A few weeks ago, I decided that it would be helpful to read a biographical book written by someone with some form of an intestinal condition. I was tired of feeling alone in my condition; anything relevant with depth would hopefully meet my needs. I came across a book called "Learning Sickness: A Year with Crohn's Disease," which I picked up at the local library. It's a relatively short book, 187 pages, written by an English professor working at Assumption College in Worcester, MA. The author, James M. Lang, was diagnosed with Crohn's disease in 1996 when he was a graduate student and new father.
Before I go on, I want to clarify that I personally don't have Crohn's disease. I didn't state what condition I was born with in my previous post. While I have no intention of describing my condition in depth at least for the time being, due to the stigma surrounding it, if you are so inclined you can read more about what I was born with (high I.A.). It's tough to even reveal that! But based on the positive responses I've received so far, I feel just open enough to share the link.
While Crohn's disease is very different categorically to high I.A., there are just enough similarities in symptoms, to the point that I felt a distinct connection to Jim Lang. Crohn's disease is a chronic inflammatory bowel disease that is very painful. The disease affects different parts of the gastrointestinal tract, and its impact varies greatly between individuals affected by it. Crohn's tends to "come and go," in the sense that it can go into remission and flare up again for weeks, months, or years at a time. Bowel movements are frequent and nearly uncontrollable. There is no "cure" for Crohn's disease. Crohn's can be treated, though, and if caught early, the lifetime impact can be lessened.
Jim Lang's book focuses mostly on one year of his life in which his disease was at its worst. His book moves forward and backward in time, as he discusses when he was first diagnosed with Crohn's and recalls other significant times in his life that were negatively (or positively) affected. I felt most emotionally connected to Jim's story when he discusses the bad moments and close calls of having "accidents." Most people really have no clue of the major stigma associated with these.
There were two major points that stuck with me from Jim Lang's book: a) patient advocacy and b) religiosity among those with chronic illnesses.
Without a doubt, it's critical when you have a chronic illness to be your own best advocate in the medical system. Doctors are not always right, and you will likely know your own body better than any doctor would despite the most advanced technology. When you're in conflict with a doctor's suggestion or opinion, and you absolutely know you're right, you have to stand up for yourself. With that said, doctors definitely have access to all of the tools and training to help you.
Jim's other point - that he believes many people with any kind of chronic illness are religious people - was intriguing to me. Certainly, if you're dealing with a lot of pain and suffering that you know won't go away throughout your entire life, you may look to a higher power. I myself am not religious by any means, but I consider myself a spiritual person (I'm drawn to the philosophies of Taoism and synchronicity - but that's for perhaps another post!). I was an atheist up until the time I had my first bowel obstruction in 2000. The combination of the trauma I experienced, along with the love that I felt from my friends and parents, made me think a lot more about what it means to be alive. Life is truly amazing and worth cherishing and reflecting upon.
I do think that Jim Lang over-sentimentalizes some things in his book. There are other factors that come into play in the way he deals with Crohn's disease, and those factors won't necessarily be as relateable to others with Crohn's or other intestinal disorders.
But the major sticking point about his book is that he wrote his thoughts and feelings down about what it's like to deal with his disease. As far as I know, there are no other biographical books about Crohn's, though there are quite a few practical and medical books on the topic. His book hits home, and you see the humanity that overshadows the disease.
That's what is missing for people born with I.A. No one, to my knowledge, has written a book or even a lengthy, in-depth description of what it's like to deal with the consequences of this throughout life. Someone should do that. Part of me would love to attempt a book, though I'm not sure if my personality lends itself well to such a long-term endeavor.
As I begin to hear from new parents with children born with I.A. - and even from other adults like myself - it's becoming all too clear that we've got to break through the stigmas and barriers. We're not alone. The stories need to be shared. Let's talk about things. Let's see it in writing.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Bad Dream: The Tractor-Trailer
It's not that often that I remember my dreams, but as my sleep was interrupted around 1:00am in the morning, I vividly recall in detail this particular bad dream. It was one of those dreams that feels very real, as I was experiencing a great deal of anxiety in the dream and even upon waking up. I figured I would post it here on this blog while I still remember it in such detail (then hopefully, I can go back to sleep in peace!):
I was at my parents' house and was just saying goodbye to my dad. I had rented a tractor-trailer, though no one I personally know seemed to be aware that I was doing this, including my dad. As I'm driving the tractor-trailer alone, I come to the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel (if you're not familiar with it, it's an expansive bridge/tunnel connecting Hampton Roads to the Eastern Shore of Virginia). Except in this dream, there were apparently a series of stairs on the roadway of the bridge-tunnel that you have to carefully drive your vehicle down. Fearful of the potential dangers of driving a large tractor-trailer down a series of stairs on a bay bridge-tunnel, I slowed down and cautiously moved downward. But apparently, I wasn't cautious enough, and the tractor-trailer overturned to its side, crushing other cars in the process. I'm physically fine, but I see someone trapped in the car immediately next to me but can do nothing for them. I call 911, my voice shaking, to let them know I've caused an accident. They keep on telling me to calm down. The dream skips here, whereupon my father enters the scene to pick me up at the bridge-tunnel. He tells me he assumes it's a mechanical problem with the tractor-trailer and that it'll be okay. Then he nonchalantly asks: why don't we go to the Outer Banks of North Carolina and relax for a vacation? I agree to do that, but I can't shake the lingering feeling that I'm the direct and sole cause of that massive accident.
