Maybe it's the rain....

(Dad and I were treated to a Colts game in a cool way from my surgeon Dr P last weekend and had a great time... aside from the ending score that is)

Maybe it's the rain that is falling today, maybe it's the fact that everyone and their brother is talking about what is happening this weekend at the cross races all over the country, maybe it's the fact that every time I walk out into the newly crisp air I "feel" cross excitement going through my veins. I don't know... but it all has me a bit down.

I've been bound and determined to make it back to elite level racing this year, even if it took me until December to do it. But this past week I think I finally am realizing that somethings can't change no matter how much will power you put into it. Nothing can change the fact of what I went through, that's okay, but for some crazy reason I had my blinders on when all the experts in medicine told me all this would take a long time to recover from. A long time? Like a few months right? I said that to the neurologist recently and she responded to me like I was a 1st grader. I can't blame her really. I mean, I am in the medical field and it seems to be pretty obvious when you break it all down what sort of massive healing process my body needs to do. When she said "a year to feel pretty normal," I'm not sure why I felt I could or should prove her wrong. It's not a contest. And it seems like I'm the only idiot that expects myself to feel "normal" at this point or expecting it to be back to normal very soon.

Whatever. So what if my lungs still are exchanging gases inappropriately from lingering inflammation, so what if my muscles and neuromuscular junction are functioning at 50% capacity for the next 6 months or longer, so what if I still have a lingering fever and my body is trying to recover all the little red blood cells that were taken from me for about a hundred blood draws. So what?

So it's not the easiest reality to take for someone who has always been active and independent. I had some very tough, life changing days when I was in the ICU... but I had something to do... try to stay alive. Now, my only choice is to sit around and wait to get better. It doesn't seem like I do anything. Which I know is the best thing, but very different than what I'm accustomed to doing, and very much not what I want to be doing! It frustrates me to no end, but when my muscles and energy levels drop, it stops me dead in my tracks and I have no other choice but to put my head down and rest. If the gas (acetylcholine) isn't there to run the engine, the engine just doesn't go no matter how ready it is.

Simple as that.

Some people look at me, see me as the engine that looks just fine, but what they don't know is that I don't have any energy to make myself go... no gas. It's a little strange to feel like I need to explain that to some people when I know I appear just fine. It's also been a very intriguing observation how people I have known for years that work in health care have reacted to me since I've returned to work. Most have been great and very supportive, but others treat me as if I have some sort of black plague and I find they treat complete strangers with more understanding and compassion. Just an interesting social aspect I've noticed along with all the other stuff. If I had the energy right now, I would do some sort of study on it.

I'm also learning I don't need to make excuses for myself, it's a discovered fact and there is nothing I can do about it until I've had proper time to heal. That's just how it has to be and I've started to see and realize the fact that this is a long haul ahead of me. I am learning that ANY day of activity, being it be a small half day trip somewhere, a few hours at work, or a easy 1 hour bike ride; will require 2 fold that in rest and sleep. I've learned that I can't make plans or get delusions of grandeur the day after I have a task to complete. It's just different now.

I think about how much my life has changed in a year. I know change happens in life and I actually enjoy change. Like I stated in previous blogs about the near death experience (NDE) I am not angry it happened and I don't ever think it is my place to say I would go back and erase it from my life, but I'm in a very different place than I was last year. Physically and socially (not to even touch on mentally), I was taking on the cross season, traveling to races, and working a full time job, and maintaining my home life on top of it all. I was a busy, busy girl. I look back now and it helps me put how ill I've been in perspective since last year I would work 8 -24 hour shift, get off work and ride 2-3 hours, be able to prep dinner and get ready to do it all the next day. Now, a few hours of doing anesthesia requires 24 hours rest, forget riding a bike or even doing grocery shopping or what not. Looking at things that way helps me understand that this isn't going to just go away in a couple weeks, and that maybe one of the top neuromuscular neurologist in the region isn't crazy after all.

Maybe it is the rain....

but maybe it's the truth.

And yes, I can handle the truth.

(I recently was given a high honor as a Distinguished Alumni from my high school Tippecanoe Valley. Final ceremonies were held at the half time of the football game; as seen above standing with Jason Bowmen, MD who was also a 1995 grad and a honored alum)

The Tippecanoe Valley High School Distinguished Alumni Class of 2011 were honored Friday. PIctured seated (L to R) are: Rebekah Parker Legan, Jayme McCalla Parker, Nicole Dorem, Sherri Miller Johnson. Pictured in the second row are: Vernon Goodman, Kevin Deardorff, Dean Trippiedi and Jerry Meadows. In the third row are Greg Hoover, Todd Stokes, Dr. Jason Bowman and Micah Lukens. Photo by Marissa McSherry, Times-Union

It was a cool experience going back to high school as a career women. I had a chance to speak to students and see some of the teachers and staff that helped mentor me to the place I am today. The honored alums that TVHS had were quite impressive and have made great contributions to this world and I was honored to be placed in that same category.

