Because there is no such animal. What a world it must be to live in with no drama. I cant even imagine. Men are ridiculously simple creatures. I sometimes wish I were a guy but then I think about walking around doing the stuff they do and thinking the stuff they do and I quickly change my mind. I feel bad for the men that have to deal with us women sometimes. Sometimes.
I guess what I would like to be able to do most (like a guy) is to be able to not take things so personally when drama does unfold and how to nip it in the bud and move on. And when I say move on I mean, MOVE ON... don't stew, don't replay and don't think endlessly what you SHOULD have said or done during said drama. Some people LOVE drama. I do not. I try to avoid it. Therefore I spend a large amount of time taking the high road and trying to appease the masses. This puts a strain on me. But I try to be a good person. Drama comes in all shapes and forms. Today it came in the form of The Meg, in a bad mood the moment she opened her eyes. The tears... the sobbing... and Im not even sure why. All I said was "morning peanut, Im making you pancakes for breakfast so lets get up, get dressed, brush your hair and come give me a hug". Shes almost 11. The hormones are starting to wreak havok on my poor, unsuspecting little girl. Its gotta be tough to feel weepy and have no clue why. "oh its the estrogen your pituitary gland is making, sweetie, so that you can have babies later in life". Until she gets it, I just hug her and rub her back and tell her I love her.
The other source of drama in my life is my parents. Not really drama but stress. I feel this overwhelming urge to make sure I have this happy family. You know.. all the generations getting together for holidays and baking cookies and the kids curling up in the grandparents laps to read books and walking on the beach with the dogs. Or even just small regular visits to keep in touch. Like why cant moms just have a conversation with their daughter like they would anybody else? Do they tell others that they probably could have found a better husband? Or that they dont like the way they discipline their kids? Why is it ok for parents to criticize us however and whenever they want? And the bigger question is why the hell cant we do the same thing without getting disowned for, say, 8 months? Ok. So what? They annoy and they lay guilt trips. Thats fine, right? Just don't get sucked in. Yea right! I cannot even tell you how much time during the day I get totally pissed off at them for treating me this way. And this anger and solo dialogue conversations with myself and I drive to the barn are serving what purpose? Other than making me look completely nuts talking to myself in the car? Though I just assume people think I have a hands-free devise and Im not insane. I think I might be. So I dont need to take this guilt and such right? Its not ALL my fault and I don't have to assume the burden. Let them be mad right back at me right? Nope. Doesn't work that way. Again, I reach out to my freinds, got the answer for me? Lemme know? Thanks. I have PLENTY of freinds who have made the decision to disconnect from their parents for a token amount of time. TO heal. To preserver sanity. To give themselves some space. Some do this for years. I cannot imagine. However Im at the 8 month mark in my fathers strike against his "horrid and disrespectful daughter". I called him stubborn. Not an asswipe (pronounced oz-weepay), not a turd ferguson.. stubborn. He is!!!! Hes 70 and set in his ways. I dont blame him for that. I dont. But it makes it hard to deal with him sometimes. I still love him and want to see him. He wont talk to me or see me. Ok so why does this bug me so much? Not sure. Why do I feel the need to carry this burden? I wasn't raised Catholic which apparently teaches people to be guilt ridden all the time. Its this sense of "well they are my folks and I need to maintain a relationship". True. But not if it causes pain. That isnt fair. Ive taken the high road yet again (I should get one of those punch cards- you've taken the high road 10 times, you get to be a jerk for the 11th time), so basically all I was trying to stand up for the past 8 months needs to be swept under the rug, I have to say Im sorry for hurting them, and now walk on eggshells until the next episode where I want to scream. This doenst seem like a fair role for a daughter just because Im a daughter. They wont change and they certainly cant seem to comprehend what I am saying to them for some reason so its like a total lost cause. I was TRYING to make things better by telling them how I felt. Wont do that again. I need to harden up. The plan of action now will be- reconnect, spend time and try to move forward for the sake of the kids. And if they dont like it, they can leave. I cant hold everybodys hand all the time. I have to take care of myself. I love my family. I love my mom and dad. I miss my mom and dad. They only live a few hours away. They are good people. They are FANTASTIC grandparents!! My mom- my mom rocks with my kids. They miss her. They raised me pretty well, took good care of me and loved me. But that doesnt give anybody the right to make somebody feel bad, right? They dont even know they do it. So they dont mean it, so I cant fault them. But that doesnt change the fact that the end result is me crying or sad. I cant make everything perfect so I think I need to stop trying and take care of me, and my 2 kids. But really, I need to get a backbone. Any words of advise or tips on coping (other than alcohol) please let me know. Hey, it just came to me......... There's a reason they made "Christmas Vacation" or the entire Vacation series for that matter. Families are dysfunctional. Period. I need to stop trying to fix it and ride the wave. I better get a full wetsuit with one of those head cap things or better yet one of those deep sea diving brass helmets- you cant hear your mom complaining with that thing on!!!!
Tuesday, November 11, 2014
A Coach !! A Coach !!! A Coach !!!! Blogged September 2011
Blogged September 2010
If you cant tell from the header, Im getting a coach. Im very excited, as you can see. Now I can actually get some structure and guidance for my cycling/racing season.
My method before was simply ride my bike. "Oh, youre doing intervals up Highway 9? Can I come?" or "the Noon ride?... ok". I would glom onto my fellow freind's workout plans if I happen to ride the same day/time they were out. Got some good training in but it was probably no where near what I , Rene' Baker, a unique individual should be doing to benefit *my* bod. Power? Lactate thresholds? Yeah, Ive heard of them but wouldnt know what to do with them if they flew by and smacked me upside the head. I have a Polar HR (Heart Rate) monitor and the HR strap. Its very nice. It was my husbands years ago but he just used the cyclometer. He gave it to me last year. I use the computer but not the HR stuff. Why get HR data, I cant down load it anyway and I dont know my zones. So I started wearing it this season to watch my HR as I rode. I recently figured out how to program and toggle thru the goddamn thing. Holy hell!! The number of menus and combinations of button pressing to get where you want to be is unreal. Many a temper tantrum ensued on Foothill as I was pulled over for several minutes screwing with the thing trying to figure out why it decided to stop recording my heart rate. Ask Carole how many times i muttered the F -word in said 20 minute pull-over on Foothill. I finally sat down with the 30 page manual a few weeks ago and went thru it and then used the Polar right away to create small files that I could figure out. Ahhhhhh 03 24 is not some wacky mileage its the freaking date !!!!! Ahhhhhhh. And who WROTE this manual? Could you BE anymore wordy and confusing. I think you need an advanced degree, a full nights sleep and the Rosetta Stone to figure it all out. Lucky for me, Im sharp and was well rested so I did figure it out. So I know how to use my Polar 720i now. Sweet. So for the months of January and February I simply watched my "live" HR on the cyclomter as I rode. It was interesting to watch the numbers and I could tell what my HR was from my perceived exertion after awhile. I would ride and say "hmmmm this feels like 135" and I would be pretty close. Excellent, Im in tune with myself. This is a good thing. Last week, however, the HR would not record. IT would pick up my HR and as I rolled out it would go away. I would relube the sensor, and actually LAY across my Polar to try and get the two to communicate. That is a nice image- some chick on the side of the road squashing her boobs into her handlebars. No dice. I think its the strap- its old, probably on its last leg. I NEED my HR monitor!! So I go to this sports shop in Los Gatos and bring my Polar and strap. Its one of these ritzy, Los Gatos, over priced, tiny space, yes its ok to charge $49 for a tank top kinda stores. But the guy was intelligent and was very helpful. Well, it works in the store! Murphys Law. I tried to explain to the guy that I am not retarded and that I swear it wasnt working before. He beleived me, or so he said to make me not feel like a moron. Fine. So today Im going to get on my rollers and see if it actually keeps recording. I have a feeling the battery is dying and its just a matter of time. I SHOULD have just spent the $50 on a new HR strap and then I could stop worrying. But the store is around the corner and thats where Im going this eve if that HR monitor gives me any crap this afternoon. I do NOT or shall I say CANNOT dick around with my cyclometer while rolling. Trainer yes. Rollers no. I can see the tragedy now- screwing around with the computer and tipping over and crashing myself out on the brick patio. Not pretty.
So Im getting a coach. A real, live coach!! Im going tomorrow to get my fitness and Lactate Threshold measured so that my new coach can use that data to figure out my zones and structure my workouts.
My method before was simply ride my bike. "Oh, youre doing intervals up Highway 9? Can I come?" or "the Noon ride?... ok". I would glom onto my fellow freind's workout plans if I happen to ride the same day/time they were out. Got some good training in but it was probably no where near what I , Rene' Baker, a unique individual should be doing to benefit *my* bod. Power? Lactate thresholds? Yeah, Ive heard of them but wouldnt know what to do with them if they flew by and smacked me upside the head. I have a Polar HR (Heart Rate) monitor and the HR strap. Its very nice. It was my husbands years ago but he just used the cyclometer. He gave it to me last year. I use the computer but not the HR stuff. Why get HR data, I cant down load it anyway and I dont know my zones. So I started wearing it this season to watch my HR as I rode. I recently figured out how to program and toggle thru the goddamn thing. Holy hell!! The number of menus and combinations of button pressing to get where you want to be is unreal. Many a temper tantrum ensued on Foothill as I was pulled over for several minutes screwing with the thing trying to figure out why it decided to stop recording my heart rate. Ask Carole how many times i muttered the F -word in said 20 minute pull-over on Foothill. I finally sat down with the 30 page manual a few weeks ago and went thru it and then used the Polar right away to create small files that I could figure out. Ahhhhhh 03 24 is not some wacky mileage its the freaking date !!!!! Ahhhhhhh. And who WROTE this manual? Could you BE anymore wordy and confusing. I think you need an advanced degree, a full nights sleep and the Rosetta Stone to figure it all out. Lucky for me, Im sharp and was well rested so I did figure it out. So I know how to use my Polar 720i now. Sweet. So for the months of January and February I simply watched my "live" HR on the cyclomter as I rode. It was interesting to watch the numbers and I could tell what my HR was from my perceived exertion after awhile. I would ride and say "hmmmm this feels like 135" and I would be pretty close. Excellent, Im in tune with myself. This is a good thing. Last week, however, the HR would not record. IT would pick up my HR and as I rolled out it would go away. I would relube the sensor, and actually LAY across my Polar to try and get the two to communicate. That is a nice image- some chick on the side of the road squashing her boobs into her handlebars. No dice. I think its the strap- its old, probably on its last leg. I NEED my HR monitor!! So I go to this sports shop in Los Gatos and bring my Polar and strap. Its one of these ritzy, Los Gatos, over priced, tiny space, yes its ok to charge $49 for a tank top kinda stores. But the guy was intelligent and was very helpful. Well, it works in the store! Murphys Law. I tried to explain to the guy that I am not retarded and that I swear it wasnt working before. He beleived me, or so he said to make me not feel like a moron. Fine. So today Im going to get on my rollers and see if it actually keeps recording. I have a feeling the battery is dying and its just a matter of time. I SHOULD have just spent the $50 on a new HR strap and then I could stop worrying. But the store is around the corner and thats where Im going this eve if that HR monitor gives me any crap this afternoon. I do NOT or shall I say CANNOT dick around with my cyclometer while rolling. Trainer yes. Rollers no. I can see the tragedy now- screwing around with the computer and tipping over and crashing myself out on the brick patio. Not pretty.
So Im getting a coach. A real, live coach!! Im going tomorrow to get my fitness and Lactate Threshold measured so that my new coach can use that data to figure out my zones and structure my workouts.
WHAT is wrong with people!!?? Blogged October 2011
Blogged October 2011
So it dawned on me that really the funniest ideas that I manage to come up with when I think about blogging and how my readers would respond, have to do with ranting about stuff. Its not like Im the first person to think about ranting or full on ranting on the chosen subject- chances are you are all on the bandwagon with me. With party horns and a keg of beer.
So where to start? Well there are several topics I can pull off the top of my head: Here they are in book format-
Asian Drivers and You- the Cupertino Survival Guide
Why must you pass me on a blind curve Mr Expensive Car Driver?
Do you really think you are the only entity on the planet? Get your head out of your ass and move it!!!!
Why yes, $125 for Flip Flops sounds reasonable!... and other ghastly priced items found in Los Gatos
Shit River- The constant flow of animal poop in my life and how I've bonded with the pooper scooper.
Why bother? I JUST vaccumed the entire house and yet there are still Toby Tumbleweeds skipping around my floor!!!
Waving the White Flag- I give up, my parents just dont get it
The story of my ulcer and thanks for choosing me.
Other good topics are my OCD stuff- oh boy this is a gold mine. The number one topper on the OCD list is my bed sheets. I kid you not, I am a wierdo. Bottom line- the sheets must be the same length at the top as the top blanket, not longer, not shorter, but just lined up into one unit. Other than that I hate having dirty hands- bike grease, dirt, food, pet hair, whatever, I dont want it there. Im not a compulsive hand washer which I find interesting given my hatred of dirty hands. Or dirty in general- camping is an exhausting event for me. I spend the entire time washing up in the lake only to trek more dirt onto my body as I hike back to the campsite. Its a vicious cycle that I lose each time.
But back to the ranting. I think the best thing here is to just go down the list and give a brief rant about each one.
The Asian Driver- ok it sounds racist but Im really NOT racist. But Asians cant drive. They cant. And its not an environmental thing- because the immigrants drive just as bad as the american born and raised ones. There is some gene that controls this: the inability to push down hard on the gas pedal, the inability to turn off a blinker and the inability to realize that they are blocking the parking lot. You cant really blame them. Its like any other genetic issue- like an alcohol dehydrogenase deficiency or celiac disease from gluten sensitivity. As for the survival guide part- yeah if you're cycling in Cupertino it is soley UP to YOU to protect your own life. Its akin to cycling thru East Palo Alto at night. Its dangerous. Enter at your own risk. And WHO the hell designed the parking lots in Cupertino?!! Specifically the Asian food markets? Talk about compounding an already existing problem !! Lets make super narrow parking spots, and super narrow aisles so 2 cars cant pass and so it is impossible to back out of a spot without having to do some sort of 6 point turn!!! I love asian food markets, and I tend to shop at them once in a while to stock up on cool, hard to find stuff like coconut water, or spicy ramen noodles. If you love coconut Ranch 99 Market is for you. BUt man do I stick out like a sore thumb. I usually the only white chick. One day this nice Asian - american woman about my age said "its so great to see non- asians shop here!" But once youre in the store- check your basic personal space bubble at the door. I think the acceptable place to stand next to a stranger in Asia is right ON them, like nose to nose. Its cultural and I try to respect that but while leaning over to look at the cookies I do NOT like having a woman pressed up behind me.
So where to start? Well there are several topics I can pull off the top of my head: Here they are in book format-
Asian Drivers and You- the Cupertino Survival Guide
Why must you pass me on a blind curve Mr Expensive Car Driver?
Do you really think you are the only entity on the planet? Get your head out of your ass and move it!!!!
Why yes, $125 for Flip Flops sounds reasonable!... and other ghastly priced items found in Los Gatos
Shit River- The constant flow of animal poop in my life and how I've bonded with the pooper scooper.
Why bother? I JUST vaccumed the entire house and yet there are still Toby Tumbleweeds skipping around my floor!!!
Waving the White Flag- I give up, my parents just dont get it
The story of my ulcer and thanks for choosing me.
Other good topics are my OCD stuff- oh boy this is a gold mine. The number one topper on the OCD list is my bed sheets. I kid you not, I am a wierdo. Bottom line- the sheets must be the same length at the top as the top blanket, not longer, not shorter, but just lined up into one unit. Other than that I hate having dirty hands- bike grease, dirt, food, pet hair, whatever, I dont want it there. Im not a compulsive hand washer which I find interesting given my hatred of dirty hands. Or dirty in general- camping is an exhausting event for me. I spend the entire time washing up in the lake only to trek more dirt onto my body as I hike back to the campsite. Its a vicious cycle that I lose each time.
But back to the ranting. I think the best thing here is to just go down the list and give a brief rant about each one.
The Asian Driver- ok it sounds racist but Im really NOT racist. But Asians cant drive. They cant. And its not an environmental thing- because the immigrants drive just as bad as the american born and raised ones. There is some gene that controls this: the inability to push down hard on the gas pedal, the inability to turn off a blinker and the inability to realize that they are blocking the parking lot. You cant really blame them. Its like any other genetic issue- like an alcohol dehydrogenase deficiency or celiac disease from gluten sensitivity. As for the survival guide part- yeah if you're cycling in Cupertino it is soley UP to YOU to protect your own life. Its akin to cycling thru East Palo Alto at night. Its dangerous. Enter at your own risk. And WHO the hell designed the parking lots in Cupertino?!! Specifically the Asian food markets? Talk about compounding an already existing problem !! Lets make super narrow parking spots, and super narrow aisles so 2 cars cant pass and so it is impossible to back out of a spot without having to do some sort of 6 point turn!!! I love asian food markets, and I tend to shop at them once in a while to stock up on cool, hard to find stuff like coconut water, or spicy ramen noodles. If you love coconut Ranch 99 Market is for you. BUt man do I stick out like a sore thumb. I usually the only white chick. One day this nice Asian - american woman about my age said "its so great to see non- asians shop here!" But once youre in the store- check your basic personal space bubble at the door. I think the acceptable place to stand next to a stranger in Asia is right ON them, like nose to nose. Its cultural and I try to respect that but while leaning over to look at the cookies I do NOT like having a woman pressed up behind me.