That's when I woke up. What a silly dream! It's nonsensical, but it's funny how we can imagine it to be so vividly real as we experience it and even for a minute or two after we wake up. I'm not really sure what the dream means, if anything.
On that note, I'm going to try to go back to sleep! Feel free to laugh, process, or wish you had done something other than read about a dream! ;-)
I was at my parents' house and was just saying goodbye to my dad. I had rented a tractor-trailer, though no one I personally know seemed to be aware that I was doing this, including my dad. As I'm driving the tractor-trailer alone, I come to the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel (if you're not familiar with it, it's an expansive bridge/tunnel connecting Hampton Roads to the Eastern Shore of Virginia). Except in this dream, there were apparently a series of stairs on the roadway of the bridge-tunnel that you have to carefully drive your vehicle down. Fearful of the potential dangers of driving a large tractor-trailer down a series of stairs on a bay bridge-tunnel, I slowed down and cautiously moved downward. But apparently, I wasn't cautious enough, and the tractor-trailer overturned to its side, crushing other cars in the process. I'm physically fine, but I see someone trapped in the car immediately next to me but can do nothing for them. I call 911, my voice shaking, to let them know I've caused an accident. They keep on telling me to calm down. The dream skips here, whereupon my father enters the scene to pick me up at the bridge-tunnel. He tells me he assumes it's a mechanical problem with the tractor-trailer and that it'll be okay. Then he nonchalantly asks: why don't we go to the Outer Banks of North Carolina and relax for a vacation? I agree to do that, but I can't shake the lingering feeling that I'm the direct and sole cause of that massive accident.
That's when I woke up. What a silly dream! It's nonsensical, but it's funny how we can imagine it to be so vividly real as we experience it and even for a minute or two after we wake up. I'm not really sure what the dream means, if anything.
On that note, I'm going to try to go back to sleep! Feel free to laugh, process, or wish you had done something other than read about a dream! ;-)
Friday, November 5, 2010
Change is in the Air
November is apparently going to be a month of change for me, in big and small ways. Some changes have fallen into my lap, and others have been a conscious personal choice. Altogether, I think they are positive!
The first piece of wonderful news I received was that my father bought a new 2010 Toyota Prius, and he decided to gift his 2005 Prius to me! So, sometime later this month I'll be going down to Virginia to pick it up and drive it back to Bridgewater. I'm so excited for a couple reasons: a) it's always nice to have a newer car, and b) the Prius obviously gets great gas mileage. My 1998 Nissan Altima is really starting to show its age. It has nearly 114,000 miles on it, and it has its bumps and bruises. That car has treated me so well since I got it from my parents in 2003. I got the Altima when I received my graduate degree in Ohio, and the car took me to Idaho where I worked for three years, and then across the country again to Massachusetts where I've been working the last five years. I'm spoiled when it comes to getting free cars, but I greatly appreciate it! So I don't think I'm a brat. ;-)
In other news, my cell phone has been acting up over the last few weeks. The display has been demonstrating a kaleidoscopic show of red and blue colors intermixed with what it's supposed to be. Then this morning, I woke up and discovered the display was upside-down and in reverse. The only way to read the phone display was by putting it upside-down and in front of a mirror. So... that forced me to get a new phone this afternoon. I went to the local Sprint store and decided to go with the Samsung Restore. It's advertised as an eco-friendly phone - it's made of about 27% recycled material, and when I decide to recycle it and get a new phone, 77% of the phone is recyclable. Considering I chair the sustainability committee in my office, I guess the combination of the Prius and the Restore is a good image for me. :) I upgraded my service plan to the Everything Data 450 which means I'll now get internet, e-mail, facebook, and all that jazz on my phone. The Restore isn't as snazzy as the Blackberry, iPhone, or Droid, but it's like my "gateway drug" to those savvy phones. So far, it seems to do almost everything the smartphones do. I am already getting addicted to being "connected" 24/7, I fear.
Upgrading my phone plan will reduce my budget by about $20 a month, though with my 15% USAA discount, it's not really that painful. Plus I just cancelled my gym membership at Planet Fitness today. I don't really use the gym anymore. I get a good cardio workout from all my walking, and I'm thinking I'll invest in a few inexpensive free weights (or maybe get them for Christmas!).
Finally, I went to the NEACRAO (New England Association of Collegiate Registrars and Admissions Officers) conference yesterday in Newport, RI. I was equally excited and nervous about attending, since I'm strongly considering pursuing a position in a registrar's office in the not-too-distant future. I felt relatively comfortable at the conference, though. Some wonderful people who made me feel very welcome. At the "first-timers" breakfast, when all introduced themselves and their positions, I announced myself as a Resident Director but quickly followed that up by saying "But I'm not lost!" The sessions I attended and the people I met reinforced my hopes to transition to this career area. Don't get me wrong - there are several areas of Residence Life I still greatly enjoy (particularly my staff that I supervise) - but being an RD is not a lifetime career. NEACRAO was, I hope, the start of a greater life change.