I was just a little rug rat from the small town of Burket... just like all the other's above were from small towns and went to a small school.

My advice to the students?

Just because you come from small places doesn't mean that you can't do BIG things!

And that's the truth.

Go Vikes!

Isn't That The Truth!

Isn't kinda cool how sometimes God aligns everything just right sometimes and something happens or is said that you absolutely needed to happen at just that right moment?

We've all had it happen and even if you want to credit God for it or not, well that's your thing... but I know God does it all the time for us. Heaven knows I've had a few things here lately occur that if He didn't interject could have easily gone south.

So my neighborhood I live in is called SpringHill acres. It's named that way because it is on a lake and it is down a hill. It's not Colorado, but it's a fairly steep incline that goes out of my neighborhood and also one that heads back down to the hospital I work at. Nothing major... but I can always gauge right off how I feel that day on a training ride based on how I tackle that hill. Before I was sick, I could ride up both hills like they were flat. I love when that happens. I was getting really fit.

After I finally got up the strength to cruise around the hood on the granny bike, my goal was to someday be able to make it up that hill. It took me a couple weeks to make it. The first couple times required a few breaks, but eventually I made it up clean! I was stoked. Such a little hill that I used to laugh at became a major struggle for me, but I made it and I didn't care what anybody else thought of me making it or needing to take break. To me it was a major hurdle and that hill felt like a prison wall holding me away from longer cruises until I could overcome it. And that I did!

(A little bigger incline at Cottenwood pass)

So once I made it up the hill and down the back side of it, my next goal was to make it back home up the other side. This is actually on a road that goes to the hospital campus, so it sees a fair amount of traffic therefor some of it has a sidewalk. Now, let me tell you this. It's been a long time since I've used a sidewalk with a bike under me, but these days I feel so much slower than traffic, I take that sidewalk all the time. Weird. This little hill maybe takes me 30 seconds normally, but given that I have already climbed another hill, I spent a few weeks needing to take a break at least 2 or 3 times. It was huge... it might as well been the Alps for all I know.

So lately, I have been able to make it up that hill all at once at snail's pace. I'm proud to make the hill, but some days I forget that I almost died 3 months ago and I start getting upset with how slow I go up that little hill. I don't get upset everyday, but the thought of frustration crosses my mind sometimes.

Which just so happened today. I'm on the sidewalk, minding my own "feeling sorry for myself being so slow" business when a familiar car rolls up beside me. I'm thinking "man I hope this isn't someone wanting to converse because I can't even breath right now." Then a dude I've known since the BMX days shouts out to me...

"It doesn't get any easier, you just get faster."

I thank him and Him and we both continue on our paths.

Isn't that the truth!

A couple months from now when Coach Mark has me training my tail off, this won't seem any bit harder then what it does now. I'm just going a little slower for the time being.

The thing is: getting up those damn hills isn't about how pro I look getting up them, how fast I used to be able to do it, or how fast everyone else can. It's about me believing I can go up it. It's about me going for a bike ride because I like to, it's about me trusting in God's decision that this is exactly where He wants me to be right now and giving me a chance to make it up even more hills and obstacles in the future.

My friend is right... it doesn't matter how slow, fast, or good I get. I'll always find a way to push the limit further because that's how I roll.

That's what I did and that's what I'm doing!

It's a Steady Climb Now!

(Made up this mountain in Beaver Creek, CO... and a few other mental ones along the way!)

Lately, I've been climbing all sorts of mountains. The biggest mountain I'm working on making it to the top of is my recovery bell curve. The smaller mountain was Cottonwood pass in Colorado last week at around a quantity of 12,50o ft at the peak. I find it very interesting that some of the biggest measurable obstacles seem so much more less significant to the spiritual, medical, and emotional obstacles I've faced lately. But on all fronts, I see everyday that I am heading out of the black hole I was in... even though some days I have to take a few steps down, that's no problem with me.

I continue to make leaps and bounds in my recovery. After being told that most people don't even walk with the critical illness myopathy for 3 months; I actually rode my bike in Colorado at that mark! Granted, it wasn't my average pace and to most, I looked like a recreational, occasional cyclist... but I could have cared less. I was riding my bike people! 3 months ago I couldn't even breathe!