5 weeks 5 days post accident. Blogged on 04March 2011
Blogged 04March2011:
Under the advisement of many I have been told to journal my life for the purposes of healing, and for evidence in the lawsuit. A day in the life of me pre-Jan.23rd vs a day in the life of me now.
Pre: my life was full. Brimming in fact. I had lots to do and not enough time to do it. I am a mother of two. A boy Jared who is 13 and a daughter megan who is 11. I am an athlete. I have always been an avid runner. I run because it makes me feel good and keeps the endorphines flowing. Im a cyclist. I raced for Los Gatos Bicycle Racing Club. I trained for said bike season to compete within the Northern California Nevada Racing Association calendar. I had a super successful 2009 season, among the accomlpishments-gaining an upgrade to a Category 3 racer, winning the State Championship at the Velodrome for the womens Masters 35+, getting on the podium at many races and making a name for myself as a contending sprinter. I was a student. ETS in Santa Cruz was my second home beginning August 2010. Intenstive didactic work, huge amount of material to absorb and know, countless hours of studying, commuting over the hill several times a week and subsequently making the top grades in my class. Learning skills that would ultimately save lives, ease suffering and help those in need. Its a thankless job but somebodys got to do it. I wanted it because I never went to medical school even tho I had prepared. I wanted to do diagnostic medicine. I wanted to be elbows deep in trauma medicine. Bing Bing BIng.... paramedic ! Ok, mother, athlete, paramedic student.. what else. Oh, wife. And farm keeper. We have more animals on this property than most working cattle ranches. So a lot of my time goes toward feeding, watering, cleaning and maintaining a flock of chickens, 2 bearded dragons, 1 green iguana, 2 cats and 2 dogs, one of which is almost 16 and more work than normal.
A typical weekday for me would be: get up, get kids up, make them breakfast and pack lunches, help them find their shoes, remind them to pack their backpacks, get them out the door, clean up the kitchen, shower, dress, pack my bag, commute to Santa Cruz, sit in class 9am til 5pm, drive back home, squeeze in a bike ride or a run depending on how much daylight was left, get home, make dinner, do homewoek with the kids, get them ready for bed, then finally shower myself and then prop myself on the couch with massive book s to prepare for tests or the next days lectures for my class. On days I dint have school I would do the above up to getting the kids out the door then I would clean the backyard, the chicken coop, the house, get on my bike and do my prescribed workout anywhere from 1 hour to 3 hours depending on the day. I would be home in time for the kids coming home around 3pm, make snacks, help them get on track with homework, do chores, etc. Dinner, dishes, attempt to get kids into showers and jammies, tuck them in, then I would pick up the day with proping on the couch with my medic books.
Day of the tradgedy: 11am met my freind Carole at the Peets coffee in downtown Los Altos for a 2 hour zone 2 training ride. Did the Portola Loop. GOrgeous day. Warm. Sunny. Tons of cyclists on the road. Heading back south on Foothill Expressway Carole wanted to ride ahead a bit, which was fine with me as I had to try and get my heartrate a bit lower. The last thing I remember about that ride was looking down at my HR meter. Then I woke up in excruciating pain. Confused. Disoriented. Extreme back pain. Road rash all over my body. People around me talking to me, telling me to lay still. Paramedics putting me on the backboard and c-collar. Hurt to move at all, pleaded with them to not move me but they had to get me to the trauma center. I was A/O x1 (out of 4) which usually indicates a brain injury. Usually. The moment I was hit was 1:16 pm. I arrived at Stanford I beleive shortly after 2pm. I was a "load an go" situation on scene. No time for IVs or medical history taking. Golden Hour commenced at 1:16pm. I dont remember the exact sequence of events from impact to a couple days into my stay at the trauma wing. Thge pain I remember was horrid. My back was broken. Possible fractures to my right elbow, knee and enough road rash to keep anybody busy scrubbing for hours. I did not have a head injury in the sense of an epidural or subdural bleed. I did have a concussion. I had to be moved by this crane in the trauma wing. But first they had to get the special sheet with handles on it under me and smoothed out. Horrid I wanted to die. I remember the CT scanner, I remmber the Xray tech, he was really kind, I remember the crane. I remember the events that caused me such pain even the Dilaudid and Fentenyl couldnt mask. 6 hours of radiographs, tests, exams, scrubbing my road rash out. That was SUnday. MOnday morning I was told I needed to fuse my spine. My vertebrae was fractured so badly that it was unstable and I faced the loss of the use of my legs.
For 3 days I lay there, on my back, recovering from a huge spinal surgery, recovering from being slammed into by a mercedes seda at 45 mile per hour. Recovering from shattering his windsheild with my spine. Recovering from wacking my head on the roof of his car, recovering from the impact with the road after flying thru the air unconscious, not bracing for my fall, landing on my right side and head. Recovering forom sliding so extensively ont he asphalt that my joints were scraped to the bone. FOr 3 days I recovered , not moving, sleeping during the drug highs and crying when I was awake. Suffering was horrible. By day 4 the Neuro team was concerned I would develop an embolism, a potentially life threatening clot in my lungs or heart, so I was fored to move. I tried to sit up with the aid of the moving head of the bed. So sick form the meds, dizzy, nauseated. DIdnt want to sit. Made me sit. Vomitted. WIth a broken back, that was unreal pain, unreal. I saw stars. By day 4 I wasnt in a constant fog. From Day 1 onward I do remember freinds coming to see me. Mike came by on his shift as an EMT, I remember that. I remember Aron, with a big balloon for me as he was working his rotation in the ER that day. I remember CHris , Josh, Nick in my room. There was a 4th, I cannot remember. Corey came to see me, I dont remember that. Which days they came? I dont know. My mom was there. My dad. Beverly and Terry. Rikke and Thomas, my preceptor from GSH Kim, my sister in law Candi, Pam McDaniel, Lisa, Evan, Marie, Kim Perez, and Carole.....Carole was there from Time zero and on. I owe her more than I could ever give for her sacrifices for me. My husband Martin there for every second of that horrid nightmare at Stanford. It took til about day 6 to get the pain meds properly titrated. I was on Dilaudid, Fentenyl, morphine, heparin, 3 muscle relaxors, nerve pain reducers, tylenol for fever. I was so sick. I was constantly light headed, nauseated. I was on a clear liquid diet for 6 days. From Day 3 on the OT and PT came to my room to try and get me moving, It was futile as I vomitted each time I got upright sitting on the edge of the bed. Day 4 the Neuro team ordered the foley catheter removed. Now I HAD to move to a camode. Day 4 I manged to move my butt from the edge of the bed to the camode. I couldnt sit more than a few seconds. Day 5 I was able to stand and walk a few steps with help from 2 people. Day 6 I could walk a few more feet with help from 2 people. By day 7 I could walk the 8 feet to the bathroom and painfully sit and get up with help. Nauseated the entire time. Entire time. My eyes were sunken, I was pale, thin and covered in bandages which had to be changed frequently since I was missing a good amount of skin. Like a burn, no skin can lead to many problems. Day 7 was January 29th- discharge day. evening rolled around and I had to get into normal clothes and get into a wheel chair. The trip home was awful. I couldnt sit without pain at all. I was moaning and fidgeting the entire time. When I arrived home 30 minutes later, there was my family and several friends there, mom, dad, Carole, Bev and Terry. The car had to be backed up into our back yard and with the use of a walker I walked with help the 20 feet into my family room and onto the couch.
Pre: my life was full. Brimming in fact. I had lots to do and not enough time to do it. I am a mother of two. A boy Jared who is 13 and a daughter megan who is 11. I am an athlete. I have always been an avid runner. I run because it makes me feel good and keeps the endorphines flowing. Im a cyclist. I raced for Los Gatos Bicycle Racing Club. I trained for said bike season to compete within the Northern California Nevada Racing Association calendar. I had a super successful 2009 season, among the accomlpishments-gaining an upgrade to a Category 3 racer, winning the State Championship at the Velodrome for the womens Masters 35+, getting on the podium at many races and making a name for myself as a contending sprinter. I was a student. ETS in Santa Cruz was my second home beginning August 2010. Intenstive didactic work, huge amount of material to absorb and know, countless hours of studying, commuting over the hill several times a week and subsequently making the top grades in my class. Learning skills that would ultimately save lives, ease suffering and help those in need. Its a thankless job but somebodys got to do it. I wanted it because I never went to medical school even tho I had prepared. I wanted to do diagnostic medicine. I wanted to be elbows deep in trauma medicine. Bing Bing BIng.... paramedic ! Ok, mother, athlete, paramedic student.. what else. Oh, wife. And farm keeper. We have more animals on this property than most working cattle ranches. So a lot of my time goes toward feeding, watering, cleaning and maintaining a flock of chickens, 2 bearded dragons, 1 green iguana, 2 cats and 2 dogs, one of which is almost 16 and more work than normal.
A typical weekday for me would be: get up, get kids up, make them breakfast and pack lunches, help them find their shoes, remind them to pack their backpacks, get them out the door, clean up the kitchen, shower, dress, pack my bag, commute to Santa Cruz, sit in class 9am til 5pm, drive back home, squeeze in a bike ride or a run depending on how much daylight was left, get home, make dinner, do homewoek with the kids, get them ready for bed, then finally shower myself and then prop myself on the couch with massive book s to prepare for tests or the next days lectures for my class. On days I dint have school I would do the above up to getting the kids out the door then I would clean the backyard, the chicken coop, the house, get on my bike and do my prescribed workout anywhere from 1 hour to 3 hours depending on the day. I would be home in time for the kids coming home around 3pm, make snacks, help them get on track with homework, do chores, etc. Dinner, dishes, attempt to get kids into showers and jammies, tuck them in, then I would pick up the day with proping on the couch with my medic books.
Day of the tradgedy: 11am met my freind Carole at the Peets coffee in downtown Los Altos for a 2 hour zone 2 training ride. Did the Portola Loop. GOrgeous day. Warm. Sunny. Tons of cyclists on the road. Heading back south on Foothill Expressway Carole wanted to ride ahead a bit, which was fine with me as I had to try and get my heartrate a bit lower. The last thing I remember about that ride was looking down at my HR meter. Then I woke up in excruciating pain. Confused. Disoriented. Extreme back pain. Road rash all over my body. People around me talking to me, telling me to lay still. Paramedics putting me on the backboard and c-collar. Hurt to move at all, pleaded with them to not move me but they had to get me to the trauma center. I was A/O x1 (out of 4) which usually indicates a brain injury. Usually. The moment I was hit was 1:16 pm. I arrived at Stanford I beleive shortly after 2pm. I was a "load an go" situation on scene. No time for IVs or medical history taking. Golden Hour commenced at 1:16pm. I dont remember the exact sequence of events from impact to a couple days into my stay at the trauma wing. Thge pain I remember was horrid. My back was broken. Possible fractures to my right elbow, knee and enough road rash to keep anybody busy scrubbing for hours. I did not have a head injury in the sense of an epidural or subdural bleed. I did have a concussion. I had to be moved by this crane in the trauma wing. But first they had to get the special sheet with handles on it under me and smoothed out. Horrid I wanted to die. I remember the CT scanner, I remmber the Xray tech, he was really kind, I remember the crane. I remember the events that caused me such pain even the Dilaudid and Fentenyl couldnt mask. 6 hours of radiographs, tests, exams, scrubbing my road rash out. That was SUnday. MOnday morning I was told I needed to fuse my spine. My vertebrae was fractured so badly that it was unstable and I faced the loss of the use of my legs.
For 3 days I lay there, on my back, recovering from a huge spinal surgery, recovering from being slammed into by a mercedes seda at 45 mile per hour. Recovering from shattering his windsheild with my spine. Recovering from wacking my head on the roof of his car, recovering from the impact with the road after flying thru the air unconscious, not bracing for my fall, landing on my right side and head. Recovering forom sliding so extensively ont he asphalt that my joints were scraped to the bone. FOr 3 days I recovered , not moving, sleeping during the drug highs and crying when I was awake. Suffering was horrible. By day 4 the Neuro team was concerned I would develop an embolism, a potentially life threatening clot in my lungs or heart, so I was fored to move. I tried to sit up with the aid of the moving head of the bed. So sick form the meds, dizzy, nauseated. DIdnt want to sit. Made me sit. Vomitted. WIth a broken back, that was unreal pain, unreal. I saw stars. By day 4 I wasnt in a constant fog. From Day 1 onward I do remember freinds coming to see me. Mike came by on his shift as an EMT, I remember that. I remember Aron, with a big balloon for me as he was working his rotation in the ER that day. I remember CHris , Josh, Nick in my room. There was a 4th, I cannot remember. Corey came to see me, I dont remember that. Which days they came? I dont know. My mom was there. My dad. Beverly and Terry. Rikke and Thomas, my preceptor from GSH Kim, my sister in law Candi, Pam McDaniel, Lisa, Evan, Marie, Kim Perez, and Carole.....Carole was there from Time zero and on. I owe her more than I could ever give for her sacrifices for me. My husband Martin there for every second of that horrid nightmare at Stanford. It took til about day 6 to get the pain meds properly titrated. I was on Dilaudid, Fentenyl, morphine, heparin, 3 muscle relaxors, nerve pain reducers, tylenol for fever. I was so sick. I was constantly light headed, nauseated. I was on a clear liquid diet for 6 days. From Day 3 on the OT and PT came to my room to try and get me moving, It was futile as I vomitted each time I got upright sitting on the edge of the bed. Day 4 the Neuro team ordered the foley catheter removed. Now I HAD to move to a camode. Day 4 I manged to move my butt from the edge of the bed to the camode. I couldnt sit more than a few seconds. Day 5 I was able to stand and walk a few steps with help from 2 people. Day 6 I could walk a few more feet with help from 2 people. By day 7 I could walk the 8 feet to the bathroom and painfully sit and get up with help. Nauseated the entire time. Entire time. My eyes were sunken, I was pale, thin and covered in bandages which had to be changed frequently since I was missing a good amount of skin. Like a burn, no skin can lead to many problems. Day 7 was January 29th- discharge day. evening rolled around and I had to get into normal clothes and get into a wheel chair. The trip home was awful. I couldnt sit without pain at all. I was moaning and fidgeting the entire time. When I arrived home 30 minutes later, there was my family and several friends there, mom, dad, Carole, Bev and Terry. The car had to be backed up into our back yard and with the use of a walker I walked with help the 20 feet into my family room and onto the couch.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Announcing the arrival of.......
Name: National Registry EMT-Basic Certification
Born: March 30, 2010 at 11:55am PST
Weight: 3 ounces
Height: 8x10 in.
Born: March 30, 2010 at 11:55am PST
Weight: 3 ounces
Height: 8x10 in.
Oh come ON!!!!!!!!!!!!! Not my geraniums too! ....and a side lesson on psuedopod reproduction
Its been a bit since Ive blogged. I feel a little bad. Ive been studying for my National Registry Exam for EMT (Emergeny Medical Technician) and I passed on 3/30 so that feels great. Now I have to submit that card and all the other paperwork needed to apply for State Licensure, THEN I can get a job and then I can apply to Paramedic School.
So last weekend I finally bought some plants for the backyard since its looking a bit drab. We used to have more flowering plants in the yard. That was until we got chickens who systematically dug them up or trampled them. I dont hold too much animosity towards them, they're just doing their chicken thing and besides they give us lovely eggs. But Im determined to have some freakin' color in my yard man !! I did plenty of research on which plants chickens will not eat. Geraniums was high on the list. That and Azaleas. Oh and herbs, they dont like herbs. Fine. I bought 4 geraniums ( 1 gallon size) and 2 azaleas. I planted them all the other afternoon when it was warm and lovely. It was good times, the chickens loooooooove when I garden because I dig up all kinds of critters with tasty exoskeletons for them to crunch on. Not to mention the slugs, and worms... its pretty funny, they just dig around in the dirt with me and talk to me and gather around when I go "ooooh. check this grub out". Its compounded by Meg trying to "save" any baby creatures she finds. So then ultimatley what Im left with is my daughter and a tuppeware which she has lovingly filled with co-habitating baby bugs and such and a small bowl of water, some red-leaf lettuce from our fridge oh and some chalk since the baby snails need calcium for their shells. Huh? "I looked it up on line mom.... from many websites". Ok. Good girl. That seems cute right? It is. Whats not cute is the huge argument I get into with her about keeping them all. In the house.
