Three down, three more weeks to go… until I can run again. The first week wasn’t bad. I was too sore from the pelvic reconstruction surgery, too tired, too distracted by packing and moving. The second week we were in the mountains, and walking slowly at elevation was more than enough activity for my recovering body. This week I’m feeling closer to normal, like I could run if I wanted to. The problem is, I can’t run – for another three weeks, according to my surgeon.
Actually, the problem is not that I can’t run, although I might like to go for a short jog. The problem is that the longer I am unable to run, the harder it will be for me to begin running again. I get lazier by the day knowing that it takes twice or three times as long to regain the fitness as it does to lose my fitness. Hiking to the rescue!
I am slow and guarded, but I am hiking, and very happy about that. Tomorrow we will explore Eldorado Springs near Boulder, and I can’t wait. This photo was taken on a hike named the Royal Arch, and it took us past a protected area where it sounded like dinosaurs were screeching – they were raptors! I felt like we were on a set for Land of the Lost. The sights and sounds on these hikes more than make up for what I might be missing on a run. Check back soon for footage from Eldorado Springs!
I think that I cannot preserve my health and spirits, unless I spend four hours a day at least - and it is commonly more than that - sauntering through the woods and over the hills and fields, absolutely free from all worldly engagements. ~Henry David Thoreau
I’ve been reminding my kids to clean up after themselves for a long time now, like since they were born, it seems. Even though they’ve heard my clean up refrain for eleven and nine years now, they still need coaxing. Gentle reminders are usually enough to get the ball rolling and the mess cleaned up.
The other morning my son came into the living room here in our cabin in the mountains, and sat quietly on the couch. I had our satellite radio tuned in to the morning news, and the reporter was talking about information related the Gulf oil spill.
I didn’t realize he was listening to the radio report until he uttered his first words of the morning. “Mama, why isn’t that company cleaning up all of the oil that is spilling out into the ocean?” Good question.
We talked about methods that are being used, unsuccessfully, to try and contain the oil. This progressed into conversation about the fish, birds, people and the environment and how they are all being adversely affected by the ever-growing oil slick. In the end, his question still loomed. I was really surprised by the extent of his interest and concern, and seeing the problem from his nine-year-old perspective makes the clean up even more pressing.
You can read updates about the oil spill right HERE.
‘We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors, we borrow it from our children’ - Native American Proverb
It’s been just over two weeks since I was sliced and diced, and I’m very happy to report that I have been able
to hit the trails here in Estes Park, Colorado, on easy trails in Rocky Mountain National Park.
I still can’t lift anything or strain or run or do much more than walk, but I am happy to be walking. And peeing on my own. That whole self-catheterization situation was really unpleasant, especially considering how often I have to pee. My bladder still feels rather like it is in a vice, but it seems to be loosening up a bit. Now it only takes me five minutes to void my bladder, as opposed to the ten minutes it was taking me last week. As we say in my house: poco a poco. Little by little. At this point I’ll take what I can get.
I am grateful to have survived the surgery, to have had the opportunity for an improved quality of life, and to be in the beautiful Rocky Mountains.
‘Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.’ – Ralph Waldo Emerson
We have arrived in Colorado intact, our only casualty was one shredded trailer tire and a dog bed, which was torn to pieces on the final leg of our trip by our slightly neurotic Golden Retriever. He just got tired of the drive, I think. Now we are back in Estes Park for one week, at the YMCA Camp of the Rockies, one of our favorite destinations.
One interesting dynamic about this YMCA establishment is that they employ a large number of retirees for seasonal work. Their work is not particularly physically demanding, but these older workers are cashiers or cafeteria or laundromat workers, and in exchange for their hours they are provided with free housing for the summer. It is really very refreshing to see part of our aging population so engaged, such an indispensable part of daily living here.
Similarly when we were packing up our storage containers just last week, one of the four men who came to help was a more mature looking fellow, and I asked him outright how old he was, knowing that the day would be long, hot and labor intensive. “I’m 72, young lady,” was his reply. I was shocked to see him working alongside men who were 45 years his junior, without missing a step. Later in the afternoon as the temperature reached 100 I asked if he were ready for a nap, or at least a break. “No m’am. I’ve been working this way all my life. I’ll take a nap around 10:30 tonight.” Then I asked if he wanted to arm wrestle, and that got a smile out of him. He was incredible!
There is inspiration all around me. Aging is inevitable, but how we approach our own maturation is largely up to each of us. I, for one, hope to live up to the example of Mr. Willie, the 72 year old man who helped pack up our belongings.
“How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you were?” - Satchel Paige
If you ask my kids what they like most about their father, my husband, they would say (and often do) that he plays with them, and that he is both funny and fun to be with. They would also say that he is very kind and loving. He is all of those things and much more, which is why I am dedicating my blog today to my husband, who makes me a better person and can brighten the gloomiest day instantaneously.