The first piece of wonderful news I received was that my father bought a new 2010 Toyota Prius, and he decided to gift his 2005 Prius to me! So, sometime later this month I'll be going down to Virginia to pick it up and drive it back to Bridgewater. I'm so excited for a couple reasons: a) it's always nice to have a newer car, and b) the Prius obviously gets great gas mileage. My 1998 Nissan Altima is really starting to show its age. It has nearly 114,000 miles on it, and it has its bumps and bruises. That car has treated me so well since I got it from my parents in 2003. I got the Altima when I received my graduate degree in Ohio, and the car took me to Idaho where I worked for three years, and then across the country again to Massachusetts where I've been working the last five years. I'm spoiled when it comes to getting free cars, but I greatly appreciate it! So I don't think I'm a brat. ;-)
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| My '98 Altima, in the Canadian Rockies (2005?) |
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| I don't have an actual photo yet, but this is what the '05 Prius looks like! |
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| My Rumor2 demon cat display! |
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| Samsung Restore random stock photo :-) |
Finally, I went to the NEACRAO (New England Association of Collegiate Registrars and Admissions Officers) conference yesterday in Newport, RI. I was equally excited and nervous about attending, since I'm strongly considering pursuing a position in a registrar's office in the not-too-distant future. I felt relatively comfortable at the conference, though. Some wonderful people who made me feel very welcome. At the "first-timers" breakfast, when all introduced themselves and their positions, I announced myself as a Resident Director but quickly followed that up by saying "But I'm not lost!" The sessions I attended and the people I met reinforced my hopes to transition to this career area. Don't get me wrong - there are several areas of Residence Life I still greatly enjoy (particularly my staff that I supervise) - but being an RD is not a lifetime career. NEACRAO was, I hope, the start of a greater life change.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
New Aquarium Friends
The mourning period is over.
Obviously, that's a bit tongue-in-cheek. It's been a couple weeks since Sergeant Pepper, my oft-pregnant dalmation molly fish passed. I thought it time now to make some changes to the aquarium.
Today, I gave away another ten or so dalmation molly babies to the local pet store, which still leaves another ten younger babies in the tank. And then I went to Petsmart and bought two new additions for my aquarium!
Until now, I've only had artificial plants, so I decided to invest in a moss ball plant. They're pricey little things at $7.99 a piece. I just got one, but I figure it'll add some more life to the tank, improve the water quality, and provide a little food to my fish. As I've got nothing better to do tonight, I'm quite creatively naming this plant "Mossy."
The other new addition is a plecostomus fish. It's essentially a small algae-eating catfish. You know those creepy somewhat ugly fish that stick themselves to the side of an aquarium, with their big sucker mouths? ;-) That's what I got! He's good to have though, as algae has started to grow on the glass, on the plants, and the gravel. He'll clean that up. I've dubbed him "Putt-Putt." I really have no good reason for naming him that, but I think it's hilarious.
Lastly, Wiseguy - my silver lyretail molly - is definitely not a guy. I think Wiseguy's pregnant. Starting to look just like Sergeant Pepper did. Not good! I am SO over all these baby fish!
These molly fish are such floozies. That's right! I said it.
Obviously, that's a bit tongue-in-cheek. It's been a couple weeks since Sergeant Pepper, my oft-pregnant dalmation molly fish passed. I thought it time now to make some changes to the aquarium.
Today, I gave away another ten or so dalmation molly babies to the local pet store, which still leaves another ten younger babies in the tank. And then I went to Petsmart and bought two new additions for my aquarium!
Until now, I've only had artificial plants, so I decided to invest in a moss ball plant. They're pricey little things at $7.99 a piece. I just got one, but I figure it'll add some more life to the tank, improve the water quality, and provide a little food to my fish. As I've got nothing better to do tonight, I'm quite creatively naming this plant "Mossy."
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| "Mossy" the moss ball plant (the babies are already enjoying it) |
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| "Putt-Putt" the Pleco |
These molly fish are such floozies. That's right! I said it.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Gut Feelings
This is an intensely personal writing that has been a work in progress for the last few weeks, mostly tossed about in my brain, and now finally formed in this blog post. I warn you that this is not a topic easy for me to discuss, as I have generally worked so hard to keep it hidden from most people throughout my life. I'm swinging a steel ball through a brick wall that's been up for quite a long time. I feel this is a risk, but there's a sense of cautious hope that I can help educate others on an emotional level of what I've encountered. I'm not the only one like this in the world, not by any means.
The Classroom
I'm sitting in the front row in a high school lab classroom - the subject, chemistry. Before me and four other students is a long rectangular table with a black top. I'm sitting on a stool like the others are beside me, as the teacher writes some kind of formula on the chalkboard. I don't particularly like this class, and I lazily jot down notes. Something churns in my stomach, and I know I'm about to feel unwell. Sweat begins to form upon my forehead. A tightness grips my gut. I've been in this situation before. Relax... I'm fine. I don't need to use the restroom. Breathe in, breathe out. I try that a few times. No, that's not working. Can I hold off until the bell rings? I don't want to make a scene. Can anyone else around me tell that I'm feeling sick? It seems like all eyes in the room are staring at me. No, I can't wait anymore. My arm darts up. Come on, teacher, look my direction. Come on... come on... she sees me. "Yes, Michael?" The words stream out as quickly as I can get them out: "Can I use the restroom?" "Yes, you may." I jump up and speed out of the classroom as fast as my feet can take me. Will I make it to the restroom? God, I hope so. My face is warm, blushing bright red, and I'm fearful I'm not going to make it. I don't make it. Damn it, damn it, damn it... how am I going to deal with this? How will I hide this? I do whatever I can in the restroom. It's unavoidable - everyone is going to notice. I'm going to have to get to the school receptionist and have my mother pick me up. I still need to go back to the classroom and pick up my books and that bookbag on the floor. Someone sees me in the hallway on my way there. He laughs at me. Oh, this is so embarassing. I feel shame. Intense shame.