Me: "No way" "Youve got a 100 gallon tank with dragons in it"
Meg: "I'll get rid of them, these baby snails are more fun" (insert dramatic pouty, oh my life is so bad and Im so full of woe voice here)
Me: "Meg, these babies need to go back into the garden. Dont you think their moms will miss them?' (this approach only works if your child is under 6 and has no internet access)
Meg: "Mommy snails lay their eggs and leave. Oh and the eggs look like clear jelly"
Me: " oh"
long pause
Me: "well, you cant keep them, Im sorry. They will just shrivel up and die. So lets free them together in the enclosed part of the yard so the chickens dont gobble them up"
Meg : after a long, intensive inner battle thinking war about how the snails will fare loose in our yard vs how she will fare butting heads with her mother who has supreme executive power over how much fun she is allowed to have each day..... "Ok"
Phew... crisis averted.
The next 30 minutes were spent watching as these baby snails frolicked on a piece of lettuce til the point where Meg felt they would lead full, well-balanced and fruitful lives. I have to admit, they are freakin' adorable, like as big as half your pinky nail with cute little feelers and cute little eyeball stalks.
Ok so back to the plants..... oh and by the way the above snail-saga is a TRUE, un-editted story. Those of you who know my daughter, tooooooootally can picture this :)
So..... I put one geranium, we will call him Fred in the enclosed area we have around our tree and the other three, Ted, Zed and Ned along the fence. I put large rocks around my newly planted prizes so the ladies can dig them up. The fence line is not enclosed, but they can get behind the little 6 inch-high fence thing and roll around in the dirt, It's called dust-bathing and they do it daily to keep bugs off them. They then like to walk over to the patio and shake and about a pound of dirt flies off them and leaves a huge burn pattern of filth on my patio- thanks for that. Digging and rooting is not a vicious, ill-temptered act on their part, but merely the way they forage for food and they can easily destroy plants by this method, ask my lilies how they felt about it as they lay gasping on the ground for carbon dioxide. Its quite a production to watch actually (and I have taken the time to do so) where they do this chicken jig with their feet to move the dirt or grass around then they peck furiously at it. So 2 days go by and they have left my lovely flowers alone... phew !!! In fact before I even planted them I brought the little pots into the back yard and let them sit there for an hour to ensure they wouldnt prove to be delectable. It was quite the poultry pow-wow I tell you. All four of them gathered around these 6 pots discussing how unpalatable they were. THey came to some sort of group concensus that these plants were of no value to them. They couldnt eat them, they couldnt roll in them and they didnt dispense cucumbers so they turned their tailfeathers and went back to what ever it is they do. At that time of day it was time to sit on the air conditioning unit next to the house and look stupid while they preened. Horray... my plant babies are safe..... Made sense, do geraniums even look remotely tasty? No. I can imagine a jasmine to be yummy or maybe a fern but not a thick leaved brut like the geranium, it just looks bitter. Im thrilled to peices, my yard will be full of color soon. Here is one of the geraniums, Fred (the light pink flowered guy) enjoing his new home in the protected part of the yard along with the new gladiola shoots, mexican lavendar and the bird bath-
Today (that would be 3 days post planting) I walk out into the yard to gather the eggs (its a ritual, every 3 days I remember "oh crap I havent collected the eggs in awhile!!!!!" and I trapse out there with chickens on my heels as I say hello to my flowers and I acknowldege Fred there in the sunshine looking dandy in his post-transplantal state. I then proceed to load up my arms with eggs and make it back inside without dropping them. Im successful about 95% of the time. When Im walking back inside I glance at Ned, Zed and Ted and I have a coronary. Here's why.....
Oh My GOD !!!! Youre kidding me!!???!!! My geranium !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What gives???!!!! Fucker. Does she look guilty at all?
No. No she is not. In fact she'll do it again without a shred of remorse.
My azaleas are fine.
So last weekend I finally bought some plants for the backyard since its looking a bit drab. We used to have more flowering plants in the yard. That was until we got chickens who systematically dug them up or trampled them. I dont hold too much animosity towards them, they're just doing their chicken thing and besides they give us lovely eggs. But Im determined to have some freakin' color in my yard man !! I did plenty of research on which plants chickens will not eat. Geraniums was high on the list. That and Azaleas. Oh and herbs, they dont like herbs. Fine. I bought 4 geraniums ( 1 gallon size) and 2 azaleas. I planted them all the other afternoon when it was warm and lovely. It was good times, the chickens loooooooove when I garden because I dig up all kinds of critters with tasty exoskeletons for them to crunch on. Not to mention the slugs, and worms... its pretty funny, they just dig around in the dirt with me and talk to me and gather around when I go "ooooh. check this grub out". Its compounded by Meg trying to "save" any baby creatures she finds. So then ultimatley what Im left with is my daughter and a tuppeware which she has lovingly filled with co-habitating baby bugs and such and a small bowl of water, some red-leaf lettuce from our fridge oh and some chalk since the baby snails need calcium for their shells. Huh? "I looked it up on line mom.... from many websites". Ok. Good girl. That seems cute right? It is. Whats not cute is the huge argument I get into with her about keeping them all. In the house.
Me: "No way" "Youve got a 100 gallon tank with dragons in it"
Meg: "I'll get rid of them, these baby snails are more fun" (insert dramatic pouty, oh my life is so bad and Im so full of woe voice here)
Me: "Meg, these babies need to go back into the garden. Dont you think their moms will miss them?' (this approach only works if your child is under 6 and has no internet access)
Meg: "Mommy snails lay their eggs and leave. Oh and the eggs look like clear jelly"
Me: " oh"
long pause
Me: "well, you cant keep them, Im sorry. They will just shrivel up and die. So lets free them together in the enclosed part of the yard so the chickens dont gobble them up"
Meg : after a long, intensive inner battle thinking war about how the snails will fare loose in our yard vs how she will fare butting heads with her mother who has supreme executive power over how much fun she is allowed to have each day..... "Ok"
Phew... crisis averted.
The next 30 minutes were spent watching as these baby snails frolicked on a piece of lettuce til the point where Meg felt they would lead full, well-balanced and fruitful lives. I have to admit, they are freakin' adorable, like as big as half your pinky nail with cute little feelers and cute little eyeball stalks.
Ok so back to the plants..... oh and by the way the above snail-saga is a TRUE, un-editted story. Those of you who know my daughter, tooooooootally can picture this :)
So..... I put one geranium, we will call him Fred in the enclosed area we have around our tree and the other three, Ted, Zed and Ned along the fence. I put large rocks around my newly planted prizes so the ladies can dig them up. The fence line is not enclosed, but they can get behind the little 6 inch-high fence thing and roll around in the dirt, It's called dust-bathing and they do it daily to keep bugs off them. They then like to walk over to the patio and shake and about a pound of dirt flies off them and leaves a huge burn pattern of filth on my patio- thanks for that. Digging and rooting is not a vicious, ill-temptered act on their part, but merely the way they forage for food and they can easily destroy plants by this method, ask my lilies how they felt about it as they lay gasping on the ground for carbon dioxide. Its quite a production to watch actually (and I have taken the time to do so) where they do this chicken jig with their feet to move the dirt or grass around then they peck furiously at it. So 2 days go by and they have left my lovely flowers alone... phew !!! In fact before I even planted them I brought the little pots into the back yard and let them sit there for an hour to ensure they wouldnt prove to be delectable. It was quite the poultry pow-wow I tell you. All four of them gathered around these 6 pots discussing how unpalatable they were. THey came to some sort of group concensus that these plants were of no value to them. They couldnt eat them, they couldnt roll in them and they didnt dispense cucumbers so they turned their tailfeathers and went back to what ever it is they do. At that time of day it was time to sit on the air conditioning unit next to the house and look stupid while they preened. Horray... my plant babies are safe..... Made sense, do geraniums even look remotely tasty? No. I can imagine a jasmine to be yummy or maybe a fern but not a thick leaved brut like the geranium, it just looks bitter. Im thrilled to peices, my yard will be full of color soon. Here is one of the geraniums, Fred (the light pink flowered guy) enjoing his new home in the protected part of the yard along with the new gladiola shoots, mexican lavendar and the bird bath-
Today (that would be 3 days post planting) I walk out into the yard to gather the eggs (its a ritual, every 3 days I remember "oh crap I havent collected the eggs in awhile!!!!!" and I trapse out there with chickens on my heels as I say hello to my flowers and I acknowldege Fred there in the sunshine looking dandy in his post-transplantal state. I then proceed to load up my arms with eggs and make it back inside without dropping them. Im successful about 95% of the time. When Im walking back inside I glance at Ned, Zed and Ted and I have a coronary. Here's why.....
Oh My GOD !!!! Youre kidding me!!???!!! My geranium !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What gives???!!!! Fucker. Does she look guilty at all?
No. No she is not. In fact she'll do it again without a shred of remorse.
My azaleas are fine.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
So I'm gonna go race..... please hold the snickering to a bare minimum
The haps: TopSport Stage Race in Copperopolis- next weekend March 27/28. 3 events in 2 days. A circuit race, a TT on Saturday and then come on back Sunday for a long ol' Road Race. Im gonna go down and race it. Im not ready. I really dont like being last. But I am forcing myself because:
A) If I dont start somewhere I will never race this year.
B) My husband is going and begged me to go with him and I blew off Madera so I feel like I owe him.
At this point there are barely any folks registered. It's a new race this year as far as I can tell unless it had some snappy name last year and I don't recognize it this year. So either, its been poorly advertised or its a horrible, hard, painful course and Im totally clueless and heading for a totally sucky weekend. I will let you know.
I'm a Category 3 racer now (all together now.... "oooooooohhhhhhhhh, you're soooooo not a bad-ass Rene because your a 3 and not a 2 but whatever!") so there are 2 races I could do. The Womens Elite 1/2/3 or the Womens Master 35+ 1/2/3. Racing with masters does NOT make it easier. In fact sometimes they are so wicked fast its mind boggling- and leg boggling. I personally am freinds with many masters ladies that can kick most guys asses. Its scary. I am NOT kidding. You fellow cycling gals out there KNOW what Im talking about. Respect the masters woman cyclist. Remember that.
But then in the Elite fields you have the young people like Shelly Olds Evans (great gal) and such teams as the Tibco squad and Columbia High Road and such and they will lay down the hurt so fast I will be off the back before I clip in. This HAS happened to me- Sausalito Criterium, Feb. 2006. 3/4 combo field, my first race EVER. My teammate Kerry and I were like "oh sure, we can do this, lets DO it- raaaarrr!!!!". It was so hard. As you know some 3s are ready to be 2s so it can be fast. Anyway.... whistle blows and Im looking down screwing around trying to clip in (I'd only been on a road bike for less than a year and was totally NOT saavy with the handling moves which included clipping in AND clipping out- ask my elbow how it felt after I fell over at a stop sign a busy intersection in Los Altos... oh and ask my pride how it felt too). So Im dicking around with my pedal and look up and the pack is around the first corner and they are like YARDS and YARDS away. Fab!!! So I raced around Sausalito in the fog, alone. Up that goddam hill over and over and over again, alone. Good times. Not. Live and learn.
So to master or not to master? Hmmmmmmm. I think I will wait til the last minute and scope out the registered athletes in each one and then pick :)
Anyway. So I haven't been riding a lot. I dont have a coach and I dont have a plan. I just ride my bike. So I have no clue really how to train effectively for certain times of the season, called peaking. I completely missed base training from November-Jan due to a minor surgery I needed. The month of October I took off the bike just because I do every year anyway, its the end of the season, I raced a boat load last year, and was fried by end of September. Plus I need the space from my Trek. So when January rolled around and I was behind the curve I just hit the bike hard like everybody esle when I went out.... Zones 3 and some 4 riding, the Noon Ride, that sort of stuff. I could feel my fitness was not there- maybe hiding but not out in full force by any stretch. Max time on the bike was about 3 hours. So my endurance at this point is low. Im not an endurance athlete anyway so I'm extra screwed !! Then end of Feb- for 3 weeks I got a sinus/inner ear thing and I was off the bike completely. 3 weeks- liek 2 weeks is enough to lose your fitness, which is just sooooo sad it takes that little time to leave your body. Im picturing a little 'fitness fairy" that flutters away from y ou one night like you see in the cartoons when they die and their little cat or mouse spirit lifts up, up and away........ So needless to say, my training has been inconsistent and almost non-existent. So I am not prepared to race- at all. The Circuit race I can wing, maybe. I think I have enough fitness from 2009 and from the few months I have ridden to hang on. I can sprint so I may do ok. Who knows? Goal is to finish with the pack for the "pack time" since a Stage Race is a series of event and its all timed so you want the least amount of time to do well. So finishing with the pack in a crit gives you a pack time and you are even with everybody else who finished with the pack. Unless there is a break then those folks get a better finish time- you get the picture. The TT (Time Trial) I will suck eggs. I just will. Even when I am fit I suck at TT. I am small, which is a disadvantage. I dont have a TT bike or all the cool garb that goes along with it to make you more aerodynamic. I do have an aero helmet but that is a fraction of time. I dont TRAIN for TTs , if I did might actually do ok. Not fantastic but ok. Its fine. Im not a Time trialist- I can sleep at night knowing this so its all good. So its the TT that will drop my ass down the GC (General Classification which is the overall standings per time) faster than a cat can shred a 2 ply shower curtain. Thats ok, like I said I dont expect much from myself on the TT part. The road race... ahhhh the road race. Its gonna be 69 miles!! Thats a lot of miles. Thats a loooooooooong road race. And dude, Ive maybe done 60 on the bike... once!!!! I am sooooooo screwed. COmbine my lack of endurance with the fact that I am racing with not only 3s but the 1s and 2s too. I am soooooo superly screwed !!!!!!
BUT !!! It will be a fantastic workout. I mean, Im clearly sick in the head as are most of us bike racers. Our idea of a good time is to go out and rev our heart rates up so I high we almost go into v-fib (this is technically clinically true) and the lactic acid buildup in our legs could essentially disconnect our thighs from our torso and the lung burn is bad enough to make you puke and shed the first few layers of lung tissue. Its horrible pain and it is like a physical vs mental battle to hang on, even when you're good!! But afterwards its always like "oh my god that was soooo much fun, I cant wait for the next Stage race guys!! Lets book our hotel NOW for next year ok!!!!!!!!!" We are all disturbed. Plus, I get to get away for 2 days with the hubby and some freinds. I get to eat gobs of recovery food too (recovery food includes any and all foods that are no-nos during training time- which I ignore anyway which is why my ass is so fat right now !!! But I digress- the "ass rant" is another whole blog Im saving up to share with you all- dont you feel uber-special? Betcha cant wait to read THAT one !! LOL
Hopefully TopSport will kick start my desire to race again. Maybe getting out there and smelling the race bibs (in the air, not rubbing them directly on my schnoz) and the sweat and the sound of wheels spinning in trainers will make me start jonesing for the podium. Im sure the podium will remain the elusive "block of assymetrical wood you see at registration" not the "assymetrical block of wood I was standing on after most of my races in 2009" for a big chunk of this year, possibly the entire year, but thats the way it might have to be. When you move up from a Category 4 to a Category 3, you *tend* to get smacked around a bit in the 1/2/3 combo races because the range of the level of fitness and bike racing tactics skills is HUGE !!! HUGE I tell you.
So, Im gonna just go DO TopSport Stage Race and see how I do, see how I feel. I will try not to cry too much when I see the overall results. Or at least I will choke it back and maintain a cheery disposition thru a gritted-teeth cheesey smile as I congratulate you for doing well.... then sashe' back the to the car all calm and deliberate and then unload and self loathe and throw my cycling shoes into the back seat and have a conversation with myself and lecture myself about not training harder and being a slacker and its my own freakin fault I came in last. Then Martin will hug me and we will go get some ice cream on the way home to ease the suffering. It will be good times I tell you !!! Ive been thru this before in early season last year. It thankfully was short lived (like 3 months) then it clicked for me and I was tearing it up out there and racing became painful AND rewarding :) The view from the podium is AWESOME !!! Like you can see Canada from up there !!!!!
Im hoping only 10 women show up so even if I get 10th I can say "Holy Cannolli, I got top 10 !!!!!!!".
Full race report will follow on Monday March 29
A) If I dont start somewhere I will never race this year.
B) My husband is going and begged me to go with him and I blew off Madera so I feel like I owe him.
At this point there are barely any folks registered. It's a new race this year as far as I can tell unless it had some snappy name last year and I don't recognize it this year. So either, its been poorly advertised or its a horrible, hard, painful course and Im totally clueless and heading for a totally sucky weekend. I will let you know.
I'm a Category 3 racer now (all together now.... "oooooooohhhhhhhhh, you're soooooo not a bad-ass Rene because your a 3 and not a 2 but whatever!") so there are 2 races I could do. The Womens Elite 1/2/3 or the Womens Master 35+ 1/2/3. Racing with masters does NOT make it easier. In fact sometimes they are so wicked fast its mind boggling- and leg boggling. I personally am freinds with many masters ladies that can kick most guys asses. Its scary. I am NOT kidding. You fellow cycling gals out there KNOW what Im talking about. Respect the masters woman cyclist. Remember that.
