not worry about my time, but savored every moment of my run...the cool crisp air, the bright clear sunshine, and the wonderful people that surrounded me. Everyone in that race had their own story of inspiration, and I marvelled at the power of the people who surrounded me. I was the inspired, the thankful person who was grateful for being included in such a wonderful event.
- Last half I limped back to Michelle's house and after a hot shower, tightened into a tight ball of pain and did not want to move one bit. This year's half saw me a little sore in the ankles, but I felt wonderful after a quick hot shower, and we hurried to my aunt's house for this amazing spread put on by Tim, Michelle's wonderful husband, and my aunt and mom as well. I ate so well that I should have ran another half to work it off. After visiting with so many wonderful people in our lives (my brothers and my sisters-in-laws as well as Michelle's family of friends and dear inspirations were there), we had to leave for home, since Snowden had school the next day, and I wanted to see my own wonderful husband.
I should mention that I was abnormally cranky the next day, but that turned out to be a precursor to something else, and not due to the run as I thought it might be. I did not expect it, but my daughter became quite serious about wanting to start running with me. We have been on 3 runs together, and it is wonderful cheering her on, and inspiring her to give it just a little more, for a little longer each run that we go on. I know she is an amazing girl, and I am proud to be her momma. And I hope that the love of running stays with her...because it certainly has saved her momma.
Friday, September 13, 2013
It Has Been A Full 12 Years--Almost a Lifetime
A few days ago everyone remembered, in some way, the tragedy America suffered as a nation and family at the hands of terrorists. The day the twin towers fell, a plane crashed in a Pennsylvania field, and one into the Pentagon. So many victims, such a senseless end to innocent life, an irreparable hole torn into so many families' and friends' relationships. An event that changed many of our outlooks on political interaction with other countries, and the footprint we left forever after that day. As I ran this last Wednesday morning, September 11th, I found myself looking back at the last twelve years of my life, what I went through and what I learned.
I woke up that morning twelve years ago for no particular reason and went directly to the television and turned it on--not my usual routine. I was currently attending Pittsburg State University taking Masters classes in English, and teaching two classes as a teaching assistant. I was also living with my boyfriend then, Justin Carriker, and working at Sirloin Stockade when I wasn't working at the University. I was pretty booked back then, and pretty stressed. And when I saw the Twin Towers smoldering, and then as the second plane hit, I was completely shocked. In my young years I could not comprehend such violence and hate, and loss of life. It was my first experience with terrorism. It changed how many people looked at our current political situation and where we stood as a country. I have to admit that I was one of the people screaming for blood, for revenge for the innocents slayed for some reason that I could not comprehend.
Years down the road I have grown some--mentally and chronologically. I dropped out of my last semester of Masters courses for a number of reasons...financial and I found out I was pregnant. Not what I had planned for myself, an unwed student whose boyfriend was off and on because he was always on the lookout for the greener grass on the side of as many fences that he came in contact with. Needless to say, I was stressed. And something wasn't right with the pregnancy. At 26 weeks I went into preclampsia which by the time I got to Joplin Freeman was full blown eclampsia. I had HELP syndrome, could barely breathe because the blood capsule around the liver had swollen up 3 times its size. One nurse at LCMC told myself to "get a hold of myself I was just hyperventilating". When they took a blood sample (I should say several because they couldn't believe the readings) they got me an ambulance to Joplin. I gave birth to a son, Michael Damian Traxson, and lost him three days later. I was lost for a few years after that. It's not something one can dismiss easily, or handle well. At least, it was not something I handled well.