This scenario plays out multiple times throughout my life, before and after that moment in that classroom. The shame burns itself a little more stiffly into my self-image every time this happens. But that time in that chemistry class exemplifies the worst period of my life when it comes to issues such as this.
Moments in Time
A Sunday. August 19, 1979 at 12:45pm. That was the moment I came into this world, seemingly healthy. Two hours later, it was discovered I was not quite whole. I required major intestinal surgery, and two days later on the 21st, a colostomy is performed. Tubes in my body every which way. Incisions. Major discomfort. Crying. As a baby, I must have suffered a lot, though it was probably more traumatic for my parents to see their newborn child in this condition. Good thing we don't remember things from when we were born.
April 15, 1980: Back to the hospital to finish what was started. I gained some weight and was healthy enough for the major surgery about to be done. At the time, it was a new varation of a form of surgery, and I was lucky to have had it. My life could have been much tougher without it. But again, here, there were more tubes, more incisions. Painful for a baby, and just as much so for the parents. Functionally, the surgery corrected my condition. However, there would always be some difficulties and potential problems. The doctors knew that, and they informed my parents of this.
Throughout much of my young childhood, I didn't have much control. But if I got sick, that didn't really matter much... until I became a part of a wider social world in elementary school. At that age, if things want awry in class, I would deny my problem. I'd get in trouble with the nurse sometimes. My parents would be called, and I'd have to go home. During one instance, I became sick, did nothing about it, and managed to keep it hidden (to this day, I have no idea how I did that) until I took the bus home to the babysitter. She noticed. I got a severe spanking for that from the babysitter. Looking back at that moment in time, I feel anger for that woman. For all she did was reinforce that shame. The seed was firmly planted.
April 6, 2000: Junior year in college. It had been about four days of intense pain - the worst ever in my life. I had lost about ten pounds, and after three hospital visits and misdiagnoses of the stomach flu, the university's nurse saw me and decided something was horribly wrong, and she sent me to the hospital for a fourth time with a demand for a CAT scan. That's when they discovered I had a bowel obstruction and would require emergency surgery. Hospital staff were trying to get ahold of my parents, who were a six-hour drive away. A nurse sat beside me and told me she'd have to place a tube through my nose into my stomach (an "NG" nasogastric tube) to relieve the pressure in my intestines. Already frightened about the upcoming surgery, that experience was traumatizing and I remember being in such tears. An NG tube, by the way, is not fun at all. The gag reflex works incredibly too well as your body fights it. After that was done, I remember getting on the phone with my mom as I was so scared, and she said they would be on their way. I was actually thankful when the anesthesiologist put me under. Anesthesia is a gift at times like this. When I awoke, I found that I had a new friend called morphine. More importantly though, I found I had many friends - more than I really knew I had. Fellow college student leaders came in and visited over the next few days. There was a lot of love in that hospital room. Combine that with the joy to see my parents and my best friend Marcus and good friend Erika by my side for much of my hospital stay.
The doctor told me if it had been another 24-48 hours before they discovered the bowel obstruction, I would have risked death. I knew I'd never take life for granted from that point on. When I was discharged, my mother brought me by my room in the residence halls to pick up some of my things. My room had been cleaned by my friends. Another act of kindness. After a long drive home, I recuperated with my parents' help. That warm and safe feeling one gets when they're at home - well, that's about as strong as it gets, in my opinion.
As soon as I was permitted, I drove back to college, making multiple long stops along the way, taking it easy. I wanted to make it for the end of the year awards banquet with my fellow residence hall student leaders. Among them, that was my second home. When they awarded me "Executive Board Member of the Year," my path into my career in student affairs was solidified. That was a very happy moment in time. Support from my peers, from professional mentors. That's the kind of environment I wanted to be in and to give that support back to others.
And Since...
Since that time, I had another bowel obstruction in 2003, though it was caught early enough that surgery was not required (though the dreaded NG tube was a necessity). I do get sick quite frequently, especially when I'm stressed. Sometimes "accidents" (I hate that term) do happen. When they do, that horrible intense feeling of shame returns. I've been taking steps to come to terms with that shame particularly over the past year and a half. I've found some understanding people in my life recently, and it is because of them, that I am finally feeling more confident coming forward about what I've been dealing with in life.
I know this is at great risk, however. I'd like for people to know what it feels like. There's a horrible stigma, and I want to do my part to educate others and work to get rid of that stigma. This may not be my first blog post about this topic.
Final Thought
I leave you with this thought. A filmmaker, Roey Shmool, is working on a documentary about the experiences of people like myself. I'm looking forward to when he releases that film. If you can, take a moment to view the web site and the trailer for the work-in-progress at Wear It On the Outside.* When I first saw the trailer about a little over a year ago, I cried. It was the first time I caught a glimpse into others' lives like myself.
Now I'm choosing to do the same.
*Update as of April 21, 2012: It no longer appears that the film will be produced as the web site has been taken down. But you can still see the video of the original trailer on YouTube on the above link.