But then in the Elite fields you have the young people like Shelly Olds Evans (great gal) and such teams as the Tibco squad and Columbia High Road and such and they will lay down the hurt so fast I will be off the back before I clip in. This HAS happened to me- Sausalito Criterium, Feb. 2006. 3/4 combo field, my first race EVER. My teammate Kerry and I were like "oh sure, we can do this, lets DO it- raaaarrr!!!!". It was so hard. As you know some 3s are ready to be 2s so it can be fast. Anyway.... whistle blows and Im looking down screwing around trying to clip in (I'd only been on a road bike for less than a year and was totally NOT saavy with the handling moves which included clipping in AND clipping out- ask my elbow how it felt after I fell over at a stop sign a busy intersection in Los Altos... oh and ask my pride how it felt too). So Im dicking around with my pedal and look up and the pack is around the first corner and they are like YARDS and YARDS away. Fab!!! So I raced around Sausalito in the fog, alone. Up that goddam hill over and over and over again, alone. Good times. Not. Live and learn.
So to master or not to master? Hmmmmmmm. I think I will wait til the last minute and scope out the registered athletes in each one and then pick :)
Anyway. So I haven't been riding a lot. I dont have a coach and I dont have a plan. I just ride my bike. So I have no clue really how to train effectively for certain times of the season, called peaking. I completely missed base training from November-Jan due to a minor surgery I needed. The month of October I took off the bike just because I do every year anyway, its the end of the season, I raced a boat load last year, and was fried by end of September. Plus I need the space from my Trek. So when January rolled around and I was behind the curve I just hit the bike hard like everybody esle when I went out.... Zones 3 and some 4 riding, the Noon Ride, that sort of stuff. I could feel my fitness was not there- maybe hiding but not out in full force by any stretch. Max time on the bike was about 3 hours. So my endurance at this point is low. Im not an endurance athlete anyway so I'm extra screwed !! Then end of Feb- for 3 weeks I got a sinus/inner ear thing and I was off the bike completely. 3 weeks- liek 2 weeks is enough to lose your fitness, which is just sooooo sad it takes that little time to leave your body. Im picturing a little 'fitness fairy" that flutters away from y ou one night like you see in the cartoons when they die and their little cat or mouse spirit lifts up, up and away........ So needless to say, my training has been inconsistent and almost non-existent. So I am not prepared to race- at all. The Circuit race I can wing, maybe. I think I have enough fitness from 2009 and from the few months I have ridden to hang on. I can sprint so I may do ok. Who knows? Goal is to finish with the pack for the "pack time" since a Stage Race is a series of event and its all timed so you want the least amount of time to do well. So finishing with the pack in a crit gives you a pack time and you are even with everybody else who finished with the pack. Unless there is a break then those folks get a better finish time- you get the picture. The TT (Time Trial) I will suck eggs. I just will. Even when I am fit I suck at TT. I am small, which is a disadvantage. I dont have a TT bike or all the cool garb that goes along with it to make you more aerodynamic. I do have an aero helmet but that is a fraction of time. I dont TRAIN for TTs , if I did might actually do ok. Not fantastic but ok. Its fine. Im not a Time trialist- I can sleep at night knowing this so its all good. So its the TT that will drop my ass down the GC (General Classification which is the overall standings per time) faster than a cat can shred a 2 ply shower curtain. Thats ok, like I said I dont expect much from myself on the TT part. The road race... ahhhh the road race. Its gonna be 69 miles!! Thats a lot of miles. Thats a loooooooooong road race. And dude, Ive maybe done 60 on the bike... once!!!! I am sooooooo screwed. COmbine my lack of endurance with the fact that I am racing with not only 3s but the 1s and 2s too. I am soooooo superly screwed !!!!!!
BUT !!! It will be a fantastic workout. I mean, Im clearly sick in the head as are most of us bike racers. Our idea of a good time is to go out and rev our heart rates up so I high we almost go into v-fib (this is technically clinically true) and the lactic acid buildup in our legs could essentially disconnect our thighs from our torso and the lung burn is bad enough to make you puke and shed the first few layers of lung tissue. Its horrible pain and it is like a physical vs mental battle to hang on, even when you're good!! But afterwards its always like "oh my god that was soooo much fun, I cant wait for the next Stage race guys!! Lets book our hotel NOW for next year ok!!!!!!!!!" We are all disturbed. Plus, I get to get away for 2 days with the hubby and some freinds. I get to eat gobs of recovery food too (recovery food includes any and all foods that are no-nos during training time- which I ignore anyway which is why my ass is so fat right now !!! But I digress- the "ass rant" is another whole blog Im saving up to share with you all- dont you feel uber-special? Betcha cant wait to read THAT one !! LOL
Hopefully TopSport will kick start my desire to race again. Maybe getting out there and smelling the race bibs (in the air, not rubbing them directly on my schnoz) and the sweat and the sound of wheels spinning in trainers will make me start jonesing for the podium. Im sure the podium will remain the elusive "block of assymetrical wood you see at registration" not the "assymetrical block of wood I was standing on after most of my races in 2009" for a big chunk of this year, possibly the entire year, but thats the way it might have to be. When you move up from a Category 4 to a Category 3, you *tend* to get smacked around a bit in the 1/2/3 combo races because the range of the level of fitness and bike racing tactics skills is HUGE !!! HUGE I tell you.
So, Im gonna just go DO TopSport Stage Race and see how I do, see how I feel. I will try not to cry too much when I see the overall results. Or at least I will choke it back and maintain a cheery disposition thru a gritted-teeth cheesey smile as I congratulate you for doing well.... then sashe' back the to the car all calm and deliberate and then unload and self loathe and throw my cycling shoes into the back seat and have a conversation with myself and lecture myself about not training harder and being a slacker and its my own freakin fault I came in last. Then Martin will hug me and we will go get some ice cream on the way home to ease the suffering. It will be good times I tell you !!! Ive been thru this before in early season last year. It thankfully was short lived (like 3 months) then it clicked for me and I was tearing it up out there and racing became painful AND rewarding :) The view from the podium is AWESOME !!! Like you can see Canada from up there !!!!!
Im hoping only 10 women show up so even if I get 10th I can say "Holy Cannolli, I got top 10 !!!!!!!".
Full race report will follow on Monday March 29
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Tuesday, March 16, 2010
WHAT is that on my boob !!???!!!
Ok so I really shouldn't be on line blogging because I have so much to do today before 5pm its not even funny. Really, Im not laughing... for once. But yesterday/this morning was one of these classic "Rene" mornings that really is blog-worthy so I have to take the time to jot this down.
[Sidebar: In a nutshell, I have to complete all my clinical homework for class this eve (5:30pm) which is all the Patient Care Reports (PCRs) I did on both rotations. Details and more details and a summary for each. I also have to continuously study for my skills final this Thurs and next Tues, for my class final the 25th and for the National Registry Exam after that so I can be licensed to work and to apply to Paramedic School. I am also trying to find a Paramedic school that has a schedule that jives with my life. Plus I want to get a 3 hour bike ride in today before 3pm when my son has baseball. So Ive got that buzzing around my head on top of my daily stuff (taking care of dogs, kids, collecting eggs, scooping litter, etc].
Yesterday, the main water pipe in the backyard burst while I was out just to give you a sample of the goings on in my life. The chickens were pissed due to the loud squirting/spraying noise so they were running around the yard barking at me, while I stood there and thought, great... where the hell is the water shut off key". It was too funny. To shup them up I pick them up and pet them, they hate that, they get the picture pretty quick. So with muffled clucking coming from some irritated yet respectfully hushes birds, I scoop the dog poop and chicken poop on the patio. The entire time Im talking to them about why they must poop on my nice patio and not the lawn... as they follow me around like something tasty is going to magically fall out of the scooper full of their shit, nothing ever has so why they think it will is beyond me. I think this might be why they came up with the phrase bird-brain. I turn off the main water in the front of the house. I then go inside and use the kitchen faucet (because Im stupid and forgot that just 1 minute ago I had turned off the water ) and as I lift the handle it rips right off- FAB!!! No sink water either. God dammit. Not cool, I didnt wash my hands after chicken fondling. Ewwww. Make mental note to not bite nails...... so Martin spent the late afternoon fixing that, yay Martin !!! Thanks honey. He fixed it just in time for me to take a shower so I could go to my Bike Club meeting. I went for a run with the spaz dog so I was sweaty and grimey. I was in a state of "oh my god if I dont take a shower I was going to have a conniption fit" ( I dont like to be filthy). All turned out ok... Rene bathed, she made the meeting and all was right in the world.
So I wake up this morning and lay there for a while, groggily thinking "this time change is screwing with my head, I'm sooooo tired in the mornings". Im a total morning person, like high energy from the get-go, yakking and diving into the day, it drives my husband nuts. So Im laying there with the kitten doing his usual spaz attacks under the blankets and Tobys with his front end up on the bed asking for pets and I feel a pinch on my armpit/boob area and I rub it and think, holy moly Ive got some huge zit or something going on! It feels really odd so I look and Oh MY GOD its my husbands-from the night before-gooey- bandaid that he had on this hellacious cut on his palm !! GROOOOOOOSSSSS!!!! So I rip it off and fling it and of course the kitten leaps from the bed and pounces on it (before he actually registers what this flying object could be- thats cat philosophy: pounce first, figure it out later) and immediately begins a game of pick up- one- on- zero soccer game. Im up. My day has started. I go down and make my girly-coffee as Martin calls it (those International Coffees- Vanilla flavor) and socialize with the hubby before he takes off for work. I go down to the basement to do my laundry as I have no kit to ride in today and there is an inch of water over the entire floor. I assume this is from the water fiasco from the day before. Its like Im not phased- I just stand there in my socks, yes socks, because Toby ate my slippers last night as I studied- like RIGHT next to me and I didnt hear the rip/shred/tear fest.. thats how hard I was focused. And I look around and think, shit the basement is full of water.. I cant deal with this now, I have to feed the iguana and water the crickets....... Anything sitting on the floor in the basement is soaked- my socks on my feet, games, dirty laundry, comforters, blankets, camping gar, backpacks, good GOD !!!! Now I get to mop that up with towels then wash THOSE towels. It never ends....my coffee is cold, I need to go nuke it. So I come upstairs to write this down. At the expense of the flooring in my basement I hope this story at least made you smile. Or even appreciate that your life is NOT my life. LOL :)
Ok, I gotta go study.......
[Sidebar: In a nutshell, I have to complete all my clinical homework for class this eve (5:30pm) which is all the Patient Care Reports (PCRs) I did on both rotations. Details and more details and a summary for each. I also have to continuously study for my skills final this Thurs and next Tues, for my class final the 25th and for the National Registry Exam after that so I can be licensed to work and to apply to Paramedic School. I am also trying to find a Paramedic school that has a schedule that jives with my life. Plus I want to get a 3 hour bike ride in today before 3pm when my son has baseball. So Ive got that buzzing around my head on top of my daily stuff (taking care of dogs, kids, collecting eggs, scooping litter, etc].
Yesterday, the main water pipe in the backyard burst while I was out just to give you a sample of the goings on in my life. The chickens were pissed due to the loud squirting/spraying noise so they were running around the yard barking at me, while I stood there and thought, great... where the hell is the water shut off key". It was too funny. To shup them up I pick them up and pet them, they hate that, they get the picture pretty quick. So with muffled clucking coming from some irritated yet respectfully hushes birds, I scoop the dog poop and chicken poop on the patio. The entire time Im talking to them about why they must poop on my nice patio and not the lawn... as they follow me around like something tasty is going to magically fall out of the scooper full of their shit, nothing ever has so why they think it will is beyond me. I think this might be why they came up with the phrase bird-brain. I turn off the main water in the front of the house. I then go inside and use the kitchen faucet (because Im stupid and forgot that just 1 minute ago I had turned off the water ) and as I lift the handle it rips right off- FAB!!! No sink water either. God dammit. Not cool, I didnt wash my hands after chicken fondling. Ewwww. Make mental note to not bite nails...... so Martin spent the late afternoon fixing that, yay Martin !!! Thanks honey. He fixed it just in time for me to take a shower so I could go to my Bike Club meeting. I went for a run with the spaz dog so I was sweaty and grimey. I was in a state of "oh my god if I dont take a shower I was going to have a conniption fit" ( I dont like to be filthy). All turned out ok... Rene bathed, she made the meeting and all was right in the world.
So I wake up this morning and lay there for a while, groggily thinking "this time change is screwing with my head, I'm sooooo tired in the mornings". Im a total morning person, like high energy from the get-go, yakking and diving into the day, it drives my husband nuts. So Im laying there with the kitten doing his usual spaz attacks under the blankets and Tobys with his front end up on the bed asking for pets and I feel a pinch on my armpit/boob area and I rub it and think, holy moly Ive got some huge zit or something going on! It feels really odd so I look and Oh MY GOD its my husbands-from the night before-gooey- bandaid that he had on this hellacious cut on his palm !! GROOOOOOOSSSSS!!!! So I rip it off and fling it and of course the kitten leaps from the bed and pounces on it (before he actually registers what this flying object could be- thats cat philosophy: pounce first, figure it out later) and immediately begins a game of pick up- one- on- zero soccer game. Im up. My day has started. I go down and make my girly-coffee as Martin calls it (those International Coffees- Vanilla flavor) and socialize with the hubby before he takes off for work. I go down to the basement to do my laundry as I have no kit to ride in today and there is an inch of water over the entire floor. I assume this is from the water fiasco from the day before. Its like Im not phased- I just stand there in my socks, yes socks, because Toby ate my slippers last night as I studied- like RIGHT next to me and I didnt hear the rip/shred/tear fest.. thats how hard I was focused. And I look around and think, shit the basement is full of water.. I cant deal with this now, I have to feed the iguana and water the crickets....... Anything sitting on the floor in the basement is soaked- my socks on my feet, games, dirty laundry, comforters, blankets, camping gar, backpacks, good GOD !!!! Now I get to mop that up with towels then wash THOSE towels. It never ends....my coffee is cold, I need to go nuke it. So I come upstairs to write this down. At the expense of the flooring in my basement I hope this story at least made you smile. Or even appreciate that your life is NOT my life. LOL :)
Ok, I gotta go study.......
Saturday, March 13, 2010
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Is it just me or are some religious people just too stupid to live?
Fla. woman dies during weeks-long religious fast
The Associated Press
Posted: 03/13/2010 08:37:52 AM PST
BARTOW, Fla.—Authorities say a 55-year-old woman died alone in a bedroom of her central Florida home after locking herself in the room for several weeks for a lengthy religious fast.
Evelyn Boyd told her husband, a preacher at a Pentecostal church in the city of Bartow, not to disturb her when she locked herself in the room Feb. 7 to fast and pray with only water to drink. Family members forced open the door March 5 and found her dead.
Sheriff Grady Judd told the St. Petersburg Times that deputies don't expect to file charges, though the investigation continues. A precise cause of death has not been determined.
The woman's husband, John Boyd, told the paper he didn't check on his wife because she felt she was doing what God called her to do and he wanted to respect her privacy.
Ok, so am I the only one shaking my head (only for a brief moment) before thinking "well at least there appears to be SOME natural selection on this planet"? I probably am offending somebody by posting this but I seem to have a knack for offending no matter what I do so Im not going to worry about it. Plus, this is my blog, I get to ramble on about whatever I feel like. Feel free to not read further or even make a snide comment on this post- its all good. Im open to reactions and your feelings and opinions do matter. Besides, most of my freinds and acquaintances are atheists anyway. In case you hadnt already figured by spending a few minutes with me, I tend to be pretty opinionated and jaded at times. Sarcasm is like a second language to me. I think I have a sensible outlook on the world and for the life of me I cannot seem to figure out how this planet has become so overridden with idiocy. The Bay Area is a select area of pretty intelligent, educated people so we are buffered in this normal zone. However, we are not normal. We are like in some ridiculously low percentage rank of smart and balanced individuals, like 0.0000001%. The rest of the US (except for big cities for the most part) is full of morons. Like the people you read about on the Darwin Awards. The ones who think that drinking and smoking while pregnant for the 6th time at age 14 is ok. That guns are good to have laying around a daycare. Who dont brush their teeth for months on end let alone wash their hands after the bathroom. Good grief. But they dont know any better, so they plug along thinking life is hunkey dorey with no clue at all. I guess that might be nice is a way. Ignorance is bliss? Isnt that the saying? Perhaps having a fully functioning brain is a detriment? Who knows.
There are a few religious nuts in the public eye like that family from Arkansas (there's the first problem), Michelle and JimBob(there my freinds is the second problem- who the hell goes by two nicknames?) Duggar that has 19 kids and will keep populating for sure because its "Gods will". Check them out at www.duggarfamily,com. Now they have a tv show with a massive following. I think people are just sickened. Most reality t.v. has the "oh my god I cant look away its so bad and so stupid" appeal to them. Don't even get me started on that Octo-mom thing, that woman already got more recognition in my blog than she deserves.. moving on........