During this time my father had a heart attack/stroke issues. His decline scared me, I wanted him to experience a grandchild. I got pregnant a year later and had a beautiful daughter, Snowden Chalea. He adored her, and she loved her Grandpa so much. She still tells me she misses her Grandpa (who passed away in 2008), and she is glad that when she gets to heaven she will be able to see him again as well as the brother she never got the chance to meet. Although my parents weren't thrilled I risked my health to have another child they were so happy with my baby...a little spoiling never hurts anyone. Before I lost my wonderful father I am glad that he got to see me realize my worth again and I got Justin out of my life permanently. (He went after that green grass on the other side of the fence, and I had decided such a blatant action screamed for an end to a bad relationship.) I met a wonderful man, Gary Davis, whom a friend had introduced to me. Not usually good with blind set-ups, I was a sceptic, but we just "clicked". I found the guy that I knew God wanted for me, and I have been blessed each day to have found my soul mate...he would probably not want such gushy stuff written about him, but that is who I am, so deal with it, baby.
All was good--I got on at Walmart full time, worked my way up to department manager of Hardware/Furniture/ and parts of Domestic. Gary and I got married and he adopted Snowden, making her his official daughter. My little brother Jonathan married his long time love, Debbie Cox, and my other little brother and his long time girlfriend, Jennifer Novak began planning a wedding for the next year. So much was happening that when I started to feel really sick after Halloween 2011, I thought it was a flu that I just couldn't shake. By the week before Thanksgiving I had to simply give in and see the doctor. He came back with "Your kidneys have failed." I sobbed on the way to the hospital. My father had spent three years on dialysis before he passed away and I saw what treatment did to him each time he went. I was friggin 36 for Pete's sake!!! This was not in my grand scheme of life. I had to leave my job, file for disability, and try to get better. There was not "get better" for me on dialysis. I just couldn't seem to get it straight--always too much fluid would get pulled off, I went through 3 catheters in my jugular within three months, and three surgeries to create a fistula in my left arm. I worked on getting on the transplant list at Via Christi in Wichita, but at the last day for my interview they closed the program down at Via Christi, and I was lost. So angry and frustrated, my awesome cousin convinced me to start training for my first half marathon. I had been running when I felt good on non dialysis days, so I gritted my teeth and trained. I was tired of putting my life on hold. At the Prairie Fire Marathon in Wichita in 2012 I made it in just under three hours and I was so proud of myself. I started to feel like an old tiger that still had her teeth, despite all of her scars. I trained for another half marathon and listed on the transplant list at St. Johns in Tulsa.
Life happens constantly. My husband blew out his knee with an AK 47 (it accidentally discharged--misfire) and I was thrown into balancing dialysis and caregiver. I was stretched thin, and postponed my spring half marathon to the fall Prairie Fire half marathon. After a couple of months and a stubborn man blessed with healing and determination I got the call from St. Johns that they had the perfect kidney for me. It wasn't exactly the best timing for me, but I couldn't say no to a better life--you just go with God's flow! I spent 3 1/2 days in the hospital and 5 days in a motel so I could do daily lab work. And let me tell you, I felt amazing after waking up in ICU after the surgery!!! I wanted to get out and start training for my fall half marathon as soon as my incision was healed, but the docs held the reins pretty tightly. The day I was released to run again I went home and ran two miles. Ran/walk, because my left side is still pretty weak, due to the doctors completely cutting through my abdominal muscles so that they could connect my new kidney. My husband had pushed himself taking full care of our girl, and I am glad that I was feeling better because he needed my help to rehabilitate his back as well as the knee cap-less leg.
And that's where I am at now...a lifetime later it seems. And if you read this whole blog you probably feel that you just lost a lifetime as well. (Ha, ha! But, seriously.) I have seen terrible things throughout the twelve years since 9/11, both in the outside world, as well as my own inner sanctum. And I think that we have all came out of these past twelve years stronger than we were before them. It's what we Americans have always done--taken terrible events and used them as a ladder to take ourselves to a higher plane. It is only when we let the horrible drag us under in despair and loss of self that we let the event take control of our life and we lose the vital part that makes us great. God has made us with every possibility of greatness, how can we fail with God at our side?