The Classroom
I'm sitting in the front row in a high school lab classroom - the subject, chemistry. Before me and four other students is a long rectangular table with a black top. I'm sitting on a stool like the others are beside me, as the teacher writes some kind of formula on the chalkboard. I don't particularly like this class, and I lazily jot down notes. Something churns in my stomach, and I know I'm about to feel unwell. Sweat begins to form upon my forehead. A tightness grips my gut. I've been in this situation before. Relax... I'm fine. I don't need to use the restroom. Breathe in, breathe out. I try that a few times. No, that's not working. Can I hold off until the bell rings? I don't want to make a scene. Can anyone else around me tell that I'm feeling sick? It seems like all eyes in the room are staring at me. No, I can't wait anymore. My arm darts up. Come on, teacher, look my direction. Come on... come on... she sees me. "Yes, Michael?" The words stream out as quickly as I can get them out: "Can I use the restroom?" "Yes, you may." I jump up and speed out of the classroom as fast as my feet can take me. Will I make it to the restroom? God, I hope so. My face is warm, blushing bright red, and I'm fearful I'm not going to make it. I don't make it. Damn it, damn it, damn it... how am I going to deal with this? How will I hide this? I do whatever I can in the restroom. It's unavoidable - everyone is going to notice. I'm going to have to get to the school receptionist and have my mother pick me up. I still need to go back to the classroom and pick up my books and that bookbag on the floor. Someone sees me in the hallway on my way there. He laughs at me. Oh, this is so embarassing. I feel shame. Intense shame.
This scenario plays out multiple times throughout my life, before and after that moment in that classroom. The shame burns itself a little more stiffly into my self-image every time this happens. But that time in that chemistry class exemplifies the worst period of my life when it comes to issues such as this.
Moments in Time
A Sunday. August 19, 1979 at 12:45pm. That was the moment I came into this world, seemingly healthy. Two hours later, it was discovered I was not quite whole. I required major intestinal surgery, and two days later on the 21st, a colostomy is performed. Tubes in my body every which way. Incisions. Major discomfort. Crying. As a baby, I must have suffered a lot, though it was probably more traumatic for my parents to see their newborn child in this condition. Good thing we don't remember things from when we were born.
April 15, 1980: Back to the hospital to finish what was started. I gained some weight and was healthy enough for the major surgery about to be done. At the time, it was a new varation of a form of surgery, and I was lucky to have had it. My life could have been much tougher without it. But again, here, there were more tubes, more incisions. Painful for a baby, and just as much so for the parents. Functionally, the surgery corrected my condition. However, there would always be some difficulties and potential problems. The doctors knew that, and they informed my parents of this.
Throughout much of my young childhood, I didn't have much control. But if I got sick, that didn't really matter much... until I became a part of a wider social world in elementary school. At that age, if things want awry in class, I would deny my problem. I'd get in trouble with the nurse sometimes. My parents would be called, and I'd have to go home. During one instance, I became sick, did nothing about it, and managed to keep it hidden (to this day, I have no idea how I did that) until I took the bus home to the babysitter. She noticed. I got a severe spanking for that from the babysitter. Looking back at that moment in time, I feel anger for that woman. For all she did was reinforce that shame. The seed was firmly planted.
April 6, 2000: Junior year in college. It had been about four days of intense pain - the worst ever in my life. I had lost about ten pounds, and after three hospital visits and misdiagnoses of the stomach flu, the university's nurse saw me and decided something was horribly wrong, and she sent me to the hospital for a fourth time with a demand for a CAT scan. That's when they discovered I had a bowel obstruction and would require emergency surgery. Hospital staff were trying to get ahold of my parents, who were a six-hour drive away. A nurse sat beside me and told me she'd have to place a tube through my nose into my stomach (an "NG" nasogastric tube) to relieve the pressure in my intestines. Already frightened about the upcoming surgery, that experience was traumatizing and I remember being in such tears. An NG tube, by the way, is not fun at all. The gag reflex works incredibly too well as your body fights it. After that was done, I remember getting on the phone with my mom as I was so scared, and she said they would be on their way. I was actually thankful when the anesthesiologist put me under. Anesthesia is a gift at times like this. When I awoke, I found that I had a new friend called morphine. More importantly though, I found I had many friends - more than I really knew I had. Fellow college student leaders came in and visited over the next few days. There was a lot of love in that hospital room. Combine that with the joy to see my parents and my best friend Marcus and good friend Erika by my side for much of my hospital stay.
The doctor told me if it had been another 24-48 hours before they discovered the bowel obstruction, I would have risked death. I knew I'd never take life for granted from that point on. When I was discharged, my mother brought me by my room in the residence halls to pick up some of my things. My room had been cleaned by my friends. Another act of kindness. After a long drive home, I recuperated with my parents' help. That warm and safe feeling one gets when they're at home - well, that's about as strong as it gets, in my opinion.
As soon as I was permitted, I drove back to college, making multiple long stops along the way, taking it easy. I wanted to make it for the end of the year awards banquet with my fellow residence hall student leaders. Among them, that was my second home. When they awarded me "Executive Board Member of the Year," my path into my career in student affairs was solidified. That was a very happy moment in time. Support from my peers, from professional mentors. That's the kind of environment I wanted to be in and to give that support back to others.
And Since...
Since that time, I had another bowel obstruction in 2003, though it was caught early enough that surgery was not required (though the dreaded NG tube was a necessity). I do get sick quite frequently, especially when I'm stressed. Sometimes "accidents" (I hate that term) do happen. When they do, that horrible intense feeling of shame returns. I've been taking steps to come to terms with that shame particularly over the past year and a half. I've found some understanding people in my life recently, and it is because of them, that I am finally feeling more confident coming forward about what I've been dealing with in life.
I know this is at great risk, however. I'd like for people to know what it feels like. There's a horrible stigma, and I want to do my part to educate others and work to get rid of that stigma. This may not be my first blog post about this topic.
Final Thought
I leave you with this thought. A filmmaker, Roey Shmool, is working on a documentary about the experiences of people like myself. I'm looking forward to when he releases that film. If you can, take a moment to view the web site and the trailer for the work-in-progress at Wear It On the Outside.* When I first saw the trailer about a little over a year ago, I cried. It was the first time I caught a glimpse into others' lives like myself.