For fear of making too many enemies I think I will stop writing about this topic. BUt let me just say I think that its nice that people find comfort in religion, whichever one they chose. Im not against religion, Im irritated by the twits who use it to be stupid and reckless. Having 19 kids because its Gods will is just plain stupid. Beleive in God, no problem but also know that your ovaries are going to release an egg a month and JimBobs sperm will find it because its the stupid ones that breed like rabbits. Its called Biology folks... look it up. Oh yeah,,, those folks didnt finish High School (smacks forehead).
I was brought up in the church, went to youth group, sang Kum-Bay-Yah by the campfire.. the whole nine yards. It never appealed to me and I seemed to be the only one who never "found Jesus" when I reflected on a rock next to the lake at camp. Oh well. Im a scientist by training and a realist for crying out loud.
Anyway... I saw this article and "I just HAD to make a comment"- I think that should be my middle name.
The Associated Press
Posted: 03/13/2010 08:37:52 AM PST
BARTOW, Fla.—Authorities say a 55-year-old woman died alone in a bedroom of her central Florida home after locking herself in the room for several weeks for a lengthy religious fast.
Evelyn Boyd told her husband, a preacher at a Pentecostal church in the city of Bartow, not to disturb her when she locked herself in the room Feb. 7 to fast and pray with only water to drink. Family members forced open the door March 5 and found her dead.
Sheriff Grady Judd told the St. Petersburg Times that deputies don't expect to file charges, though the investigation continues. A precise cause of death has not been determined.
The woman's husband, John Boyd, told the paper he didn't check on his wife because she felt she was doing what God called her to do and he wanted to respect her privacy.
Ok, so am I the only one shaking my head (only for a brief moment) before thinking "well at least there appears to be SOME natural selection on this planet"? I probably am offending somebody by posting this but I seem to have a knack for offending no matter what I do so Im not going to worry about it. Plus, this is my blog, I get to ramble on about whatever I feel like. Feel free to not read further or even make a snide comment on this post- its all good. Im open to reactions and your feelings and opinions do matter. Besides, most of my freinds and acquaintances are atheists anyway. In case you hadnt already figured by spending a few minutes with me, I tend to be pretty opinionated and jaded at times. Sarcasm is like a second language to me. I think I have a sensible outlook on the world and for the life of me I cannot seem to figure out how this planet has become so overridden with idiocy. The Bay Area is a select area of pretty intelligent, educated people so we are buffered in this normal zone. However, we are not normal. We are like in some ridiculously low percentage rank of smart and balanced individuals, like 0.0000001%. The rest of the US (except for big cities for the most part) is full of morons. Like the people you read about on the Darwin Awards. The ones who think that drinking and smoking while pregnant for the 6th time at age 14 is ok. That guns are good to have laying around a daycare. Who dont brush their teeth for months on end let alone wash their hands after the bathroom. Good grief. But they dont know any better, so they plug along thinking life is hunkey dorey with no clue at all. I guess that might be nice is a way. Ignorance is bliss? Isnt that the saying? Perhaps having a fully functioning brain is a detriment? Who knows.
There are a few religious nuts in the public eye like that family from Arkansas (there's the first problem), Michelle and JimBob(there my freinds is the second problem- who the hell goes by two nicknames?) Duggar that has 19 kids and will keep populating for sure because its "Gods will". Check them out at www.duggarfamily,com. Now they have a tv show with a massive following. I think people are just sickened. Most reality t.v. has the "oh my god I cant look away its so bad and so stupid" appeal to them. Don't even get me started on that Octo-mom thing, that woman already got more recognition in my blog than she deserves.. moving on........
For fear of making too many enemies I think I will stop writing about this topic. BUt let me just say I think that its nice that people find comfort in religion, whichever one they chose. Im not against religion, Im irritated by the twits who use it to be stupid and reckless. Having 19 kids because its Gods will is just plain stupid. Beleive in God, no problem but also know that your ovaries are going to release an egg a month and JimBobs sperm will find it because its the stupid ones that breed like rabbits. Its called Biology folks... look it up. Oh yeah,,, those folks didnt finish High School (smacks forehead).
I was brought up in the church, went to youth group, sang Kum-Bay-Yah by the campfire.. the whole nine yards. It never appealed to me and I seemed to be the only one who never "found Jesus" when I reflected on a rock next to the lake at camp. Oh well. Im a scientist by training and a realist for crying out loud.
Anyway... I saw this article and "I just HAD to make a comment"- I think that should be my middle name.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Cycling, Racing and the new 2010 non-season
I suppose it would make some sense to talk about bikes in some fashion. I am a cyclist. A bike racer actually. Well, I was last year. This year not so much. I just started riding in 2005- did a few centuries and found out I hate being on the bike more than a few hours, neither does my seat bones which apparently are very bony since my husband screams every time I try to sit on his lap. 2006 I was "grounded" due to illness so I rode as best and as much as I could. 2007 I had surgeries so not much riding til Fall. 2008 I ran a marathon so I rode only to cross- train. I still rode weekends with my hubby as its something we love to do together. So its not like I never rode my bike. 2009 I decided to get serious and I started training in Feb 2009. THe first couple months I did sucky, for my standards-pack finishes but nothing note-worthy but I got my butt out there. I did the Kern County Stage Race last year in mid May and that was unbeleivably hard and fun too. Met some great gals (Katie Kelly and Carla Cosentino) spent time with my awesome teammates (Samo, Lucia, Lisa) and learned that I can conquer anything after that nasty road race/hill climb/circuit race in over 100 degree weather. Nothing spells more fun that 4 girls, 5 bikes, 4 wheel sets, bike pumps, suitcases, a portable fridge, water bottles, granola bars, kits laying out to dry, a table, and extra rollaway in a double bed room down in Bakersfield for 3 days. It was nuts but man was that fun. If you consider torturing yourself on the bike for hours a day fun. We would be so tired at the end of the day and have to get up early the next and do it all again! It was a stage race. ITT on Friday, Circuit Race then ITT Hill Climb Saturday then a grueling RR on Sunday. It was so hot. And the Hill climb was so hard after a circuit race. And that RR sucked bad, I mean it was 117 degrees F!! Thats heatstroke waiting to happen folks and that can be deadly. People were dropping like flies. I actually finished pretty well so I was stoked. But that was the hardest race I had done. And I rode it solo since I got dropped from the lead pack on a climb. It was hot, dry, windy and there were buzzards following me. I diligenty drank cytomax and chewed on those ShotBloks. I had decided to do this race total spur of the moment. And since I didnt and still dont have a coach, I didnt really have a training protocol or specific workouts let alone any "A" or 'B" races selected.... I just ride my bike and just went to races. So I was pleased with myself for doing as well as I did in the GC. So that was mid-May
Every Memorial Day Weekend (end of May) my husband Martin and I do this ride from San Jose to Santa Barbara with about 50 other friends. Its 370 miles in 4 days. Its an invite only, supported ride that we have done for 5 years now. The ride has existed now for 20 years! Its basically 100 miles a day and its fast!!! The lead group always puts the hammer down and each year I stick on a little longer than the year before. Its usually the pro level guys and this one gal, Kerry who ROCKS the bike-gotta love a skinny chick that can outclimb and out do the boys. Tho she was a pro Mtn Biker some years back so she was hard core... but still ! This past year, 2009, I hung on GOOD. I had a good base under my legs and I was strong. I got shelled on the wicked climbs near the end of the days but thats ok. Im not a wiley climber as you can see from my physique. Im a sprinter. And yea, you skinny bitches will beat me to the top of the hill, I will crush your ass in a field sprint. So, were even. LOL. I don't need to prove myself to the climbers :) So after Kern and then the Memorial Day Ride, I was FIT. And I was ready to rock the pavement with my awesome teammates from Los Gatos Bike Racing Club. Want to give a shout out to LGBRC-you guys are the best bike club ever. So anyway...thats about the time when I started winning bike races, the end of May. And it was awesome and unreal. My first win I couldnt beleive it, I was grinning for like a week. I won the State Championship on the track in July as well. I actually earned back enough race rewards and cash from the podiums that I MADE money racing in 2009. Sweet!!!! So it really seeped into my being, the addiction to bike racing and racing every weekend and racing the track and loving the results. I felt confident and I felt strong. That felt really really good. I actually thought I had a chance in 2010 as a Cat 3 and wanted to try and race hard and well to upgrade to Cat 2 so I could be super serious. I have a pretty solid head racing, Ive got decent skills so I know Im safe in the pack and was ready to move up category wise. Folks told me that I had a sprint that could contend with the best out there so I was super excited for 2010 season. I finished 4th overall in the Bay Area Best All Round Rider Division so there it was ... documented that I was strong. Sa-weet !!! But that was 2009......
.........
The off season came and the off season went..... and as part of the standing theme "crud that happens to Rene" , sickness and injury sidelined me from getting my base miles in from November 2009- January 2010. So I fell behind the 8 ball completely.
Now its 2010 and what lurks ahead for me are a number of challenging races which would be cake if it were Cat 4 but will be 1/2/3 combined fields and I think I have a very slim chance in getting on the podium for a while. Consistely geting your ass handed to you on a platter is really not fun for me. It really gets to me when I fail. If I can stick with the pace and set up for the final sprint I have a fair chance for maybe a top 10 (and that depends on the pro teams that show up). But.... I don't have the fitness right now. So Im not racing. I know part of the curve is catting up, showing up to race and getting shelled off the back or downright beaten to a pulp just hanging on and over time you get better. In time, it wont be so bad. But right now, I am not ready to even line up with the pros. I want to be at least slightly prepared :)
So 4 weeks ago I got plagued by an inner ear thing and some more tummy issues so I havent ridden my beloved bike for over 2 weeks. Any fitness I had earned back is again gone- whooosh! So Ive lost my cycling mojo. Not sure how to get it back. Not sure I want to. That competitive streak in me is more like a faded backwash right now. No desire. I dont know why. Plus this weather sucks and Im more of a fair weather rider being from Southern California and all (not LA- but lovely La Jolla) so Im not willing to ride in the rain/sleet/snow or dark for that matter. I dont want to get run over.
So there you have it. That is why Im not in active training, I feel like I missed the bus and Im never going to be where I need to be to perform well. Im listening to my self on this one and just taking the time off the bike. I might be burned out, who knows. When the sun comes out again and there is more light I think I might take to the bike seriously again. I swear Im solar powered
Every Memorial Day Weekend (end of May) my husband Martin and I do this ride from San Jose to Santa Barbara with about 50 other friends. Its 370 miles in 4 days. Its an invite only, supported ride that we have done for 5 years now. The ride has existed now for 20 years! Its basically 100 miles a day and its fast!!! The lead group always puts the hammer down and each year I stick on a little longer than the year before. Its usually the pro level guys and this one gal, Kerry who ROCKS the bike-gotta love a skinny chick that can outclimb and out do the boys. Tho she was a pro Mtn Biker some years back so she was hard core... but still ! This past year, 2009, I hung on GOOD. I had a good base under my legs and I was strong. I got shelled on the wicked climbs near the end of the days but thats ok. Im not a wiley climber as you can see from my physique. Im a sprinter. And yea, you skinny bitches will beat me to the top of the hill, I will crush your ass in a field sprint. So, were even. LOL. I don't need to prove myself to the climbers :) So after Kern and then the Memorial Day Ride, I was FIT. And I was ready to rock the pavement with my awesome teammates from Los Gatos Bike Racing Club. Want to give a shout out to LGBRC-you guys are the best bike club ever. So anyway...thats about the time when I started winning bike races, the end of May. And it was awesome and unreal. My first win I couldnt beleive it, I was grinning for like a week. I won the State Championship on the track in July as well. I actually earned back enough race rewards and cash from the podiums that I MADE money racing in 2009. Sweet!!!! So it really seeped into my being, the addiction to bike racing and racing every weekend and racing the track and loving the results. I felt confident and I felt strong. That felt really really good. I actually thought I had a chance in 2010 as a Cat 3 and wanted to try and race hard and well to upgrade to Cat 2 so I could be super serious. I have a pretty solid head racing, Ive got decent skills so I know Im safe in the pack and was ready to move up category wise. Folks told me that I had a sprint that could contend with the best out there so I was super excited for 2010 season. I finished 4th overall in the Bay Area Best All Round Rider Division so there it was ... documented that I was strong. Sa-weet !!! But that was 2009......
.........
The off season came and the off season went..... and as part of the standing theme "crud that happens to Rene" , sickness and injury sidelined me from getting my base miles in from November 2009- January 2010. So I fell behind the 8 ball completely.
Now its 2010 and what lurks ahead for me are a number of challenging races which would be cake if it were Cat 4 but will be 1/2/3 combined fields and I think I have a very slim chance in getting on the podium for a while. Consistely geting your ass handed to you on a platter is really not fun for me. It really gets to me when I fail. If I can stick with the pace and set up for the final sprint I have a fair chance for maybe a top 10 (and that depends on the pro teams that show up). But.... I don't have the fitness right now. So Im not racing. I know part of the curve is catting up, showing up to race and getting shelled off the back or downright beaten to a pulp just hanging on and over time you get better. In time, it wont be so bad. But right now, I am not ready to even line up with the pros. I want to be at least slightly prepared :)
So 4 weeks ago I got plagued by an inner ear thing and some more tummy issues so I havent ridden my beloved bike for over 2 weeks. Any fitness I had earned back is again gone- whooosh! So Ive lost my cycling mojo. Not sure how to get it back. Not sure I want to. That competitive streak in me is more like a faded backwash right now. No desire. I dont know why. Plus this weather sucks and Im more of a fair weather rider being from Southern California and all (not LA- but lovely La Jolla) so Im not willing to ride in the rain/sleet/snow or dark for that matter. I dont want to get run over.
So there you have it. That is why Im not in active training, I feel like I missed the bus and Im never going to be where I need to be to perform well. Im listening to my self on this one and just taking the time off the bike. I might be burned out, who knows. When the sun comes out again and there is more light I think I might take to the bike seriously again. I swear Im solar powered
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The Colon Chronicles: Parts I-X
Ok so you guys said you wanted gross stories. To date the best stuff I've got has to do with my struggle with my gut. I will try to walk you through it with as much detail and drama as I can type. Some of you already know the story some of you only know a tidbit and might be curious. Some of you could care less, but thats ok. For me, having it all on paper to read might make it even more amazing to see what I endured. Grab a coffee, a danish (the kind with the fruit AND the cream cheese), your bike bibs (because you will be sitting on the chair for a while to get through this) and a medical dictionary (you might need it). If farts or poo offend you then stop reading. Besides you cant be my freind if you cant laugh at fart jokes or farts themselves.
Long long ago in a far away galaxy.......
So for many years starting maybe when I got out of college (1993)...... we interupt this story to let you know that the dog farted and I am not able to breathe properly, so any typos from this point forward are due to hypoxia.
So Ive always been a runner. Ran track in high school. I was a sprinter. I dont do long distance very fast. But running keeps my butt and legs and bod looking good so I run. And I love running. Its solitary time for me. Me and my music and the trail. Always been that way, always will be. Im not a social runner. Anyway...... running would give me this bad side stitch even as far back as high school cross country. It was managable but it was annoying. Over time, it just progressed. I guess its hard to put a date on it but I do know that when I was first out of college I would get these pains in my left side that would put me in a state of not being able to function for a couple hours, that i would need to go lie down. This is early 90's. By the time 2000 rolled around running was starting to hurt too much to do. Constant pain in the left side. I muddled through. By 2003 I could barely go a couple miles without stopping to clutch my side. At the end of 2004 I bought a road bike so that I could exercise without that side stitch. This worked for the most part but when I revved my heart rate and got close to LT I would get bad pains in the same place and have to stop. So bike racing was pointless. I did few races with just pack finishes.