I woke up that morning twelve years ago for no particular reason and went directly to the television and turned it on--not my usual routine. I was currently attending Pittsburg State University taking Masters classes in English, and teaching two classes as a teaching assistant. I was also living with my boyfriend then, Justin Carriker, and working at Sirloin Stockade when I wasn't working at the University. I was pretty booked back then, and pretty stressed. And when I saw the Twin Towers smoldering, and then as the second plane hit, I was completely shocked. In my young years I could not comprehend such violence and hate, and loss of life. It was my first experience with terrorism. It changed how many people looked at our current political situation and where we stood as a country. I have to admit that I was one of the people screaming for blood, for revenge for the innocents slayed for some reason that I could not comprehend.
Years down the road I have grown some--mentally and chronologically. I dropped out of my last semester of Masters courses for a number of reasons...financial and I found out I was pregnant. Not what I had planned for myself, an unwed student whose boyfriend was off and on because he was always on the lookout for the greener grass on the side of as many fences that he came in contact with. Needless to say, I was stressed. And something wasn't right with the pregnancy. At 26 weeks I went into preclampsia which by the time I got to Joplin Freeman was full blown eclampsia. I had HELP syndrome, could barely breathe because the blood capsule around the liver had swollen up 3 times its size. One nurse at LCMC told myself to "get a hold of myself I was just hyperventilating". When they took a blood sample (I should say several because they couldn't believe the readings) they got me an ambulance to Joplin. I gave birth to a son, Michael Damian Traxson, and lost him three days later. I was lost for a few years after that. It's not something one can dismiss easily, or handle well. At least, it was not something I handled well.
During this time my father had a heart attack/stroke issues. His decline scared me, I wanted him to experience a grandchild. I got pregnant a year later and had a beautiful daughter, Snowden Chalea. He adored her, and she loved her Grandpa so much. She still tells me she misses her Grandpa (who passed away in 2008), and she is glad that when she gets to heaven she will be able to see him again as well as the brother she never got the chance to meet. Although my parents weren't thrilled I risked my health to have another child they were so happy with my baby...a little spoiling never hurts anyone. Before I lost my wonderful father I am glad that he got to see me realize my worth again and I got Justin out of my life permanently. (He went after that green grass on the other side of the fence, and I had decided such a blatant action screamed for an end to a bad relationship.) I met a wonderful man, Gary Davis, whom a friend had introduced to me. Not usually good with blind set-ups, I was a sceptic, but we just "clicked". I found the guy that I knew God wanted for me, and I have been blessed each day to have found my soul mate...he would probably not want such gushy stuff written about him, but that is who I am, so deal with it, baby.
All was good--I got on at Walmart full time, worked my way up to department manager of Hardware/Furniture/ and parts of Domestic. Gary and I got married and he adopted Snowden, making her his official daughter. My little brother Jonathan married his long time love, Debbie Cox, and my other little brother and his long time girlfriend, Jennifer Novak began planning a wedding for the next year. So much was happening that when I started to feel really sick after Halloween 2011, I thought it was a flu that I just couldn't shake. By the week before Thanksgiving I had to simply give in and see the doctor. He came back with "Your kidneys have failed." I sobbed on the way to the hospital. My father had spent three years on dialysis before he passed away and I saw what treatment did to him each time he went. I was friggin 36 for Pete's sake!!! This was not in my grand scheme of life. I had to leave my job, file for disability, and try to get better. There was not "get better" for me on dialysis. I just couldn't seem to get it straight--always too much fluid would get pulled off, I went through 3 catheters in my jugular within three months, and three surgeries to create a fistula in my left arm. I worked on getting on the transplant list at Via Christi in Wichita, but at the last day for my interview they closed the program down at Via Christi, and I was lost. So angry and frustrated, my awesome cousin convinced me to start training for my first half marathon. I had been running when I felt good on non dialysis days, so I gritted my teeth and trained. I was tired of putting my life on hold. At the Prairie Fire Marathon in Wichita in 2012 I made it in just under three hours and I was so proud of myself. I started to feel like an old tiger that still had her teeth, despite all of her scars. I trained for another half marathon and listed on the transplant list at St. Johns in Tulsa.