Now I'm choosing to do the same.
*Update as of April 21, 2012: It no longer appears that the film will be produced as the web site has been taken down. But you can still see the video of the original trailer on YouTube on the above link.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Walking on Sunshine
There are precisely four "major" pieces of news in my life or of family and friends. Three positives, and one slight downer (but less significant than the rest, so overall it's pretty darn good). As I sip on a delicious venti soy mocha frappuccino from Starbucks, I'll start with the most obvious thing that is on the forefront of my mind that I've been training for since July!
Walking on Sunshine - Newport, RI Half-Marathon
Since July 21, I have been training for my second half-marathon in Newport, Rhode Island. As you all know, I'm not a runner. But I do push some mean brisk speed walking that has gradually improved since May. I started out in May walking at about a 14:30 min/mile pace, and now I tend to walk at a 13:45 (or faster) min/mile pace. I've adjusted my walking method by shortening my stride and speeding up my steps. That's done wonders in reducing injuries.
Today's half marathon (a full marathon and relay race also took place), sponsored by Amica and United Health Care, began at 8:00am on a chilly, breezy, but sunny morning along the water in Newport, RI. At the start of the race, it was about 48 degrees, though it warmed up to about 58 degrees or so by the end of race. I wore shorts with a long-sleeve bright orange Saucony shirt and my relatively new Nike shoes.
Saturday afternoon I had picked up my race packet and bib (#2138) and stayed overnight at the Royal Plaza Hotel in Middletown, RI. I had chicken parmigiana for dinner at the hotel restaurant. My stomach sadly was bothering me (what's new, though, huh?), and so some Pepto Bismol came in handy that night and on the morning of the half-marathon. I had my clothes laid out for the morning, and for breakfast I had an oatmeal bar and half of a banana. I drove the three miles to the Newport Grand casino parking lot which took about 30 minutes due to all the traffic, and I then took one of the shuttle buses which got me to the starting area at 7:45am. Lines for the porta-potties at the starting area were absurd, but I wasn't about to deny my body's needs, so I actually didn't start the race until 8:10am (along with about 500 other late-starters).
And now we get to the race! Initially, everyone was darting past me as the other walkers already started, and the late runners were kicking into high-gear right off the bat. I decided I wasn't going to take things slow, and I immediately started at my usual 13:30-14:00 min/mile pace. Thankful to get blood rushing through my limbs after standing around for so long in the chilly air, I was pleasantly surprised at how quickly I reached the first mile mark. And the second mile mark. Before I knew it, I was at mile 5 and feeling terrific. Around mile 6.5, I reached Ocean Drive for the gorgeous ocean views (this was the stretch that I practiced walking the Sunday a week prior). I found I was finally passing some slower joggers and walkers now, which strangely motivated me to walk even faster. Some tiredness kicked in around mile 8, but nothing too bad. At mile 9, I "ate" a GU gel pack, which boosted my energy levels. Seeing the mile 10 post was a rewarding signal that I was getting closer to the finish line, and it also coincided with a beautiful walk through the historic mansion district - extravagant multi-million dollar mansions with tall iron gates. Mile 12 was a blessing - the rest of the course was truly downhill, which was a joy compared to my last half-marathon in June when we were unfairly burdened with a steep uphill final climb. Some subtle tears starting welling up in my eyes, and for the last 100 yards, I jogged the rest of the way.
Final Time: 2:57:27 at a 13:33 pace! My goal was to beat the three hour mark, and I was thrilled to have succeeded in meeting that goal. In fact, it was my third best pace for any of my walks, and I felt great about that! I had walked my June half-marathon in 3:15:07 at a 14:53 pace, so the combination of a flatter course and an improved walking style definitely made a big impact. During today's race, everything seemed to work out perfectly for me - I couldn't have asked for better results, honestly. I don't have any photos of me yet as I did this race on my own, but I'll likely purchase the professional finish line photo of me, though, when it comes out.
I sure do feel sore in my legs and ankles, but thankfully this time around, I appear to have avoided any significant blisters or black toenails. Well fitting shoes and a good walking style make a difference!
Today, like 2,505 other half-marathoners and 1,006 full marathoners in Newport, I truly felt like I accomplished something.
Oh, and here's a taste of some of the music new to my playlist that kept me motivated during the race:
"Alive" by Pearl Jam
"Firestarter" by The Prodigy
"King of Anything" by Sara Bareilles
"My Sharona" by The Knack
"Defeat You" by Smashmouth
"Peaches" by Presidents of the United States
"Time Bomb" by Rancid
"Pas de Cheval" by Panic at the Disco
and of course...
"Walking on Sunshine" by Katrina and the Waves
A Congratulations Announcement to My Best Friend
My best friend Marcus, a great guy who I met in college during the very first day of classes my freshman year, is now a father! He and his wife just had a baby (their first) last night at 10pm, and I am so excited for them! I can't wait to visit them - and my new "niece" Sunny Marie - hopefully in November! I really wish I was there in Virginia right now to see them! Congrats Marcus and Kathy!
A House in the Outer Banks?!