(Me and Suzan went for a easy trail spin at Buena Vista, the views were amazing)

Let me back up, so I still have been battling the fatigue and shortness of breath from letting the lungs heal up, but my good friend Anne decided she wanted to do a last minute trip to CO for the US Pro Challenge and take her 2 youngest gals with her. Being that I didn't have any type of work schedule to follow, I really wanted to go since my days around the house were starting to make me feel like I was in an infirmary prison. But given that I just had a major pulmonary event and CO is a bit higher then IN, I needed to make sure all my doctors would feel it was safe to go. Long story short, I discussed the trip at length with all the wizards, and with precaution, I was given the go ahead a few days before we were set to head out! Splendid!

So off we went, we had a nice trip and arrived at Buena Vista to watch the start of stage 1 in Salida. It was fun to watch the gals see a pro event up close for the first time, but even cooler to see young gals be big fans of cycling. It was a busy day and we tried to pack everything we could into the time we had, so I was pretty much exhausted from the start of the trip. I thought for a while that I was having a hard time sleeping as a result of the strange bed, but the more I think about it the more I think it was because of the high altitude. So I guess I won't be getting a altitude tent to sleep in anytime soon.

(My travel mates: Anne, Suzan, and Bethany Young)

(Suzan and Bethany didn't know this guy at first: posing with Bobke)

(Yeahhh... mtb trails!)

The next day we wanted to be at the summit of cottonwood pass that was just a short ways away from where we were staying. All of us gals took off at the base of the mountain early in the morning to allow plenty of time before the racers came by. I was going very slow but I made it to the top along with Bethany (17) while Anne and Suzan felt the effects of the thin air and had to take a slower trip up by foot. During my slow ascent myself I was feeling that familiar "burn" in the lungs from exercise, and despite the fact that this had ever been the highest to the sky my body had ever been and that I had been off a bike for 2.5 months and I was now climbing a mountain, it didn't even come close to the difficulty of breathing or the pain I had when I was in the hospital. NOT EVEN CLOSE. I think I'll hang on to that thought for a while. What I went through puts pain and discomfort in a whole new light.

(Took me a long time, but made it to the top of Cottonwood between the Colliegate Peaks)

Bethany and I had a blast and it truly felt like we were on the top of a climb in the TDF. I met tons of people and it was a cool party atmosphere while we all waited for the 5 minute time frame that the riders would pass us. After a strong storm dumped a nice chill on us (we were freezing above tree line), we (or more like I) screamed like teenage girls when the riders passed by! Very cool.... but not as cool as racing myself. Made me miss it a lot.

(Some firepower at the Avon stage start: Andy S., TVG., and Levi)

The following days we spend in the Vail/ Avon area. We watched to TT and the start of the Avon stage. I was able to spend some time at the D2 shoe factory and meet legend Don Lamson who makes the best cycling shoes you could ever imagine putting on your feet. I fell in love with Eagle, CO and am seriously thinking of moving there. Time will tell and I think a winter visit would give me a idea of it better. Having never been to CO before, it was a place I really felt like I belonged. It really is an area built around the outdoors and that's what I live for! Something for me to seriously think about....

(I spent my share of time in the hot tub looking at the mountains)

In other news, I was really pleased with how the ankle held up, and despite some major swelling and surgical discomfort, the terrible nerve pain remained absent. Dr Porter said it would be a couple more months before that subsided, but compared to the misery I was in before, I'm not complaining at all.

Otherwise, I was so happy to be back to work part time this week. I had my first day Monday and that happiness quickly faded as it didn't go as well as I hoped it would. Even though I felt very safe to take care of people, it took every bit of energy I had to make it through a short day. I worked a few hours, needed a 4 hour nap, then topped it off with a 12 hr night's sleep. I'm praying this was more related to my lack of sleep and body clock being on mountain time and will find out soon enough in the morning. I know each day isn't going to sail along as smoothly as I would hope for, so I just have to keep in mind how far I have come and know that I can and will make it to the peak someday with this illness. Some days I look back and shake my head and am amazed at just how far I have come from where I was in the days I spent in the hospital where it took too much energy to even be able to simply say a few words at a time. God really has given us amazing shells that can recover and regenerate from extremely tough circumstances!

So I just keep climbing the mountains one step at a time and eventually the glory of the view will take my breathe away (in a good way)!

(Sunset near Buena Vista Trailhead: a picture could never do it justice, but it's still nice to look at.)