Life happens constantly. My husband blew out his knee with an AK 47 (it accidentally discharged--misfire) and I was thrown into balancing dialysis and caregiver. I was stretched thin, and postponed my spring half marathon to the fall Prairie Fire half marathon. After a couple of months and a stubborn man blessed with healing and determination I got the call from St. Johns that they had the perfect kidney for me. It wasn't exactly the best timing for me, but I couldn't say no to a better life--you just go with God's flow! I spent 3 1/2 days in the hospital and 5 days in a motel so I could do daily lab work. And let me tell you, I felt amazing after waking up in ICU after the surgery!!! I wanted to get out and start training for my fall half marathon as soon as my incision was healed, but the docs held the reins pretty tightly. The day I was released to run again I went home and ran two miles. Ran/walk, because my left side is still pretty weak, due to the doctors completely cutting through my abdominal muscles so that they could connect my new kidney. My husband had pushed himself taking full care of our girl, and I am glad that I was feeling better because he needed my help to rehabilitate his back as well as the knee cap-less leg.
And that's where I am at now...a lifetime later it seems. And if you read this whole blog you probably feel that you just lost a lifetime as well. (Ha, ha! But, seriously.) I have seen terrible things throughout the twelve years since 9/11, both in the outside world, as well as my own inner sanctum. And I think that we have all came out of these past twelve years stronger than we were before them. It's what we Americans have always done--taken terrible events and used them as a ladder to take ourselves to a higher plane. It is only when we let the horrible drag us under in despair and loss of self that we let the event take control of our life and we lose the vital part that makes us great. God has made us with every possibility of greatness, how can we fail with God at our side?
Saturday, August 3, 2013
A Letter That Needs to Be Written...
Dear Body,
I am writing to you today to apologize in a manner of speaking. I have been rather disrespectful and unappreciative of you in the past. All of my life you have stayed in the fight, and remained with me despite the choices I made. I could have passed away several times: overdosing on blood pressure pills when I was 1 1/2 years old, my first pregnancy when I went straight to eclampsia and HELP syndrome, and when I was too stubborn to go to the doctor when my kidneys shut down and I was TOXIC when I finally got medical attention. I probably deserved to die, because I didn't treat you better as I grew up. I was constantly trying to lose weight, to fit into clothes that were never realistic for my body type. I drank and I smoked, trying to fit in with people that didn't fit in with me. I didn't appreciate the miracle that you are, the gift from God that keeps fighting for survival in each situation that I encounter. But I do now.
You have stood by me and refused to quit. The first day that I did dialysis in Via Christi in Wichita was by far the worst that I ever felt. I had a tube rammed under the skin in my neck and shoved into my aorta, and the medicine made me vomit continuously all the way to the chair. The iron in the blood made me even more nauseous, and I was ice cold the entire time, shivering violently as the blood circulated through the machine. When I did get out of the chair and into the wheelchair I passed out cold. I wept when I reached my hospital room, it was the most horrible day that I could have experienced. It was also the first and the last time that I had seen tears in my husband's eyes. It was the only thing that could make me laugh, because that man never cries. But you didn't desert me, you didn't give up. Even when I had berated and abused you because you didn't fit into skinny jeans, or take responsibility for not taking charge of my health sooner, you fought on.
Together we became better through constant dialysis and surgical procedures. I learned what made you feel better through diet and treatments. And when the transplant institution at Via Christi closed down just days before my final interview to get placed on the transplant waiting list, you trained with me for my first half marathon at the Praire Fire that fall. WE did not give up, WE decided to alter our expectations and do more than survive. WE fought to enjoy life, and all the blessings and people that were in our lives. We didn't make the waiting list just then, but we made it later and shortly after we were blessed with a kidney. And boy, oh boy, did you and that kidney just fit together like PEAS AND CARROTS (as my favorite Forrest Gump would say.)