In late 2005 I decided I needed to find the cause because I was in pain pretty much daily. I had knee surgery for both knees done in Sept of 2005 so when I was healed I could then focus on the left side thing. So essentially January of 2006 I went to PAMF and saw a GI Dr. He told me I am stressed (no?!!!!!!) and that I should meditate and its in my head. Thanks for that Dr. Yoga Is The Source of All Healing. I asked to see another GI Dr and they told me I cant see 2 same speciality Drs in one department. Huh? So they gave me the name of a Dr up near Atherton. I liked her. Dr. Yang. She said lets do a colonoscopy and take a looksie. Fine, sounds like fun, sign me up. Well I had that done in March. You see, its time consuming. Find a Dr. make an appt, takes a week or so, then see Dr, then set up test, another week.. so time is marching on here. March 2006, one colonoscpoy coming up. Shouldnt be that bad. Little dope in the IV makes you sleepy you wont even know there's a garden hose in your rectum. Wrong! Such pain. Horrid pain that would rip me out of sedation to a screaming, writhing state until they could give me a bolus of something to knock me down again. Went home from that procedure and collapsed on my bathroom floor yakking from so much fentanyl. Martin just brought me a pillow so I could sleep by the toilet since I just did not want to move. Dr. Yang told us that she had never had such a hard time maneuvering a scope before, that it was catching and was very difficult to perform. She told me to go see my OB since she thinks I have endometriosis/adhesions and she doesnt deal with that girly thing. So I go see my OB. I tell her what my GI doc said and she literally gets bug eyed and says "I dont deal with bowels". Fab. So this April by this time. I make an appt with the head of ColoRectal surgery at Stanford. GOing for the big guns, the top guy who has seen and done it all with the colon and he will know how to help me. Wrong. After 2 hours of screwing around with his interns taking histories of me, he finally shows up all suited up and cocky. Jerk. Probably drives a BMW. He tells me "you are wasting my time, there is no way you could have adhesions in your bowels even after a c section in 1997". Martin just about flipped his lid. The ONE thing I have learned in my journey to better health is that just because you havent seen it doesnt mean it doesnt exist. So he tells me of a GI doc in Mountain View that used to be a colleague. Dr.T. This guy is good. And this guy is booked so its like May when I see him. Well, we do a boat load of tests.
One, is the endoscopic gut waves measurement test. You put a tube down in the small intestine and leave it there. It has a sensor. You wake the patient up and sit them up with this tube coming out of the mouth taped to the cheeck. You measure the waves of the intestine on machine. You then give the patient who is most uncomfortable a sandwich of dry tuna on wheat toast to eat- why why WHY couldnt it be a freakin' Pop-Tart or a chocolate bar!!!???? Then the probe measures the waves of the gut. This goes on for 6 hours. Awake. With 2 dry sandwiches every 3 hours. You try eating a sandwich made of bark shavings without water to drink with a tube coming up your throat. That sucked. THe worst part was pulling the 5 foot tube out through my mouth when we were done. Had to be done in 2 pulls. The nurse I swear to God looked like she was starting a lawn mower! The taste was foul not to mention the gag reflex. Result: I have Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS). No shit Sherlock. Thanks for that. Next test a few weeks later was to swallow a pill that had a bunch of rings in it (tiny tiny things). In 5 days we x-ray your gut so see if they are gone. Well they werent. One little ring was still there sort of caught up on the left side of the descending colon. Hmmmmm. So we now know I have slow motility. Great. So we try some meds to speed up my gut. They dont work. I do know of some good Thai dishes that can do that which taste much better than these pills. We try some other meds, they dont work. Meantime Im scheduled for a Hydrogen Breath Test. He suspects I have an overgrowth of bacteria in my small intestine (SBBO- small bowel bacterial overgrowth). Those little microscopic bastards off gas like there is no tomorrow (which were gas comes from, the bacteria by products of sugar and carbs) and the gas gets stuck in my left side and causes pain. Took 2 weeks to get in for that test since they only do it Fridays. So my test went off the charts. So onto antibiotics I go. Rifaximin for E. Coli. Didnt work. I did get horrid diarreah tho- yay !!!! 2nd round, didnt work. So now its mid May and we do a double dose of 2 antibiotics. I go on our annual 4 day Memorial Day ride from San Jose to Santa Barabara with 50 other freinds and I am sick as a dog from the meds. (sad face). So over the next couple months, we just sit pretty and take a break from doctors. I'd had it. I couldnt do anymore fasting and tests. I cried a lot. We stayed home a lot because I had to lay down all the time. My husband is a good man. Its been 5 months and no diagnosis other than pain in left side, lots of insane bloating in the evening and me having to lay down for up to 5 hrs til it works its way through. By end of Aug Dr. T. recommends this guy in Los Gatos, a surgeon, Dr. Cook. (let me give a shout out to Dr. Andrew Cook and his staff at Vital Care Institute for Women is Los Gatos). The man is world renowned. People travel from all over the world to see this man for endometriosis surgery. He is the best. Period. And he lives in my town! Score. We dont know i have endo yet at this point. I go see Dr. Cook. He is the kindest man. He LISTENED to me. He HEARD me. He said "if you're hurting right there then something is wrong right there. I am willing to do exploratory surgery to find out". I think I cried with relief. Sept 21, 2006 I was scheduled for laproscopy and he does his stuff at Menlo Surgical Facility (like 5 star hotel kinda place). When I wake up, he says we found the problem. I remember crying with relief. He found endometriosis. These rope-like adhesions that were in my abdomen. My colon on the left side where it goes from transverse (across the tummy) to descendning (down the left side) was attached to my ribs so that is why food and gas what getting held up, causing the bloating pain. Ahhhhhhhh. Yay!!!!! Im fixed. He also found more adhesions here and there and zapped them away with the laser. I recover pretty quick. On disability for a couple months. But the pain is not going away. In fact it is getting worse. We tried all kinds of treatments from B12 shots to nerve blocks to lidocaine patches on my tummy. It wasnt helping. I was distraught. Its easy to lose hope when you feel this way. I had already lost a year of my life at this point to this disease that nobody to pin point. So around December, he sends me for a barium enema, to get a contrast picture of my intestines. And yes, its as bad as it sounds. So you have to fast for this test. You have to fast for all the tests I did. Not eating for a few days is hard. I become a bitch. So would you if you were starving and only got to drink broth. So I show up for this test, empty, pale, annoyed, scared. I do the traditional hospital gown that is open in the back so there is a constant breeze up your arse kind of situation. I lay down on the metal table. They pop the tube in and inflate the balloon thing so the tubes doesn't come out on its own. Try this at home, put a party balloon up your butt and have your freind blow it up. Now leave it there for an hour. Good times. So they fill me with this chalky white contrast solution. It shows up as black on the monitor. It stops right about where I have my pain. It wont go anymore. The technician scratches his head. Im in pain now, that part of my gut is NOT happy. They rotate the table so that Im tilted head down hoping that gravity will help pull the dye up into my gut. Not happening. So they stand the table almost upright and drain me. Thats nice. im going with the flow here, literally and trying to be positive. I just want it over. They decide to dilute the solution further as it is pretty chalky. Fab. Up it goes again. This time is goes. Oh joy. Well after a half an hour of clenching my ass cheeks and grimacing in pain they are done. I go home. Dr Cook has another Dr he works with who specializes in bowel surgery. Dr. Brown . This doc called me and said, "I think I can help you". I cried. I remember exactly where I was sitting and I remember it was dark and rainy outside. I met up with Dr Cook to look at my scans later that week. It was unreal. Picture the Top Gun roller coaster at Great America. It looked like that. They couldnt tell where my gut started and where it ended.
Here is your medical lesson for the day- The normal large intestine(which totals about 5 feet in length) starts at the junction of the small bowel low down in the abdomen and goes up the right side of the abdomen to about the bottom of the ribs then hangs a corner (called the heptatic flexure- hepatic means liver, your liver is on the right) then it cruises straight across to the other side and hangs a corner down (the splenic flexure, your spleen is on the right directly under the last rib) and then it goes straight down (straight not curved) to the cecum, or last few inches of the bowel to the end. Got it? Good.
So this is what mine did. It cruised on up to Mr. Liver (Hello Liver!) and then instead of transversing, it had so much extra length it drooped down all the way into my pelvis. Then it looped back up to the splenic area (well hello Mr. Spleen) and on that segment that went up, it had a fold (picture using frosting in a tube and youre making a nice line and then you double back and go over part of it again and then continue) then it was connected to my ribs. Then, yes it gets worse, instead of just going straight down to my rectum, I had excessive coiling and looping of the bowel. Holy hell what a mess. So we scheduled surgery to go in laproscopically with Dr. Cook to remove more endo/adhesions and then Dr Brown would open me up (on my old c/section scar) and remove some bowel and sew me back together. This was a big surgery. I had to be squeeky clean for this one. Lets just say that the prep was a doozy. My colon could hold a quart of water since it was oversized so those lame ass Fleet Enemas they sell at Longs are worthless. We bought the super-deluxe, over-sized, extra- durable, bright red do it yourself scrub the rectum clean enema bag. Martin should have a medal. He's been scarred for life. 9 quarts folks, 9 quarts- 1 quart at a time for a total of 9 enemas I endured on top of drinking the saline that strips your gut clean. That was not a fun night. We laugh about it now. Actually we laughed about it then as I tried to hold a quart of water in for 20 minutes then did the penguin dance to the can for the explosion of water and Martin yelling "oh my god!!!!" . Good times.
The surgery went well, it took just over 2 hours. They removed 5 FEET of excessive bowel. I have the photos and if you want I can post them. I will never ever eat fajitas again. OMG!!! It was such a mess. I had that huge adhesion on that back looped part that was causing a stricture so tight, gas and food would get caught in it AND be trying to move upwards until enough pressure built to push it through. 5 Feet folks, 5 feet. So now I have a normal amount of bowel.
The recovery from this was 5 days in the hospital. I dont remember much from day 1 other than waking up, lifting my gown and seeing all the bandages covering al the ports for the lapro and the huge scar and groggily telling my freind Ellen "I look like swiss cheese" before crashing out on a morphine buzz.
I actually was doing pretty well about day 3. I was HUNGRY tho. The rule after surgery, any surgery is you can eat when your gut wakes up. During a surgery, which is trauma to the body, the body will shunt blood to the vital organs and shut down the digestive system. So, when you fart you get jello. Its a very simple math problem. So we wait. Day 4- I feel a gurgle. Oh joy!! Let me back up and explain what they did before they closed me up. To test the resutured bowel site (called an anastamosis), they popped another tube up the hiney and filled my bowel with an iodine solution (iodine is brown) to the point of major distention to see if the stitches held. They did. I was leak-free, they drained me and then closed me up. Not all the solution comes out during the draining, its impossible not just some cruel joke bowel surgeons do for fun. So when I felt the fart coming I thought I was golden. I got up to hit the bathroom since i had to pee and felt the rumble so I went with it. There I am in my sexy gown,standig next to the bed, my hair standing straight up, an odd look on my face. an IV pole in my hand, and my favorite fuzzy white slippers at the ends of some very unshaven legs. I can remember clear as day: My dad is sitting there reading a magazine next to my bed. My mom has run to get a nurse because she wants me to eat something. So I get good and ready and brace myself and I fart. It was not air. Oh no it was not air. It was the iodine remains and it bubbled/shot out at a high rate of loud, squeeky goodness down my leg into my slipper and onto the floor which was carpet because this was the MP Surgical Facility, no linoleum here folks. I was mortified and thoroughly grossed out. I technically shat my pants- sort of. My dad didnt miss a beat, looked up, looked at me, looked at the iodine turd running down my leg, licked his finger, turned the page and kept reading. Classic. So my mom shows up with a nurse and there I am. My moms face was priceless. The nurse had seen it all so she just smiled, turned around and said "im going to get a new gown, wait right there". What a sight. At this point nothing phases me but it was indeed embarrassing. My dad is still reading like nothing happened. Wisely he had checked out of this episode. So I got to take a shower. With my IV pole and my mother half in there with me since I was still pretty weak and couldn't bend down. My slippers didnt make it. But I got some vanilla pudding (I dont think I can do chocolate ever again) so it all worked out in the end. Lets all say it together..... good times.
Ok so bottom line- the Dr that saw me in Jan. had it nailed. I had to finally find a Dr that would take a look. That took 9 months. Im so pissed at Dr. Whats-His-Cocky Attitude-Screw You I went to Med School So Im Better than You-Name that I seriously think I should send him a Christmas card with the photo of the SURGEON THAT HAD TO RESECT MY BOWEL HOLDING 5 FEET OF ADHESION-RIDDEN COLON IH HIS ARMS LIKE A BOA CONSTRICTOR this year and a nice short note telling him to get off his high horse and listen to his patients oh he who has clearly not seen or done it all!!! Take that you jerkoff, I DID need a colo-rectal surgeon because I knew something was wrong and you didnt listen you Turd of all Turds. I need to TP his house.
Im pretty much okay now tho I can feel the endo making its way back like a silent, slithering demon. I have pain pretty severe lately and I know Im facing another operation to remove more adhesions. Endometirosis doesnt go away. Its a life long disease. So many women suffer from it. So many more go undiagnosed because they dont have a doctor that understands or who cares enough to pursue the symptoms. Look it up sometime. Educate. Somebody you love may have this.
Long long ago in a far away galaxy.......
So for many years starting maybe when I got out of college (1993)...... we interupt this story to let you know that the dog farted and I am not able to breathe properly, so any typos from this point forward are due to hypoxia.
So Ive always been a runner. Ran track in high school. I was a sprinter. I dont do long distance very fast. But running keeps my butt and legs and bod looking good so I run. And I love running. Its solitary time for me. Me and my music and the trail. Always been that way, always will be. Im not a social runner. Anyway...... running would give me this bad side stitch even as far back as high school cross country. It was managable but it was annoying. Over time, it just progressed. I guess its hard to put a date on it but I do know that when I was first out of college I would get these pains in my left side that would put me in a state of not being able to function for a couple hours, that i would need to go lie down. This is early 90's. By the time 2000 rolled around running was starting to hurt too much to do. Constant pain in the left side. I muddled through. By 2003 I could barely go a couple miles without stopping to clutch my side. At the end of 2004 I bought a road bike so that I could exercise without that side stitch. This worked for the most part but when I revved my heart rate and got close to LT I would get bad pains in the same place and have to stop. So bike racing was pointless. I did few races with just pack finishes.
In late 2005 I decided I needed to find the cause because I was in pain pretty much daily. I had knee surgery for both knees done in Sept of 2005 so when I was healed I could then focus on the left side thing. So essentially January of 2006 I went to PAMF and saw a GI Dr. He told me I am stressed (no?!!!!!!) and that I should meditate and its in my head. Thanks for that Dr. Yoga Is The Source of All Healing. I asked to see another GI Dr and they told me I cant see 2 same speciality Drs in one department. Huh? So they gave me the name of a Dr up near Atherton. I liked her. Dr. Yang. She said lets do a colonoscopy and take a looksie. Fine, sounds like fun, sign me up. Well I had that done in March. You see, its time consuming. Find a Dr. make an appt, takes a week or so, then see Dr, then set up test, another week.. so time is marching on here. March 2006, one colonoscpoy coming up. Shouldnt be that bad. Little dope in the IV makes you sleepy you wont even know there's a garden hose in your rectum. Wrong! Such pain. Horrid pain that would rip me out of sedation to a screaming, writhing state until they could give me a bolus of something to knock me down again. Went home from that procedure and collapsed on my bathroom floor yakking from so much fentanyl. Martin just brought me a pillow so I could sleep by the toilet since I just did not want to move. Dr. Yang told us that she had never had such a hard time maneuvering a scope before, that it was catching and was very difficult to perform. She told me to go see my OB since she thinks I have endometriosis/adhesions and she doesnt deal with that girly thing. So I go see my OB. I tell her what my GI doc said and she literally gets bug eyed and says "I dont deal with bowels". Fab. So this April by this time. I make an appt with the head of ColoRectal surgery at Stanford. GOing for the big guns, the top guy who has seen and done it all with the colon and he will know how to help me. Wrong. After 2 hours of screwing around with his interns taking histories of me, he finally shows up all suited up and cocky. Jerk. Probably drives a BMW. He tells me "you are wasting my time, there is no way you could have adhesions in your bowels even after a c section in 1997". Martin just about flipped his lid. The ONE thing I have learned in my journey to better health is that just because you havent seen it doesnt mean it doesnt exist. So he tells me of a GI doc in Mountain View that used to be a colleague. Dr.T. This guy is good. And this guy is booked so its like May when I see him. Well, we do a boat load of tests.