During our road trip to Denver he asked if we could stay longer than we normally would have at our hotel on the final morning of our journey to watch television - the first World Cup match of the morning. When I said, “Of course we can” he broke into song, which I happened to capture on my handy iPhone (I was checking my email when the singing began). Watch the short video clip below.
I’m pretty sure my kids ha=ve no idea that they hit the jackpot in the father department, but I’m hoping that with time they’ll figure it out for themselves. Nicolas Kristof wrote a lovely column about his own father that I really enjoyed, and you can read it rightHERE. I hope that you enjoy father’s day this year!
Our first meal stop on the road from Waco to Denver was all business. Because we are traveling with our three dogs we always leave an adult behind with the car to walk the dogs while the other three go in for our food. I took the kids to grab some dinner; my daughter had Chinese food while the rest of us opted for Subway, which was right next door. On our way out of Subway I noticed a homeless man sitting at a table inside, his shopping cart parked right outside the door. My kids are now old enough to know better, so I didn’t prompt them about what not to do or say as we walked by.
Once in the parking lot Celia told me that she left her fortune cookie on the man’s table so that he would have something to eat.
Celia: “I hope he has a good fortune, Mommy. I feel so sad for him.”
Me: “What else do you think we can do for him?”
Celia: “I can leave him the rest of my food. That’s what I want to do.”
And with that she began walking back across the parking lot alone. I caught up with her and we left her boxed sesame chicken in the man’s cart.
Celia: “Thank you Mommy. That makes me feel better.”
We talked about the difference of our being temporarily homeless and staying in hotels with the homeless man’s dilemma as we drove and agreed that we are indeed very fortunate. I was glad for the encounter.
Now we are a little more than halfway through our road trip from Waco to Denver, and staying at a hotel in New Mexico. Last night we ordered Chinese takeout and ate dinner in our room. After dinner we all took turns sharing our fortune cookie sayings. Mine read: Home is where the heart is. How true!
‘Where thou art – that- is Home.’ - Emily Dickinson
The surgery went well. Before the lights went out I remember sitting bolt upright on the OR table and introducing myself to the third year Uro-Gynecology Fellow who was about to remove my uterus. He was surprised but very polite; I had never met him and I wanted to at least know him. I told him to be careful not to accidentally cut my ureter or nick my bladder while he worked on the uterus removal. He told me he’d be sure not to make such mistakes. I asked if there were going to be any music playing during the 2.5 hour procedure. When told that my surgeon never had music in his OR I told them that there would indeed be music that day, and proceeded to regale the OR staff with my loud rendition of ‘Oh What A Beautiful Morning’. I also remember asking the anesthesiologist to make eye contact with me (he was upside down) and having him pinky promise to keep me breathing and alive. I was really anxious and bothering everyone in there, so I’m sure they were relieved to have me knocked out and quiet. Next thing I knew it was lights up and pain city in the recovery suite, and I squeezed the crap out of some unsuspecting nurse’s hand until they figured out how to get my discomfort under control.
The good thing about having surgery the week before moving is that I am reminded about what’s really important. Stuff? Not that important. It’s getting packed. We’ve had help, and that’s been great. It will happen and we will be on the road to Colorado in just a few days. What is more important is having my GI system back in action, and my bladder. My family and friends have been most loving and kind in my hours of need. For these things I am thankful this week.
‘Happiness lies, first of all, in health.’ – George William Curtis, Lotus-Eating.
Because we are in the process of moving, my house looks like a tornado has blown through it. A LOT. I have this completely random approach to packing, moving from one room to the next without ever really finishing what I’ve begun in any one room, so every room is a disaster. Several days after I began packing boxes, my husband suggested that we create a master list and assign each box a letter and number that would correspond with our master list, and then we could pack the trailer with the items in numerical order, yadda, yadda, yadda. He was met with a blank stare, because I’m pretty sure that he’ll be packing one box to every dozen or so that I pack, and that is not exactly how I operate. I pretty much put stuff in the box, tape it, mark it up and throw it on the truck. He, on the other hand, is very orderly and thoughtful about the entire process, from start to finish. The conversation about that master list did not last long, needless to say.
In our 18 years together, this will be our 8th move. We’ve criss-crossed the country from New York to Texas to California to Alaska and back to Texas and now to Colorado, with smaller stops in between. Our first move involved baggage we checked onto an airplane; we had not more than our clothing and guitars; life was simple back then. Now we require a TRAILER to move our stuff – shocking! Turns out furniture is pretty bulky and makes moving a lot more complicated. And nothing helps you realize just how much you own than packing it into individual boxes that require transportation. That’s why I cull through the crap and donate, donate and donate some more, because I really dislike moving what we don’t need or use. Sometimes I think I dislike even moving the things I DO need and use.