I want to promise you something, body of mine. I promise to appreciate everything you do for this team...pushing yourself to recover from the surgery, and striving for excellence as we work to rebuild what we had worked so hard to achieve before the surgery. No more will I try to fit into a certain body mold, or insult the shape you are today. So what if I don't fit into a certain size? So what if my left arm looks like a large caterpillar lives under the skin near a vivid scar that runs from my elbow to armpit? So what if I have two different cesarean scars on my abdomen now from different surgeries??? We are a BEAST! We are a survivor, and we will be proud and thankful for every breath that we use in each day. Thank you for sticking with me after all, I promise to make sure you don't regret it. :)
I am writing to you today to apologize in a manner of speaking. I have been rather disrespectful and unappreciative of you in the past. All of my life you have stayed in the fight, and remained with me despite the choices I made. I could have passed away several times: overdosing on blood pressure pills when I was 1 1/2 years old, my first pregnancy when I went straight to eclampsia and HELP syndrome, and when I was too stubborn to go to the doctor when my kidneys shut down and I was TOXIC when I finally got medical attention. I probably deserved to die, because I didn't treat you better as I grew up. I was constantly trying to lose weight, to fit into clothes that were never realistic for my body type. I drank and I smoked, trying to fit in with people that didn't fit in with me. I didn't appreciate the miracle that you are, the gift from God that keeps fighting for survival in each situation that I encounter. But I do now.
You have stood by me and refused to quit. The first day that I did dialysis in Via Christi in Wichita was by far the worst that I ever felt. I had a tube rammed under the skin in my neck and shoved into my aorta, and the medicine made me vomit continuously all the way to the chair. The iron in the blood made me even more nauseous, and I was ice cold the entire time, shivering violently as the blood circulated through the machine. When I did get out of the chair and into the wheelchair I passed out cold. I wept when I reached my hospital room, it was the most horrible day that I could have experienced. It was also the first and the last time that I had seen tears in my husband's eyes. It was the only thing that could make me laugh, because that man never cries. But you didn't desert me, you didn't give up. Even when I had berated and abused you because you didn't fit into skinny jeans, or take responsibility for not taking charge of my health sooner, you fought on.
Together we became better through constant dialysis and surgical procedures. I learned what made you feel better through diet and treatments. And when the transplant institution at Via Christi closed down just days before my final interview to get placed on the transplant waiting list, you trained with me for my first half marathon at the Praire Fire that fall. WE did not give up, WE decided to alter our expectations and do more than survive. WE fought to enjoy life, and all the blessings and people that were in our lives. We didn't make the waiting list just then, but we made it later and shortly after we were blessed with a kidney. And boy, oh boy, did you and that kidney just fit together like PEAS AND CARROTS (as my favorite Forrest Gump would say.)
I want to promise you something, body of mine. I promise to appreciate everything you do for this team...pushing yourself to recover from the surgery, and striving for excellence as we work to rebuild what we had worked so hard to achieve before the surgery. No more will I try to fit into a certain body mold, or insult the shape you are today. So what if I don't fit into a certain size? So what if my left arm looks like a large caterpillar lives under the skin near a vivid scar that runs from my elbow to armpit? So what if I have two different cesarean scars on my abdomen now from different surgeries??? We are a BEAST! We are a survivor, and we will be proud and thankful for every breath that we use in each day. Thank you for sticking with me after all, I promise to make sure you don't regret it. :)
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
My Happy One Month Anniversary
July 21st was my official one month anniversary of receiving a new, healthy kidney. I was incredibly blessed that the kidney worked so well and so quickly in me; I spent very little time in the hospital after the transplant. My labs have been wonderful, and I have kept up with all of my medications, even throwing back a handful by the end of the first month like a pro.
However, I have had some real emotional issues...it could be the high doses of Prednisone I'm on right now, or it could very well be that I have been restricted from my beloved running. The mere exercise of running kept my head up through the ordeal of dialysis, and kept me in a positive frame of mind. And I can't run yet...the left thigh/hip is extremely weak from the cut muscles on my left side. I just want to cry sometimes, and it's ridiculous, because I have been given so much. But running wasn't just exercise, something to do, it was my therapy, my mental relief for when everything became too much. When my anger grew to rage I could tie my running shoes on and grab my mp3 of favorite running songs and fly down the road until my anger cooled and I gained some perspective. Now that release is missing, and I'm not a very nice person at times.