One, is the endoscopic gut waves measurement test. You put a tube down in the small intestine and leave it there. It has a sensor. You wake the patient up and sit them up with this tube coming out of the mouth taped to the cheeck. You measure the waves of the intestine on machine. You then give the patient who is most uncomfortable a sandwich of dry tuna on wheat toast to eat- why why WHY couldnt it be a freakin' Pop-Tart or a chocolate bar!!!???? Then the probe measures the waves of the gut. This goes on for 6 hours. Awake. With 2 dry sandwiches every 3 hours. You try eating a sandwich made of bark shavings without water to drink with a tube coming up your throat. That sucked. THe worst part was pulling the 5 foot tube out through my mouth when we were done. Had to be done in 2 pulls. The nurse I swear to God looked like she was starting a lawn mower! The taste was foul not to mention the gag reflex. Result: I have Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS). No shit Sherlock. Thanks for that. Next test a few weeks later was to swallow a pill that had a bunch of rings in it (tiny tiny things). In 5 days we x-ray your gut so see if they are gone. Well they werent. One little ring was still there sort of caught up on the left side of the descending colon. Hmmmmm. So we now know I have slow motility. Great. So we try some meds to speed up my gut. They dont work. I do know of some good Thai dishes that can do that which taste much better than these pills. We try some other meds, they dont work. Meantime Im scheduled for a Hydrogen Breath Test. He suspects I have an overgrowth of bacteria in my small intestine (SBBO- small bowel bacterial overgrowth). Those little microscopic bastards off gas like there is no tomorrow (which were gas comes from, the bacteria by products of sugar and carbs) and the gas gets stuck in my left side and causes pain. Took 2 weeks to get in for that test since they only do it Fridays. So my test went off the charts. So onto antibiotics I go. Rifaximin for E. Coli. Didnt work. I did get horrid diarreah tho- yay !!!! 2nd round, didnt work. So now its mid May and we do a double dose of 2 antibiotics. I go on our annual 4 day Memorial Day ride from San Jose to Santa Barabara with 50 other freinds and I am sick as a dog from the meds. (sad face). So over the next couple months, we just sit pretty and take a break from doctors. I'd had it. I couldnt do anymore fasting and tests. I cried a lot. We stayed home a lot because I had to lay down all the time. My husband is a good man. Its been 5 months and no diagnosis other than pain in left side, lots of insane bloating in the evening and me having to lay down for up to 5 hrs til it works its way through. By end of Aug Dr. T. recommends this guy in Los Gatos, a surgeon, Dr. Cook. (let me give a shout out to Dr. Andrew Cook and his staff at Vital Care Institute for Women is Los Gatos). The man is world renowned. People travel from all over the world to see this man for endometriosis surgery. He is the best. Period. And he lives in my town! Score. We dont know i have endo yet at this point. I go see Dr. Cook. He is the kindest man. He LISTENED to me. He HEARD me. He said "if you're hurting right there then something is wrong right there. I am willing to do exploratory surgery to find out". I think I cried with relief. Sept 21, 2006 I was scheduled for laproscopy and he does his stuff at Menlo Surgical Facility (like 5 star hotel kinda place). When I wake up, he says we found the problem. I remember crying with relief. He found endometriosis. These rope-like adhesions that were in my abdomen. My colon on the left side where it goes from transverse (across the tummy) to descendning (down the left side) was attached to my ribs so that is why food and gas what getting held up, causing the bloating pain. Ahhhhhhhh. Yay!!!!! Im fixed. He also found more adhesions here and there and zapped them away with the laser. I recover pretty quick. On disability for a couple months. But the pain is not going away. In fact it is getting worse. We tried all kinds of treatments from B12 shots to nerve blocks to lidocaine patches on my tummy. It wasnt helping. I was distraught. Its easy to lose hope when you feel this way. I had already lost a year of my life at this point to this disease that nobody to pin point. So around December, he sends me for a barium enema, to get a contrast picture of my intestines. And yes, its as bad as it sounds. So you have to fast for this test. You have to fast for all the tests I did. Not eating for a few days is hard. I become a bitch. So would you if you were starving and only got to drink broth. So I show up for this test, empty, pale, annoyed, scared. I do the traditional hospital gown that is open in the back so there is a constant breeze up your arse kind of situation. I lay down on the metal table. They pop the tube in and inflate the balloon thing so the tubes doesn't come out on its own. Try this at home, put a party balloon up your butt and have your freind blow it up. Now leave it there for an hour. Good times. So they fill me with this chalky white contrast solution. It shows up as black on the monitor. It stops right about where I have my pain. It wont go anymore. The technician scratches his head. Im in pain now, that part of my gut is NOT happy. They rotate the table so that Im tilted head down hoping that gravity will help pull the dye up into my gut. Not happening. So they stand the table almost upright and drain me. Thats nice. im going with the flow here, literally and trying to be positive. I just want it over. They decide to dilute the solution further as it is pretty chalky. Fab. Up it goes again. This time is goes. Oh joy. Well after a half an hour of clenching my ass cheeks and grimacing in pain they are done. I go home. Dr Cook has another Dr he works with who specializes in bowel surgery. Dr. Brown . This doc called me and said, "I think I can help you". I cried. I remember exactly where I was sitting and I remember it was dark and rainy outside. I met up with Dr Cook to look at my scans later that week. It was unreal. Picture the Top Gun roller coaster at Great America. It looked like that. They couldnt tell where my gut started and where it ended.
Here is your medical lesson for the day- The normal large intestine(which totals about 5 feet in length) starts at the junction of the small bowel low down in the abdomen and goes up the right side of the abdomen to about the bottom of the ribs then hangs a corner (called the heptatic flexure- hepatic means liver, your liver is on the right) then it cruises straight across to the other side and hangs a corner down (the splenic flexure, your spleen is on the right directly under the last rib) and then it goes straight down (straight not curved) to the cecum, or last few inches of the bowel to the end. Got it? Good.
So this is what mine did. It cruised on up to Mr. Liver (Hello Liver!) and then instead of transversing, it had so much extra length it drooped down all the way into my pelvis. Then it looped back up to the splenic area (well hello Mr. Spleen) and on that segment that went up, it had a fold (picture using frosting in a tube and youre making a nice line and then you double back and go over part of it again and then continue) then it was connected to my ribs. Then, yes it gets worse, instead of just going straight down to my rectum, I had excessive coiling and looping of the bowel. Holy hell what a mess. So we scheduled surgery to go in laproscopically with Dr. Cook to remove more endo/adhesions and then Dr Brown would open me up (on my old c/section scar) and remove some bowel and sew me back together. This was a big surgery. I had to be squeeky clean for this one. Lets just say that the prep was a doozy. My colon could hold a quart of water since it was oversized so those lame ass Fleet Enemas they sell at Longs are worthless. We bought the super-deluxe, over-sized, extra- durable, bright red do it yourself scrub the rectum clean enema bag. Martin should have a medal. He's been scarred for life. 9 quarts folks, 9 quarts- 1 quart at a time for a total of 9 enemas I endured on top of drinking the saline that strips your gut clean. That was not a fun night. We laugh about it now. Actually we laughed about it then as I tried to hold a quart of water in for 20 minutes then did the penguin dance to the can for the explosion of water and Martin yelling "oh my god!!!!" . Good times.
The surgery went well, it took just over 2 hours. They removed 5 FEET of excessive bowel. I have the photos and if you want I can post them. I will never ever eat fajitas again. OMG!!! It was such a mess. I had that huge adhesion on that back looped part that was causing a stricture so tight, gas and food would get caught in it AND be trying to move upwards until enough pressure built to push it through. 5 Feet folks, 5 feet. So now I have a normal amount of bowel.
The recovery from this was 5 days in the hospital. I dont remember much from day 1 other than waking up, lifting my gown and seeing all the bandages covering al the ports for the lapro and the huge scar and groggily telling my freind Ellen "I look like swiss cheese" before crashing out on a morphine buzz.
I actually was doing pretty well about day 3. I was HUNGRY tho. The rule after surgery, any surgery is you can eat when your gut wakes up. During a surgery, which is trauma to the body, the body will shunt blood to the vital organs and shut down the digestive system. So, when you fart you get jello. Its a very simple math problem. So we wait. Day 4- I feel a gurgle. Oh joy!! Let me back up and explain what they did before they closed me up. To test the resutured bowel site (called an anastamosis), they popped another tube up the hiney and filled my bowel with an iodine solution (iodine is brown) to the point of major distention to see if the stitches held. They did. I was leak-free, they drained me and then closed me up. Not all the solution comes out during the draining, its impossible not just some cruel joke bowel surgeons do for fun. So when I felt the fart coming I thought I was golden. I got up to hit the bathroom since i had to pee and felt the rumble so I went with it. There I am in my sexy gown,standig next to the bed, my hair standing straight up, an odd look on my face. an IV pole in my hand, and my favorite fuzzy white slippers at the ends of some very unshaven legs. I can remember clear as day: My dad is sitting there reading a magazine next to my bed. My mom has run to get a nurse because she wants me to eat something. So I get good and ready and brace myself and I fart. It was not air. Oh no it was not air. It was the iodine remains and it bubbled/shot out at a high rate of loud, squeeky goodness down my leg into my slipper and onto the floor which was carpet because this was the MP Surgical Facility, no linoleum here folks. I was mortified and thoroughly grossed out. I technically shat my pants- sort of. My dad didnt miss a beat, looked up, looked at me, looked at the iodine turd running down my leg, licked his finger, turned the page and kept reading. Classic. So my mom shows up with a nurse and there I am. My moms face was priceless. The nurse had seen it all so she just smiled, turned around and said "im going to get a new gown, wait right there". What a sight. At this point nothing phases me but it was indeed embarrassing. My dad is still reading like nothing happened. Wisely he had checked out of this episode. So I got to take a shower. With my IV pole and my mother half in there with me since I was still pretty weak and couldn't bend down. My slippers didnt make it. But I got some vanilla pudding (I dont think I can do chocolate ever again) so it all worked out in the end. Lets all say it together..... good times.
Ok so bottom line- the Dr that saw me in Jan. had it nailed. I had to finally find a Dr that would take a look. That took 9 months. Im so pissed at Dr. Whats-His-Cocky Attitude-Screw You I went to Med School So Im Better than You-Name that I seriously think I should send him a Christmas card with the photo of the SURGEON THAT HAD TO RESECT MY BOWEL HOLDING 5 FEET OF ADHESION-RIDDEN COLON IH HIS ARMS LIKE A BOA CONSTRICTOR this year and a nice short note telling him to get off his high horse and listen to his patients oh he who has clearly not seen or done it all!!! Take that you jerkoff, I DID need a colo-rectal surgeon because I knew something was wrong and you didnt listen you Turd of all Turds. I need to TP his house.
Im pretty much okay now tho I can feel the endo making its way back like a silent, slithering demon. I have pain pretty severe lately and I know Im facing another operation to remove more adhesions. Endometirosis doesnt go away. Its a life long disease. So many women suffer from it. So many more go undiagnosed because they dont have a doctor that understands or who cares enough to pursue the symptoms. Look it up sometime. Educate. Somebody you love may have this.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
First EMT ride along experience.
As part of our requirements to graduate as an EMT (Emergency Medical Technician- aka The person in the ambulance with the not so stylish navy uniform that saves your ass when we arrive) we have to do do a certain number of clinical hours either with the SJFD or AMR. We need at least 10 hrs in the field AND 5 patient contacts. So on Sunday 2/21 I rode along with SJFD Station #4 for 13 hours. Little did I know that 2/21/10 was going to be documented as the "slowest lamest call day of the year". I didnt get the memo. Oh well. 4 calls, no trauma but some goooooood learning experiences. And might I add, an awesome bunch of firemen ! Thanks Kim the medic and station #4 for your time and generosity.
Lesson number 1 which I Iearned the hard way (is there another way to learn??). Question: " How do you take an auscultative blood pressure reading with a standard cuff on a ginormous, huge woman with arms the size of Tom Boonens quads?" Answer- you cant- without embarrassing yourself to the point of sweating in your freshly pressed Foothill EMT student polo shirt, turning red and looking imploringly at your mentor medic to help you out of this hole. The sound of the ripping velcro, the cuff flying off and my mortified expression as I looked up at the bank of firemen standing there watching must have been priceless. Im sure Im not the first ride along to screw up a BP but really, this was funny. I commend them for keeping it together. So I try to whisper to the medic who is like 4 feet away without Ms Large-A-Lot hearing that I need the super-mondo thigh cuff. Its not like you want to belt out "hey we got a huge one here, bust out that thigh cuff for me would ya?" The medic was already like 14 steps ahead of me (go figure) and he hands me the thigh cuff. So that day I learned how to use the "thigh cuff"...a totally legitimate piece of EMT equipment made for taking BP on the thigh, say, if your patient has no arms or has injuries too severe on the arm to get a reading. So this thigh cuff as you can imagine is like 27 feet long !! So Im sitting on this floral couch (that smells oh my god it smells and I wish I had plastic pants on because god knows what was festering in this couch) next to this very nice, kind, laaaarge woman in a mu-mu who is having bad abdominal pains (hence the code 3 call), trying to wrap this 400 foot long cuff around her arm, and make sure its snug AND make sure the damn BP gauge is not covered up by they aforementioned yards and yards of freaking cuff which has velcro so its sticking together and I have to RIP if apart and start over and her freakin tricep flab is unreal, its waving around and it wont sit still and Im sweating like some sort of farm animal and trying to maintain my professional composure ( I know how to take a BP goddammit) and screwing with my stethescope earpeices..., you get the picture? Taking a BP quickly, smoothly and looking good while doing it is an ART man, its an art and it takes some serious practice to look like a pro. So, its on, I feel slightly relieved that the process is at least in motion now. I start pumping the little bulb like mad. ANd Im pumping.... and pumping. And the cuff is making a crinkling noise as it inflates. And Im pumping. And the freakin needle is only at 60 mmHg and you need to get it to at least 200 and low and behold, like this moment couldnt get any worse.... my hand cramps from all the pumping at a high rate. SInce the cuff wasnt snug enough to begin with it was like I was inflating a small rescue raft. My hand !! No !!!! I could tell I wasnt going to last. It was like starting your sprint way too early in a crit. This was NOT happening !! Oh yes, yes it was. My hand siezed and I gazed up at Kim and he just stepped forward to take over. Holy shit I was mortified!!! I just then stood there and smiled at the patient while they got the BP while I massaged my spent hand behind my back. We all packed up and left when AMR got there to transport her to the hospital. I hung my head. I loaded up in the firetruck and apologized profusely. They told me not to worry, no big deal. I got over it after the next call when I was able to get a BP on a woman who had arms like a pretzel stick.
Lesson number 1 which I Iearned the hard way (is there another way to learn??). Question: " How do you take an auscultative blood pressure reading with a standard cuff on a ginormous, huge woman with arms the size of Tom Boonens quads?" Answer- you cant- without embarrassing yourself to the point of sweating in your freshly pressed Foothill EMT student polo shirt, turning red and looking imploringly at your mentor medic to help you out of this hole. The sound of the ripping velcro, the cuff flying off and my mortified expression as I looked up at the bank of firemen standing there watching must have been priceless. Im sure Im not the first ride along to screw up a BP but really, this was funny. I commend them for keeping it together. So I try to whisper to the medic who is like 4 feet away without Ms Large-A-Lot hearing that I need the super-mondo thigh cuff. Its not like you want to belt out "hey we got a huge one here, bust out that thigh cuff for me would ya?" The medic was already like 14 steps ahead of me (go figure) and he hands me the thigh cuff. So that day I learned how to use the "thigh cuff"...a totally legitimate piece of EMT equipment made for taking BP on the thigh, say, if your patient has no arms or has injuries too severe on the arm to get a reading. So this thigh cuff as you can imagine is like 27 feet long !! So Im sitting on this floral couch (that smells oh my god it smells and I wish I had plastic pants on because god knows what was festering in this couch) next to this very nice, kind, laaaarge woman in a mu-mu who is having bad abdominal pains (hence the code 3 call), trying to wrap this 400 foot long cuff around her arm, and make sure its snug AND make sure the damn BP gauge is not covered up by they aforementioned yards and yards of freaking cuff which has velcro so its sticking together and I have to RIP if apart and start over and her freakin tricep flab is unreal, its waving around and it wont sit still and Im sweating like some sort of farm animal and trying to maintain my professional composure ( I know how to take a BP goddammit) and screwing with my stethescope earpeices..., you get the picture? Taking a BP quickly, smoothly and looking good while doing it is an ART man, its an art and it takes some serious practice to look like a pro. So, its on, I feel slightly relieved that the process is at least in motion now. I start pumping the little bulb like mad. ANd Im pumping.... and pumping. And the cuff is making a crinkling noise as it inflates. And Im pumping. And the freakin needle is only at 60 mmHg and you need to get it to at least 200 and low and behold, like this moment couldnt get any worse.... my hand cramps from all the pumping at a high rate. SInce the cuff wasnt snug enough to begin with it was like I was inflating a small rescue raft. My hand !! No !!!! I could tell I wasnt going to last. It was like starting your sprint way too early in a crit. This was NOT happening !! Oh yes, yes it was. My hand siezed and I gazed up at Kim and he just stepped forward to take over. Holy shit I was mortified!!! I just then stood there and smiled at the patient while they got the BP while I massaged my spent hand behind my back. We all packed up and left when AMR got there to transport her to the hospital. I hung my head. I loaded up in the firetruck and apologized profusely. They told me not to worry, no big deal. I got over it after the next call when I was able to get a BP on a woman who had arms like a pretzel stick.
My first post-beware- full of rantings to just get 'em off my chest.
Ok so this is a blog. This is neat. I warn you, Im just gonna start typing, no idea where it will go. MY freinds know Im random and above all silly and WEIRD so its not like my stories will phase anybody. I still have to figure out how to do everything. Im really kind of a techno- idiot so I need to figure out how to do all the cool stuff and learn what "gadgets" are, etc. I wish one of the features was an auto-correct, I type so freaking fast I make a billion typos then I have to go back and fix them.... takes time away from unloading my brain.
My brain- theres a good conversation starter. I'm not sure who initially wired my cerebellum but they need to be fired. Im on overdrive all the time. Those that know me can attest to that :). Its good in a way, keeps me on my toes but it also makes me ponder too much and that can be draining.