Today I found not one but TWO sets of car keys in a purse I haven’t touched since 2003. One set was to a Subaru we owned in Alaska, which we sold before we left Alaska. Oh well. The other was a key to my trusty minivan, and I can always use an extra one of those. The purse, by the way, has been donated, along with many other things I don’t really need. Good thing I cleaned it out!
‘Besides the noble art of getting things done, there is the noble art of leaving things undone. The wisdom of life consists in the elimination of non-essentials.’ - Lin Yutang
Corey Haas was born with a genetic visual impairment called Leber’s Congenital Amaurosis. It is a childhood version of Retinitis Pigmentosa, which leaves people functionally blind.
Take a few moments to watch a video of Corey’s incredible journey through a clinical trial involving gene therapy for his retina, which has restored much of his vision.
I’ve always enjoyed 20/15 vision, until the last few years. Lately I have to hold things I’m trying to read at arms length, and I sometimes find myself becoming a bit frustrated when things are not immediately in focus. It’s so easy to take things for granted when they come easily to us. When I see stories like that of Corey it help me come back to a place of gratitude for the vision I enjoy, and that so many others wish they had. Watch for yourself and see if you don’t think it’s amazing, too.
‘Progress always involves risks. You can’t steal second base and keep your foot on first.’ – Frederick B. Wilcox
My daughter has begun down the slippery slope of adolescence, and her moods are utterly unpredictable. One consistency I have noticed, though, has been her increasingly negative outlook. Of her daily experiences, those that are bad tend to stick like glue, and the positive seem to bounce off of her like rubber. She has never really been what I’d call an easy-going child, but I’m still surprised by it almost every day. More like dismayed, actually, but I’m taking action to help her find her own daily dose of moxi.
A while ago I decided that I should try to help her find a few good things about her day, an idea I read about on the Greater Good website. Each night we brainstorm at least three good things about her day. If she has trouble coming up with some (which is not usual), I give her time to think, and she always pulls through. Research has proven that practicing gratitude makes us feel better, happier, so I’m trying to make it a regular part of our daily routine. Keeping a gratitude journal is another great way to practice this habit. We’re taking small steps, but eventually I hope she will want to do that on her own.
Here’s a short video of a follow-up conversation we had tonight, after her return to school today from a week in Colorado. This morning she was feeling very anxious about returning to school and had asked me if she could just not finish out the final three days of the school year. She’s had a difficult time fitting in and gets teased quite a bit, but we’ve been trudging through it. Here she is, talking about her day:
Three down, three more weeks to go… until I can run again. The first week wasn’t bad. I was too sore from the pelvic reconstruction surgery, too tired, too distracted by packing and moving. The second week we were in the mountains, and walking slowly at elevation was more than enough activity for my recovering body. This week I’m feeling closer to normal, like I could run if I wanted to. The problem is, I can’t run – for another three weeks, according to my surgeon. 
I’ve been reminding my kids to clean up after themselves for a long time now, like since they were born, it seems. Even though they’ve heard my clean up refrain for eleven and nine years now, they still need coaxing. Gentle reminders are usually enough to get the ball rolling and the mess cleaned up. 
It’s been just over two weeks since I was sliced and diced, and I’m very happy to report that I have been able
to hit the trails here in Estes Park, Colorado, on easy trails in Rocky Mountain National Park. 
and a dog bed, which was torn to pieces on the final leg of our trip by our slightly neurotic Golden Retriever. He just got tired of the drive, I think. Now we are back in Estes Park for one week, at the YMCA Camp of the Rockies, one of our favorite destinations. 
are traveling with our three dogs we always leave an adult behind with the car to walk the dogs while the other three go in for our food. I took the kids to grab some dinner; my daughter had Chinese food while the rest of us opted for Subway, which was right next door. On our way out of Subway I noticed a homeless man sitting at a table inside, his shopping cart parked right outside the door. My kids are now old enough to know better, so I didn’t prompt them about what not to do or say as we walked by.
have this completely random approach to packing, moving from one room to the next without ever really finishing what I’ve begun in any one room, so every room is a disaster. Several days after I began packing boxes, my husband suggested that we create a master list and assign each box a letter and number that would correspond with our master list, and then we could pack the trailer with the items in numerical order, yadda, yadda, yadda. He was met with a blank stare, because I’m pretty sure that he’ll be packing one box to every dozen or so that I pack, and that is not exactly how I operate. I pretty much put stuff in the box, tape it, mark it up and throw it on the truck. He, on the other hand, is very orderly and thoughtful about the entire process, from start to finish. The conversation about that master list did not last long, needless to say. 
Today I found not one but TWO sets of car keys in a purse I haven’t touched since 2003. One set was to a Subaru we owned in Alaska, which we sold before we left Alaska. Oh well. The other was a key to my trusty minivan, and I can always use an extra one of those. The purse, by the way, has been donated, along with many other things I don’t really need. Good thing I cleaned it out! 