So here it is...I am going to fight this furious rage with something positive. I will spend more time reading the Bible...it always tends to calm me. I will find some kind of deep core exercises to work my body into exhaustion so that when I can I will be able to run, I will run even better than ever. And if I ever get snappy with any of you, feel free to put me in my place. I need a wake-up call every now and then. Because I am truly blessed, I just need to find another way to achieve inner peace for now. And if any of you have any suggestions for me...feel free to share. To inner peace!
However, I have had some real emotional issues...it could be the high doses of Prednisone I'm on right now, or it could very well be that I have been restricted from my beloved running. The mere exercise of running kept my head up through the ordeal of dialysis, and kept me in a positive frame of mind. And I can't run yet...the left thigh/hip is extremely weak from the cut muscles on my left side. I just want to cry sometimes, and it's ridiculous, because I have been given so much. But running wasn't just exercise, something to do, it was my therapy, my mental relief for when everything became too much. When my anger grew to rage I could tie my running shoes on and grab my mp3 of favorite running songs and fly down the road until my anger cooled and I gained some perspective. Now that release is missing, and I'm not a very nice person at times.
So here it is...I am going to fight this furious rage with something positive. I will spend more time reading the Bible...it always tends to calm me. I will find some kind of deep core exercises to work my body into exhaustion so that when I can I will be able to run, I will run even better than ever. And if I ever get snappy with any of you, feel free to put me in my place. I need a wake-up call every now and then. Because I am truly blessed, I just need to find another way to achieve inner peace for now. And if any of you have any suggestions for me...feel free to share. To inner peace!
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
I Truly Feel Like I'm ALIVE!!!
For those who haven't heard, I am the blessed and lucky recipient of a kidney. A fully-functioning, healthy, perfectly matched kidney. As my team likes to say, I won the organ lottery when it comes to my kidney. And I thank God every day that he decided to bless me with another chance at living the fullest life possible. I know I didn't do a thing to deserve this opportunity, it is a rare gift, and I will do my best to honor such a gift.
I woke up like any other morning--up at 6 am to get my daughter ready for her last day of summer school for the week and getting ready to run after walking her down to the end of the driveway. I had just recently got my new fuel belt I had ordered from Amazon, and I couldn't wait to try it out on a medium distance run. The run was beautiful--the air was rich with the smells of clean grass, and freshly overturned field earth, and I drank it all in. When I do dialysis it would drain me, so when I recovered enough for a run the next day, I was grateful! I did most of the run without stopping (had a slight bathroom break) and got back in good time. I don't know why I checked my phone immediately, but I did, and saw that I had missed a call from Oklahoma. When I called the number back I assumed it would be the transplant office calling me to confirm my August appointment. You can only imagine my surprise when I was told that I had an "offer" of a kidney from Florida. I was in shock, and couldn't believe it at first. I had pretty much resigned myself to making a life for myself in the routine of dialysis and surviving. I was a baby--I started crying and laughing like a crazy woman. My mom and I ran around the house packing bags in a hurry, trying to remember every essential thing that we just might need, and also trying to hurry. I had showered, and my head was in the clouds. Gary stayed home to take care of our daughter, Snowden, and focused on holding down the fort while we went to the hospital.
At the transplant office I was informed I needed to get my blood tests and an EKG. We ran all over that hospital campus, and we didn't get to eat our lunch until about 2 pm. If I had known the doctor was going to be so strict, I would have been gulping buckets of water the entire time, but as it happened, I was an idiot, and suffered greatly after being admitted to the hospital and discovering I couldn't drink a drop of water, let alone suck on an ice chip. That did not go over well...and why do they think a SOUR NASTY lemon glycerin swab is going to help??!!! Let's just say, I think the nurses were looking forward to knocking me out at 10 am the next morning for surgery. The doctors and nurses at St. John's in Tulsa were amazing!!! I actually went in to the surgery on time, despite a last minute decree from the anesthesiologist that I needed to take a pregnancy test before surgery. I laughed all the way to the bathroom with my pee cup.