My parents informed me tonight that they've put an offer on a house in Kill Devil Hills of the Outer Banks in North Carolina. As you might know, my parents, uncle, and I have stayed at different rental condos every year in the Outer Banks since I was much younger. Recently my parents decided they wanted to scope out houses down there so that we could have a "holiday" place to stay at that we own. It appears they've made a big step toward doing so! I looked up everything about the place, and it seems amazing! I hope the offer is accepted - although regardless my parents said if it doesn't, there are a few other houses they have their eyes set on. Gone would be the standard September vacations that tend to stress me out since they're always just after we open the residence halls at work. Fingers crossed, pretty soon we'll be able to go down there any time we choose at our very own place!
And the Sad News... Farewell to Sergeant Pepper
I bought three molly fish in late August - Champ, Wiseguy, and Sergeant Pepper. Sgt. Pepper was a dalmation molly fish who has probably had about 50 babies since I bought her. In fact, just a week ago, she gave birth to another batch of fish fry - and they appear to all be black mollies, which surprised me, considering all the other babies have all been dalmations, too. Well, over the last few days, Sgt. Pepper hadn't been looking too good. I went to the pet store on Friday afternoon to see if there was anything I could do for her, but there really wasn't. I think her last pregnancy (her fourth since August, the frequency of which is very common for mollies) was just too much for her. When I came back from Newport this afternoon, she was no longer alive. She brought a lot of new life into the world, though! I know it sounds silly to be sad for a fish, but hey... a life is a life. Farewell, Sergeant Pepper!
Walking on Sunshine - Newport, RI Half-Marathon
Since July 21, I have been training for my second half-marathon in Newport, Rhode Island. As you all know, I'm not a runner. But I do push some mean brisk speed walking that has gradually improved since May. I started out in May walking at about a 14:30 min/mile pace, and now I tend to walk at a 13:45 (or faster) min/mile pace. I've adjusted my walking method by shortening my stride and speeding up my steps. That's done wonders in reducing injuries.
Today's half marathon (a full marathon and relay race also took place), sponsored by Amica and United Health Care, began at 8:00am on a chilly, breezy, but sunny morning along the water in Newport, RI. At the start of the race, it was about 48 degrees, though it warmed up to about 58 degrees or so by the end of race. I wore shorts with a long-sleeve bright orange Saucony shirt and my relatively new Nike shoes.
Saturday afternoon I had picked up my race packet and bib (#2138) and stayed overnight at the Royal Plaza Hotel in Middletown, RI. I had chicken parmigiana for dinner at the hotel restaurant. My stomach sadly was bothering me (what's new, though, huh?), and so some Pepto Bismol came in handy that night and on the morning of the half-marathon. I had my clothes laid out for the morning, and for breakfast I had an oatmeal bar and half of a banana. I drove the three miles to the Newport Grand casino parking lot which took about 30 minutes due to all the traffic, and I then took one of the shuttle buses which got me to the starting area at 7:45am. Lines for the porta-potties at the starting area were absurd, but I wasn't about to deny my body's needs, so I actually didn't start the race until 8:10am (along with about 500 other late-starters).
And now we get to the race! Initially, everyone was darting past me as the other walkers already started, and the late runners were kicking into high-gear right off the bat. I decided I wasn't going to take things slow, and I immediately started at my usual 13:30-14:00 min/mile pace. Thankful to get blood rushing through my limbs after standing around for so long in the chilly air, I was pleasantly surprised at how quickly I reached the first mile mark. And the second mile mark. Before I knew it, I was at mile 5 and feeling terrific. Around mile 6.5, I reached Ocean Drive for the gorgeous ocean views (this was the stretch that I practiced walking the Sunday a week prior). I found I was finally passing some slower joggers and walkers now, which strangely motivated me to walk even faster. Some tiredness kicked in around mile 8, but nothing too bad. At mile 9, I "ate" a GU gel pack, which boosted my energy levels. Seeing the mile 10 post was a rewarding signal that I was getting closer to the finish line, and it also coincided with a beautiful walk through the historic mansion district - extravagant multi-million dollar mansions with tall iron gates. Mile 12 was a blessing - the rest of the course was truly downhill, which was a joy compared to my last half-marathon in June when we were unfairly burdened with a steep uphill final climb. Some subtle tears starting welling up in my eyes, and for the last 100 yards, I jogged the rest of the way.
Final Time: 2:57:27 at a 13:33 pace! My goal was to beat the three hour mark, and I was thrilled to have succeeded in meeting that goal. In fact, it was my third best pace for any of my walks, and I felt great about that! I had walked my June half-marathon in 3:15:07 at a 14:53 pace, so the combination of a flatter course and an improved walking style definitely made a big impact. During today's race, everything seemed to work out perfectly for me - I couldn't have asked for better results, honestly. I don't have any photos of me yet as I did this race on my own, but I'll likely purchase the professional finish line photo of me, though, when it comes out.
I sure do feel sore in my legs and ankles, but thankfully this time around, I appear to have avoided any significant blisters or black toenails. Well fitting shoes and a good walking style make a difference!
Today, like 2,505 other half-marathoners and 1,006 full marathoners in Newport, I truly felt like I accomplished something.
 |
| Provided marathon long-sleeve shirt, race bib, and finisher's medal |
"Alive" by Pearl Jam
"Firestarter" by The Prodigy
"King of Anything" by Sara Bareilles
"My Sharona" by The Knack
"Defeat You" by Smashmouth
"Peaches" by Presidents of the United States
"Time Bomb" by Rancid
"Pas de Cheval" by Panic at the Disco
and of course...