So this morning, Im in a foul mood. The "usual". I've put some weight back on. This is the root saga of my daily bad mood- the weight struggle. Obviously my genetics favor a huge ass. Im not cool with that. The diet thing , its never going to end. It sucks. Im never going to look the way I would like, so , this is my daily struggle. I swear if I didn't have a sense of humor and such a busy life and chickens to round up out of my living room I would lock myself in a closet and cry 12 hrs a day. The problem is very bad- I want to be thin but not bad enough to actually stop munching in the evening. I have the BEST will power til say 7pm then its like a switch is flipped and I dont give a shit. Its annoying. I realize it. So why cant I get around that? Who the hell knows. If somebody has the answer could you send me a quick e mail? Thanks. And my freinds are all awesome and supportive: "you look fine.". I HATE that. "Thanks pals, thats super sweet of you to say that my fat, bubble ass is 'fine' ". Its not fine, I dont look fine so stop telling me I look fine. Am I the only one is annoyed by this? Probably not. I find that most women who are athletes are equally jacked up in the image department. I think the main issue here is that I am approaching 40. Im ok with the number, Im not ok with my metabolism taking a long term vacation. When I was in high school I weighed 125 pounds and had like No body fat-none. I ran track tho and was a super-star sprinter. Like my record still stands at my high school for the 200 meters. I qualified every year for CIS in the 400m, 200m and 4x100 relay. We had a kick ass squad and I was the anchor. Back then, BIIIIIG deal. Now? Not so much- get over it Rene :) I was ripped, I was trim, I had great legs but NO self esteem so I didnt realize how HOT I was until now. High school could have been soooo much more fun knowing that guys actually wanted to go out with me, cute guys. HIndsight..... I hope i can teach my daughter to know that she ROCKS and can be choosey about who she dates, even if she has a zit..... its ok... look past the zit, Meg, your mom didnt and High school sucked immense moose balls. I dont want to think about my almost 11 year old girl dating right now.... or ever for that matter. Moving on..... Now that Im almost 40 I see how being 18 rocks. I see 18 year olds walking around taking their bods for granted. They will be sorry in 20 years if they dont at least enjoy being firmer, less jiggly, less cellulitey, and smoother skinned.....they will. Then they will blog bout it in 2025- "like "OMG I sooooo should have appreciated my body more". Whatever.
Ok- so what else can I write about. Well in a nutshell my life has been book worthy. I have the BEST stories. im going to do my best to document all this in my newly created and ohsospecial blog! Bt that will take time. I have some spare time since I dont work but I shouldnt say I dont work. I dont get paid- thats it. I run the home and 2 active kids... its exhausting and a selfless job. I get no time for me. When was the last time I got a pedicure? My toenaiols are scary and Im stressed about this because for Final EMT skills testing, we have to do leg splints and we have to take our socks off so we can test capillary refill and Im mortified that one of my class mates will see my funky toes !!! See? Im screwed up... but I digress. I think I have a good way of telling my stories and sagas in person too, like lots of adjectives and exaggerated hand movements and body language and all that. People usually are busting up around me. Its great. I hope I can convey this in m blog. Actions speak louder than words kinda thing. Like this blog could bore everybody to tears which would suck so let me know if you hate this and maybe I can try to convey it differently? I dont know, this will be a work in progress ok? Ive also had a boat load of health issues that sucked so bad and I lived with it for so long. Multiple surgeries, folks, multiple. Like pre-op doesnt scare me anymore. Small gauge IV needles are like standard stuff now- needles that would send most folks running for the hills...not me, slap it in there, start the meds that make me not give a crap about the fact that Im heading into another huge operation. BUt through all that misfortune that was my anatomy I have found a way to retell it as a saga that I have survived. People are amazed and through them I realize it was indeed amazing. I guess I dont realize how strong I was and how much perserverance I had until somebody says "wow" and looks at me totally stunned when I tell them what I went thru. I seriously got dealt a bad health hand thats for sure. Im ok for the most part but its lurking and trying to come back. Im not ok with that. Im really bummed actually. But until Im to the point of not functioning again Im going to pretend its not lurking around the corner. I will get into those gross details in time. Another blog, another time.
Right now Im just unloading my brain. WOuld be great to have some sort of download cable from the brain to the computer USB port. Super fast, super easy. But until then, I will type.
I have so many stories playing in my head right now, like which one do I type first? Do I start a new blog or do I just tack in on to the post of the day? Does anybody care if I create and index on my blog to my life stories? I dont think so.
I think a good start would be to document the craziness of the pets I have.
I have the following:
1 horse- a big horse, who lives at a nice barn 10 minutes from here. His name is Monte and I need to sell him sooner than later.
4 Chickens that free- range in my back yard -and subsequently free-poop all over the damn place. They have names: Tarragon, Tetrazinni, Tweety and Teriyake
1 3 year old, 85 pound Great Pyrenees/Golden Retriever named Toby who chases his tail (still) and sheds like a shag rug thats been danced on too much.
1 15 year old dog named Andre who is really old, did I mention that he is old? Well, hes old and he just had surgery to save his 15 year old life. We love Andre.
1 Black cat named Roo who is a love sponge but hes mostly outdoor now that he thinks spraying my wall with his man-cat stentch is a good thing.... its not.
1 orange-tabby kitten named Oliver but he goes by Kitten-Cat, and Spots since he has these ridiculously cute spots all over his belly.
1 fat, lard-ass, miserable, scowling, hater-of-life grey tabby cat named Leila who came from my husbands ex-wife in the divorce- this cat has issues (do does his ex) and we think this cat got overly psycho-analyzed by that lady and is unfixable at this point. We feed her and let her out each night and she hisses at us and acts like we suck. She sucks. But shes ours so she stays.
2 Bearded Dragons that belong to Meg but somehow I feed them and make sure they are well heated. They look at me all aloof all the time like they are better than me. Whatever. Im ok with that, if it makes them feel good then I can play along. By the way here are your chopped mustard greens for lunch oh wise and smart Rocky and Casper.
1 Green Iguana names Zeus that belongs to Jared. He doesnt do much other than stretch out on a stick and bask then around sunset hides under his log. Excitement much? no.
A 50 gallon tank with lots of fish, they are un-named. The kitten loves to sit and watch them, we call the tank "Kitten TV"
1 tank of breeding crickets to feed the dragons. If you want an outdoor camping experience some evening, come chill out in Megs room with a sleeping bag and some microwave popcorn. Good times.... good times.
So I think I listed them all.
Most of the amusement comes from the kitten. The other day he let himself into the bearded dragon tank and curled up under the heat lamp. The dragons were either too stunned to move or they didnt give a rats ass as they all basked together like one happy reptile-mammal family. It was hysterical and I wish I got a photo. I was more concerned about pulling the cat out of there and dusting it off than finding my camera. Hind-sight.
More animal silliness you ask? Ok! So we have a dog door. The dogs USE the dog door. They go out, they come in. Its a perfect system. The back door is not the best closing door at times if you dont make sure it catches. Toby knows this. Toby shoved open the door one windy day (he HATES wind, its soo sad its funny) when I was at the barn mucking horse crap (another set of stories for another day) so when I got home... yea... chickens- all 4 of them had totally partied in my house. I came home to them sitting on the backs of the 4 dining chairs in the kitchen. It was too much. I had to herd them out of there. Do you know how hard it is to herd 4 stupid chickens? When I say stupid I mean brainless and retarded. Like they cant remember where they came into the house so they run around all confused. Ive got one chicken under each arm and am using my legs to scoot the other 2 out the back door. The two dogs and the kitten are sitting mid-stair case taking it all in. Thanks for the help useless guard dog #1 and #2. So I get the "ladies" as we call them, out the door and then turn around to survey the damage. You guessed it. Chicken shit... everywhere. If you havent owned a chicken you probably dont know they are shitting machines. Picture a gumball machine with a stuck lever and instead of cute brightly colored gum balls coming out you have black, tarry, chicken turds squirting out ON THE RUG ! Not the hardwood because that would at least be civilized.. but the rug and the WHITE RUG under the coffee table that is in the corner of the room. Its like they came in, took a gander around and said "right !!!! over there guys by the coffee table- lets just STAND around that area for like ooohhh, 2 minutes". Gross !!!!
So out comes the Soft-Scrub and a sponge that will never see the light of day again in its short life for a scrub fest. I love my life.
Hey, I just realized that writing all this has made me forget about my fat ass problem. Yay for blogging.
My brain- theres a good conversation starter. I'm not sure who initially wired my cerebellum but they need to be fired. Im on overdrive all the time. Those that know me can attest to that :). Its good in a way, keeps me on my toes but it also makes me ponder too much and that can be draining.
So this morning, Im in a foul mood. The "usual". I've put some weight back on. This is the root saga of my daily bad mood- the weight struggle. Obviously my genetics favor a huge ass. Im not cool with that. The diet thing , its never going to end. It sucks. Im never going to look the way I would like, so , this is my daily struggle. I swear if I didn't have a sense of humor and such a busy life and chickens to round up out of my living room I would lock myself in a closet and cry 12 hrs a day. The problem is very bad- I want to be thin but not bad enough to actually stop munching in the evening. I have the BEST will power til say 7pm then its like a switch is flipped and I dont give a shit. Its annoying. I realize it. So why cant I get around that? Who the hell knows. If somebody has the answer could you send me a quick e mail? Thanks. And my freinds are all awesome and supportive: "you look fine.". I HATE that. "Thanks pals, thats super sweet of you to say that my fat, bubble ass is 'fine' ". Its not fine, I dont look fine so stop telling me I look fine. Am I the only one is annoyed by this? Probably not. I find that most women who are athletes are equally jacked up in the image department. I think the main issue here is that I am approaching 40. Im ok with the number, Im not ok with my metabolism taking a long term vacation. When I was in high school I weighed 125 pounds and had like No body fat-none. I ran track tho and was a super-star sprinter. Like my record still stands at my high school for the 200 meters. I qualified every year for CIS in the 400m, 200m and 4x100 relay. We had a kick ass squad and I was the anchor. Back then, BIIIIIG deal. Now? Not so much- get over it Rene :) I was ripped, I was trim, I had great legs but NO self esteem so I didnt realize how HOT I was until now. High school could have been soooo much more fun knowing that guys actually wanted to go out with me, cute guys. HIndsight..... I hope i can teach my daughter to know that she ROCKS and can be choosey about who she dates, even if she has a zit..... its ok... look past the zit, Meg, your mom didnt and High school sucked immense moose balls. I dont want to think about my almost 11 year old girl dating right now.... or ever for that matter. Moving on..... Now that Im almost 40 I see how being 18 rocks. I see 18 year olds walking around taking their bods for granted. They will be sorry in 20 years if they dont at least enjoy being firmer, less jiggly, less cellulitey, and smoother skinned.....they will. Then they will blog bout it in 2025- "like "OMG I sooooo should have appreciated my body more". Whatever.
Ok- so what else can I write about. Well in a nutshell my life has been book worthy. I have the BEST stories. im going to do my best to document all this in my newly created and ohsospecial blog! Bt that will take time. I have some spare time since I dont work but I shouldnt say I dont work. I dont get paid- thats it. I run the home and 2 active kids... its exhausting and a selfless job. I get no time for me. When was the last time I got a pedicure? My toenaiols are scary and Im stressed about this because for Final EMT skills testing, we have to do leg splints and we have to take our socks off so we can test capillary refill and Im mortified that one of my class mates will see my funky toes !!! See? Im screwed up... but I digress. I think I have a good way of telling my stories and sagas in person too, like lots of adjectives and exaggerated hand movements and body language and all that. People usually are busting up around me. Its great. I hope I can convey this in m blog. Actions speak louder than words kinda thing. Like this blog could bore everybody to tears which would suck so let me know if you hate this and maybe I can try to convey it differently? I dont know, this will be a work in progress ok? Ive also had a boat load of health issues that sucked so bad and I lived with it for so long. Multiple surgeries, folks, multiple. Like pre-op doesnt scare me anymore. Small gauge IV needles are like standard stuff now- needles that would send most folks running for the hills...not me, slap it in there, start the meds that make me not give a crap about the fact that Im heading into another huge operation. BUt through all that misfortune that was my anatomy I have found a way to retell it as a saga that I have survived. People are amazed and through them I realize it was indeed amazing. I guess I dont realize how strong I was and how much perserverance I had until somebody says "wow" and looks at me totally stunned when I tell them what I went thru. I seriously got dealt a bad health hand thats for sure. Im ok for the most part but its lurking and trying to come back. Im not ok with that. Im really bummed actually. But until Im to the point of not functioning again Im going to pretend its not lurking around the corner. I will get into those gross details in time. Another blog, another time.
Right now Im just unloading my brain. WOuld be great to have some sort of download cable from the brain to the computer USB port. Super fast, super easy. But until then, I will type.
I have so many stories playing in my head right now, like which one do I type first? Do I start a new blog or do I just tack in on to the post of the day? Does anybody care if I create and index on my blog to my life stories? I dont think so.
I think a good start would be to document the craziness of the pets I have.
I have the following:
1 horse- a big horse, who lives at a nice barn 10 minutes from here. His name is Monte and I need to sell him sooner than later.
4 Chickens that free- range in my back yard -and subsequently free-poop all over the damn place. They have names: Tarragon, Tetrazinni, Tweety and Teriyake
1 3 year old, 85 pound Great Pyrenees/Golden Retriever named Toby who chases his tail (still) and sheds like a shag rug thats been danced on too much.
1 15 year old dog named Andre who is really old, did I mention that he is old? Well, hes old and he just had surgery to save his 15 year old life. We love Andre.
1 Black cat named Roo who is a love sponge but hes mostly outdoor now that he thinks spraying my wall with his man-cat stentch is a good thing.... its not.
1 orange-tabby kitten named Oliver but he goes by Kitten-Cat, and Spots since he has these ridiculously cute spots all over his belly.
1 fat, lard-ass, miserable, scowling, hater-of-life grey tabby cat named Leila who came from my husbands ex-wife in the divorce- this cat has issues (do does his ex) and we think this cat got overly psycho-analyzed by that lady and is unfixable at this point. We feed her and let her out each night and she hisses at us and acts like we suck. She sucks. But shes ours so she stays.
2 Bearded Dragons that belong to Meg but somehow I feed them and make sure they are well heated. They look at me all aloof all the time like they are better than me. Whatever. Im ok with that, if it makes them feel good then I can play along. By the way here are your chopped mustard greens for lunch oh wise and smart Rocky and Casper.
1 Green Iguana names Zeus that belongs to Jared. He doesnt do much other than stretch out on a stick and bask then around sunset hides under his log. Excitement much? no.
A 50 gallon tank with lots of fish, they are un-named. The kitten loves to sit and watch them, we call the tank "Kitten TV"
1 tank of breeding crickets to feed the dragons. If you want an outdoor camping experience some evening, come chill out in Megs room with a sleeping bag and some microwave popcorn. Good times.... good times.
So I think I listed them all.
Most of the amusement comes from the kitten. The other day he let himself into the bearded dragon tank and curled up under the heat lamp. The dragons were either too stunned to move or they didnt give a rats ass as they all basked together like one happy reptile-mammal family. It was hysterical and I wish I got a photo. I was more concerned about pulling the cat out of there and dusting it off than finding my camera. Hind-sight.
More animal silliness you ask? Ok! So we have a dog door. The dogs USE the dog door. They go out, they come in. Its a perfect system. The back door is not the best closing door at times if you dont make sure it catches. Toby knows this. Toby shoved open the door one windy day (he HATES wind, its soo sad its funny) when I was at the barn mucking horse crap (another set of stories for another day) so when I got home... yea... chickens- all 4 of them had totally partied in my house. I came home to them sitting on the backs of the 4 dining chairs in the kitchen. It was too much. I had to herd them out of there. Do you know how hard it is to herd 4 stupid chickens? When I say stupid I mean brainless and retarded. Like they cant remember where they came into the house so they run around all confused. Ive got one chicken under each arm and am using my legs to scoot the other 2 out the back door. The two dogs and the kitten are sitting mid-stair case taking it all in. Thanks for the help useless guard dog #1 and #2. So I get the "ladies" as we call them, out the door and then turn around to survey the damage. You guessed it. Chicken shit... everywhere. If you havent owned a chicken you probably dont know they are shitting machines. Picture a gumball machine with a stuck lever and instead of cute brightly colored gum balls coming out you have black, tarry, chicken turds squirting out ON THE RUG ! Not the hardwood because that would at least be civilized.. but the rug and the WHITE RUG under the coffee table that is in the corner of the room. Its like they came in, took a gander around and said "right !!!! over there guys by the coffee table- lets just STAND around that area for like ooohhh, 2 minutes". Gross !!!!
So out comes the Soft-Scrub and a sponge that will never see the light of day again in its short life for a scrub fest. I love my life.
Hey, I just realized that writing all this has made me forget about my fat ass problem. Yay for blogging.
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