When I woke up, I was in the adult ICU. I INSTANTLY felt better--normal, somehow. I was talking a mile a minute to anyone who was in the room with me. My brothers and sisters-in-laws (sisters) came down to be with me after the surgery. EVEN my nieces came in and said how-do-you-do, which was a very nice surprise. I talked so much that I stressed my newly cut abdomen muscles (the old c-section bikini cut) and I need a pain shot. But it was worth every bit of pain. I couldn't believe how well I felt. The surgeons were surprised at how quickly the kidney "woke up" inside of me. The surgeon told me that it instantly "pinked up and started working right away" as soon as he had made all the necessary attachments. In fact, I was released from the hospital 3 days later, late Monday afternoon. But we still had to stay in Tulsa due to daily lab draws and meetings at the transplant clinic, so Mom and I got a room at the Inn at The Expo Center (next to Big Splash). That motel was great, I couldn't have asked for a better set-up. Mom and I couldn't wait to get home, though. We knew Gary was struggling with his back and knee problems and being Mr.Mom and Old McDonald at the same time. In fact, I know he was pushing his luck, and his knee. So--after a week of my impatience, and steadily healing body, the doctors released me to go home Friday after my labs were drawn, and that they were confident I wouldn't mess up the large amount of medications I had to ingest twice a day.
I have been cranky, and temperamental, mainly due to hormones and high amounts of prednisone, but I have always felt such a deep gratitude for the absolute awe-inspiring blessings that surround me and my family. I cannot believe how normal I feel now, I actually have body heat now!!! It has made me realize just how sick I was, even maintaining good labs and a good dialysis routine. I can't wait to run again...I did a light little jog to test how I felt, and I know it will be amazing when I heal enough to engage in that activity again. I plan on being able to get together with my sis, Chelle, and travelling to do runs together, now that I am not tied down to a dialysis chair. I have decided new kidney, new rules. I hadn't actually enjoyed a glass of wine for about a couple of months before the transplant (because of serious running and ab training) and I feel that to honor such a gift, I will just leave off any alcohol. I want to keep a good diet, which is a little more difficult, since all vegetables and fruit have to be cooked before I can ingest them. No fresh lettuce salad for me, but I will steam all kinds of fresh veggies! So many things have happened in such a short amount of time and I have definitely been overwhelmed at times. But with so much wonderful love and support from family and friends, I do not fear the future. My heart has expanded so much, I feel that it might burst from my chest at times. I thank God for being with me in every valley and mountain I have encountered, and for giving me such a supportive base of family and friends to walk the path with me. I thank everyone for being patient and supportive of me, even when I didn't deserve such unconditional love. THANK YOU!! Remember, we are all LIVING this life, no matter what we face, and we should be thankful for each breath that continues the blessings of our lives.
I woke up like any other morning--up at 6 am to get my daughter ready for her last day of summer school for the week and getting ready to run after walking her down to the end of the driveway. I had just recently got my new fuel belt I had ordered from Amazon, and I couldn't wait to try it out on a medium distance run. The run was beautiful--the air was rich with the smells of clean grass, and freshly overturned field earth, and I drank it all in. When I do dialysis it would drain me, so when I recovered enough for a run the next day, I was grateful! I did most of the run without stopping (had a slight bathroom break) and got back in good time. I don't know why I checked my phone immediately, but I did, and saw that I had missed a call from Oklahoma. When I called the number back I assumed it would be the transplant office calling me to confirm my August appointment. You can only imagine my surprise when I was told that I had an "offer" of a kidney from Florida. I was in shock, and couldn't believe it at first. I had pretty much resigned myself to making a life for myself in the routine of dialysis and surviving. I was a baby--I started crying and laughing like a crazy woman. My mom and I ran around the house packing bags in a hurry, trying to remember every essential thing that we just might need, and also trying to hurry. I had showered, and my head was in the clouds. Gary stayed home to take care of our daughter, Snowden, and focused on holding down the fort while we went to the hospital.