"Walking on Sunshine" by Katrina and the Waves
A Congratulations Announcement to My Best Friend
My best friend Marcus, a great guy who I met in college during the very first day of classes my freshman year, is now a father! He and his wife just had a baby (their first) last night at 10pm, and I am so excited for them! I can't wait to visit them - and my new "niece" Sunny Marie - hopefully in November! I really wish I was there in Virginia right now to see them! Congrats Marcus and Kathy!
A House in the Outer Banks?!
My parents informed me tonight that they've put an offer on a house in Kill Devil Hills of the Outer Banks in North Carolina. As you might know, my parents, uncle, and I have stayed at different rental condos every year in the Outer Banks since I was much younger. Recently my parents decided they wanted to scope out houses down there so that we could have a "holiday" place to stay at that we own. It appears they've made a big step toward doing so! I looked up everything about the place, and it seems amazing! I hope the offer is accepted - although regardless my parents said if it doesn't, there are a few other houses they have their eyes set on. Gone would be the standard September vacations that tend to stress me out since they're always just after we open the residence halls at work. Fingers crossed, pretty soon we'll be able to go down there any time we choose at our very own place!
And the Sad News... Farewell to Sergeant Pepper
I bought three molly fish in late August - Champ, Wiseguy, and Sergeant Pepper. Sgt. Pepper was a dalmation molly fish who has probably had about 50 babies since I bought her. In fact, just a week ago, she gave birth to another batch of fish fry - and they appear to all be black mollies, which surprised me, considering all the other babies have all been dalmations, too. Well, over the last few days, Sgt. Pepper hadn't been looking too good. I went to the pet store on Friday afternoon to see if there was anything I could do for her, but there really wasn't. I think her last pregnancy (her fourth since August, the frequency of which is very common for mollies) was just too much for her. When I came back from Newport this afternoon, she was no longer alive. She brought a lot of new life into the world, though! I know it sounds silly to be sad for a fish, but hey... a life is a life. Farewell, Sergeant Pepper!
 |
| Rest in peace, Sergeant Pepper! |
Friday, September 24, 2010
Walking Update!
Forrest Gump once said, "Those must be comfortable shoes. I bet you could walk all day in shoes like that and not feel a thing."
Well, I don't think I could walk all day in any shoes and not feel a thing. But I know I was not feeling comfortable in my Brooks size 10 sneakers. Too often, I have been getting blisters and black toe nails. I'm sure the sneakers were fine, but they didn't fit right for me. So, based on a recommendation from a friend from work, I stepped into Marathon Sports in Norwell, MA this afternoon aiming to find a pair of new sneakers!
The guy who helped fit me did a great job. I'm a strange bird when it comes to sizing for shoes because I've been gifted with a significant shoe size difference among my feet - size 10 for my left foot... size 8.5 for my right foot. It makes life difficult finding the right pair of shoes. There are some deals out there for "mixed pair" shoes, but the guy at Marathon Sports told me he could find me the right pair of shoes without that hassle. After the fitting routine, I ended up with the Nike Air Zoom Structure Triax +11 shoes, in a size 10.5. I think the slightly larger shoes will help cut down on the issue of black toenails and blisters.
I splurged at the store a bit. Thanks to the rave review I've heard from my friend Erin, I decided to get the Nike + iPod Sport Kit. It's like a fancy high-tech pedometer that hooks up to your iPod. A sensor goes into a specially designed pit in the inside sole of my new Nike sneakers. Then I connect a small "receiver" into my iPod nano that detects the sensor as I walk. Now my iPod actually talks to me as I'm walking, telling me how I'm doing in terms of distance, time, and pace. It's not the annoying GPS voice, but a pleasant motivating voice. Then at the end of the walk, the results are analyzed and put into a cool chart on my computer. Pretty awesome! If you follow me on Facebook, you'll probably start seeing all the crazy data it spits out onto my profile.
Also, if you're a walker (or a runner), don't you hate all the stuff in your pockets bouncing around? I know I hate it - especially my cell phone! I purchased an Amphipod Micropack Satellite that clamps onto the waistband of my pants/shorts. Plenty of space for the phone, keys, and ID. And the last thing I got was a long-sleeve bright orange "wicking" shirt. All the shirts I have for walking are short-sleeve. The weather's getting cooler, so soon I'll need a good long-sleeve shirt designed for all that sweating! (eww)
I walked four miles this afternoon with everything above (except for the long sleeve shirt), tested it all out, and I loved it! Can you believe I'm now just about three weeks away from my UnitedHealthCare half marathon in Newport, RI on October 17th? Oh, I can't... so pumped for it! Check out the course map. Training-wise, this Sunday is my weekly long-distance walk, and it's the longest one - 10.5 miles (hey, that matches my shoe size!). From Sunday on, the tapering begins - shorter training distances.
Stay tuned.
Well, I don't think I could walk all day in any shoes and not feel a thing. But I know I was not feeling comfortable in my Brooks size 10 sneakers. Too often, I have been getting blisters and black toe nails. I'm sure the sneakers were fine, but they didn't fit right for me. So, based on a recommendation from a friend from work, I stepped into Marathon Sports in Norwell, MA this afternoon aiming to find a pair of new sneakers!
Also, if you're a walker (or a runner), don't you hate all the stuff in your pockets bouncing around? I know I hate it - especially my cell phone! I purchased an Amphipod Micropack Satellite that clamps onto the waistband of my pants/shorts. Plenty of space for the phone, keys, and ID. And the last thing I got was a long-sleeve bright orange "wicking" shirt. All the shirts I have for walking are short-sleeve. The weather's getting cooler, so soon I'll need a good long-sleeve shirt designed for all that sweating! (eww)
Stay tuned.
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