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Training: Week 2, Day 5
Time: 2 hours
Distance: 23.76 miles
Power Song: Lights by Editors
I know the picture on the right hand side isn't the best-- my eyes are closed, and well it does look like I'm squatting, which I'm not, I may be open about my colitis, but only within legal limits. Like my Dad I carry a camera with me a lot. However, as you can see from his other work on this blog, D.W.B. is a true artist and captures the good, the bad and the ugly- mostly the ugly when I'm the topic.
Myself, I'm more commercial and prefer pretty things, or at least not bad looking poses. This was the best self portrait I managed on this trip, as a side note it is incredibly challenging to balance a camera on your bike helmet. Periodically I'll post photos that I take while I'm training. I stopped for these photos because the roses growing on the side of the trail were, well... pretty.
January 5, 2004--After my take down surgery I did a lot of pigheaded things. The first was taking a student teaching position. I wasn't even suppose to student teach until the following fall-- I still had one education class and two history classes for my minor left to take. But exceptions are made everyday, and this was huge exception that had a lot of political force behind it with me as the head mast. While the placement was ideal for me-- working with at-risk youth-- and the condition one I flourished in-- my advising teacher said 'see you later' after week one-- in no way should I have been there. Between classes I was be in the bathroom vomiting. My students, most of who were recovering addicts, looked better than I did.
On top of that, a condition to my early placement was that I had to take my remaining education class, while I was student teaching. Oh yeah, I was also still finishing up one class from the fall semester-- I'd managed to finish 14 of my 18 credit load before I left for surgery, but I still had that pesky four credits left to finish up.
My second biggest mistake began the day I went into school really not feeling well--- I mean super not well. I went home before classes even began. I barely got myself home before the pain was throbbing through me so strongly it knocked me to my knees. I don't remember calling my best friend, or her 110 pound body pulling my 200 pound one to the car. I don't remember her screaming at the nurses to let her into my room. I don't remember seeing my three other friends, who were also in the waiting room, all of them asking to see me.
I do remember feeling like something had exploded inside of me. I remember the doctor telling me not to scream, I was upsetting people. I told him I'd stop screaming, if he'd stop poking me. I remember telling the ER over and over again that it wasn't my colitis-- I didn't have colitis anymore because I didn't have a colon.
I said over and over again to call my surgeon in Grand Rapids. Instead, they called their surgeon who told me that if he cut me open, he'd be remove more intestine. That's when panic overtook me-- Was my pouch failing? Was something leaking? Would I have to have a permanent colostomy bag? This is the point when the ER decided it was time for me to have more drugs.
Very few memories stick with me after that extra dose of feel good juice. My dad on the phone telling me they were going to fly me to Grand Rapids, even in a drug haze I could tell from his tone I was in trouble-- not medically speaking either. Seeing my parents at the end of the hallway as the aero-med team rolled me into Spectrum Health hospital.
And finally, the aero-med nurses staying with me until Spectrum's nurses took over. All the areo-med nurses wore brown bomber jackets-- or maybe I just imagined they did-- and when they left one nurse gave me a look, and I knew it was a look she reserved for the truly sick, people that she felt she could let her guard down around and show this look, because she wasn't sure the person was going to make it.
I remember that look. And thinking, "Screw you bitch. I'm not sick. I just need some extra sleep and painkillers.
**Please note that my emergency transportation that night was provided by Wings of Mercy West Michigan, Inc. Wings of Mercy is an non-profit organization of volunteer pilots, nurses and other medical professionals who serve their community by providing FREE emergency air transportation to patient with limited income. If you or someone you know could use this service, please visit http://www.wingsofmercy.org/ for more information. More importantly, you can sponsor this organization by visiting their web page.
I know the picture on the right hand side isn't the best-- my eyes are closed, and well it does look like I'm squatting, which I'm not, I may be open about my colitis, but only within legal limits. Like my Dad I carry a camera with me a lot. However, as you can see from his other work on this blog, D.W.B. is a true artist and captures the good, the bad and the ugly- mostly the ugly when I'm the topic.
Myself, I'm more commercial and prefer pretty things, or at least not bad looking poses. This was the best self portrait I managed on this trip, as a side note it is incredibly challenging to balance a camera on your bike helmet. Periodically I'll post photos that I take while I'm training. I stopped for these photos because the roses growing on the side of the trail were, well... pretty.
January 5, 2004--After my take down surgery I did a lot of pigheaded things. The first was taking a student teaching position. I wasn't even suppose to student teach until the following fall-- I still had one education class and two history classes for my minor left to take. But exceptions are made everyday, and this was huge exception that had a lot of political force behind it with me as the head mast. While the placement was ideal for me-- working with at-risk youth-- and the condition one I flourished in-- my advising teacher said 'see you later' after week one-- in no way should I have been there. Between classes I was be in the bathroom vomiting. My students, most of who were recovering addicts, looked better than I did.
On top of that, a condition to my early placement was that I had to take my remaining education class, while I was student teaching. Oh yeah, I was also still finishing up one class from the fall semester-- I'd managed to finish 14 of my 18 credit load before I left for surgery, but I still had that pesky four credits left to finish up.
My second biggest mistake began the day I went into school really not feeling well--- I mean super not well. I went home before classes even began. I barely got myself home before the pain was throbbing through me so strongly it knocked me to my knees. I don't remember calling my best friend, or her 110 pound body pulling my 200 pound one to the car. I don't remember her screaming at the nurses to let her into my room. I don't remember seeing my three other friends, who were also in the waiting room, all of them asking to see me.
I do remember feeling like something had exploded inside of me. I remember the doctor telling me not to scream, I was upsetting people. I told him I'd stop screaming, if he'd stop poking me. I remember telling the ER over and over again that it wasn't my colitis-- I didn't have colitis anymore because I didn't have a colon.
I said over and over again to call my surgeon in Grand Rapids. Instead, they called their surgeon who told me that if he cut me open, he'd be remove more intestine. That's when panic overtook me-- Was my pouch failing? Was something leaking? Would I have to have a permanent colostomy bag? This is the point when the ER decided it was time for me to have more drugs.
Very few memories stick with me after that extra dose of feel good juice. My dad on the phone telling me they were going to fly me to Grand Rapids, even in a drug haze I could tell from his tone I was in trouble-- not medically speaking either. Seeing my parents at the end of the hallway as the aero-med team rolled me into Spectrum Health hospital.
And finally, the aero-med nurses staying with me until Spectrum's nurses took over. All the areo-med nurses wore brown bomber jackets-- or maybe I just imagined they did-- and when they left one nurse gave me a look, and I knew it was a look she reserved for the truly sick, people that she felt she could let her guard down around and show this look, because she wasn't sure the person was going to make it.
I remember that look. And thinking, "Screw you bitch. I'm not sick. I just need some extra sleep and painkillers.
**Please note that my emergency transportation that night was provided by Wings of Mercy West Michigan, Inc. Wings of Mercy is an non-profit organization of volunteer pilots, nurses and other medical professionals who serve their community by providing FREE emergency air transportation to patient with limited income. If you or someone you know could use this service, please visit http://www.wingsofmercy.org/ for more information. More importantly, you can sponsor this organization by visiting their web page.
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