At the transplant office I was informed I needed to get my blood tests and an EKG. We ran all over that hospital campus, and we didn't get to eat our lunch until about 2 pm. If I had known the doctor was going to be so strict, I would have been gulping buckets of water the entire time, but as it happened, I was an idiot, and suffered greatly after being admitted to the hospital and discovering I couldn't drink a drop of water, let alone suck on an ice chip. That did not go over well...and why do they think a SOUR NASTY lemon glycerin swab is going to help??!!! Let's just say, I think the nurses were looking forward to knocking me out at 10 am the next morning for surgery. The doctors and nurses at St. John's in Tulsa were amazing!!! I actually went in to the surgery on time, despite a last minute decree from the anesthesiologist that I needed to take a pregnancy test before surgery. I laughed all the way to the bathroom with my pee cup.
When I woke up, I was in the adult ICU. I INSTANTLY felt better--normal, somehow. I was talking a mile a minute to anyone who was in the room with me. My brothers and sisters-in-laws (sisters) came down to be with me after the surgery. EVEN my nieces came in and said how-do-you-do, which was a very nice surprise. I talked so much that I stressed my newly cut abdomen muscles (the old c-section bikini cut) and I need a pain shot. But it was worth every bit of pain. I couldn't believe how well I felt. The surgeons were surprised at how quickly the kidney "woke up" inside of me. The surgeon told me that it instantly "pinked up and started working right away" as soon as he had made all the necessary attachments. In fact, I was released from the hospital 3 days later, late Monday afternoon. But we still had to stay in Tulsa due to daily lab draws and meetings at the transplant clinic, so Mom and I got a room at the Inn at The Expo Center (next to Big Splash). That motel was great, I couldn't have asked for a better set-up. Mom and I couldn't wait to get home, though. We knew Gary was struggling with his back and knee problems and being Mr.Mom and Old McDonald at the same time. In fact, I know he was pushing his luck, and his knee. So--after a week of my impatience, and steadily healing body, the doctors released me to go home Friday after my labs were drawn, and that they were confident I wouldn't mess up the large amount of medications I had to ingest twice a day.
I have been cranky, and temperamental, mainly due to hormones and high amounts of prednisone, but I have always felt such a deep gratitude for the absolute awe-inspiring blessings that surround me and my family. I cannot believe how normal I feel now, I actually have body heat now!!! It has made me realize just how sick I was, even maintaining good labs and a good dialysis routine. I can't wait to run again...I did a light little jog to test how I felt, and I know it will be amazing when I heal enough to engage in that activity again. I plan on being able to get together with my sis, Chelle, and travelling to do runs together, now that I am not tied down to a dialysis chair. I have decided new kidney, new rules. I hadn't actually enjoyed a glass of wine for about a couple of months before the transplant (because of serious running and ab training) and I feel that to honor such a gift, I will just leave off any alcohol. I want to keep a good diet, which is a little more difficult, since all vegetables and fruit have to be cooked before I can ingest them. No fresh lettuce salad for me, but I will steam all kinds of fresh veggies! So many things have happened in such a short amount of time and I have definitely been overwhelmed at times. But with so much wonderful love and support from family and friends, I do not fear the future. My heart has expanded so much, I feel that it might burst from my chest at times. I thank God for being with me in every valley and mountain I have encountered, and for giving me such a supportive base of family and friends to walk the path with me. I thank everyone for being patient and supportive of me, even when I didn't deserve such unconditional love. THANK YOU!! Remember, we are all LIVING this life, no matter what we face, and we should be thankful for each breath that continues the blessings of our lives.
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