Coming Out of Africa

(Getting outside a little more to enjoy the summer life around me)

Soooo lots has happened since the last blog and I now officially think I can say I am getting more comfortable in my zebra stripes walking around in America with the rest of the horses. First of all let me just say that I have seemed to break the status quo of how my body "should have" acted with any of this experience. I think every doctor and specialist has told me that I'm a zebra in some way and my fitness (or fitness I used to have) has hindered my diagnosis or future expectations of how I will recover. This has both been a blessing and a curse at times. It has both saved my life and has made things difficult to discover and predict for the doctors... we aren't really used to treating active people these days and normal parameters for some people aren't normal for athletes. Regardless, I am acting true to form for a zebra in a field full of horses and while I may act and perform different from those around me, I'm just doing what I feel everyone else would do, just trying to live and survive!

(This was a sign they had up at IUMC: That's darn right!!!!

NEVER GIVE UP)

So the biggest news is that it appears that I do not have myasthenia gravis!!!! This is such a huge relief to me that it isn't a joy I will even attempt to justify with words. MG would have been a long term disease, and by all accounts of the specialist, it would have been very unlikely that I would have been able to continue to ride a bike, let alone race one. It has been many appointments and lots of testing to get things pinned down better, but one of the top neurologist in this area is about 90% sure that I have "critical illness induced polyneuropathy and myopathy." That's a mouthful! I spent a nice long appointment have needles stuck in my arm and forehead down at IU Medical Center a little over a week ago and as a time trial in a bike race shows the truth... so does a EMG for the most part. So here's the basic description of what's going on:

Critical illness polyneuropathy (CIP) and critical illness myopathy (CIM) are overlapping syndromes of widespread muscle weakness and neurological dysfunction that can develop in critically ill patients receiving intensive care. CIP and CIM have similar symptoms and presentations and are often distinguished largely on the basis of specialized electrophysiologic testing or muscle and nerve biopsy. The causes of CIP and CIM are unknown, though they are thought to be a possible neurological manifestation of systemic inflammatory response syndrome. Corticosteroids, which are widely used in intensive care, may contribute to the development of CIP and CIM, as may elevations in blood sugar, which frequently occur in critically ill patients.

So basically, I still have a long recovery, I'm told that my neuromuscular function (NM) will start healing in about 6 months and that I should feel pretty normal in a year, but the complete recovery as shown by EMG takes about 5 years... but they don't have any tests that demonstrate how an athlete would recover from this, and I hope to be above those estimates, but I have to not expect to and be realistic about it and if I beat the estimates it will just be icing on the cake!

It is still a serious recovery, as the name implies, and I still have many days of testing and resting to make sure everything goes okay, but at least I am starting to feel a little more like myself as each day goes by. It's weird to look back at the last 3 months and realize just how bad I have felt and also how little I remember, just feels like I have been suspended in the twilight zone and am finally starting to float back into the earth's atmosphere. I have been asked to describe how I have felt and I tell people to try and imagine having the worse cold or flu you've ever had... and take that times ten. That kinda sums it up I guess, but the cool thing is that during the worse days I've had at home God has this magical way of kinda shutting down your brain and helping you block out all those memories somewhat.

In other news, I was able to take some sort shifts back at work and was able to do 2 small cases. It will be a long time before I can throw down a full day or a full time schedule, but it was good to get back into the environment and be back in a hospital again around the sights and sounds that I went through... just in a reverse role. The ironic thing about my first case back to work? The patient I took care of was in the exact same ICU room I was in. Guess that is kind of going back the scene of an accident you were in... taking a deep breath, saying a prayer, and stepping over the hurdle. I was happy to make it over that hurdle and was also thankful to have God be beside me to take it so I didn't have to alone.

So, I'll slowly get back to work next month as a part time worker. I look forward to the days to do anesthesia for others, but also know that I will need lots of rest to recover from those days. It's a huge transition to get back "out there," but I'm pretty thankful to be doing so since I was very aware at one point that I may never be able to help people again.

I slowly am getting out and being more active, which has been so nice! I try to take some cruises around on the granny or cross bike in town and it's been kinda nice to have to slow down a little. Just enjoy what's around me instead of being in such a hurry to get from point A to point B. I'm still unsure of what my future holds this year as far as cycling goes, but I'll just take it as it comes, and run with the horses when the time comes.

(Getting out on a little spin with Anne. Baby pedals back! Felt so good!)

Once again, I have to give so much thanks to everyone that has helped me or sent a nice word of encouragement my way. It means so much to me and it's been an interesting experience to see so much love and see so many helpful people here in this world. It really has been, as they say, an eye opener to who is willing to be there when the chips are down. I've learned who my true friends and family are in the tough times and I've been very surprised by the results in both ways in some instances. Funny how that works. I have to admit, it's been a bit of an emotional challenge to handle the disappointment of some I really felt were "close," but it's always good to learn these things the hard way. I am forever grateful to those who have been there for me when I needed it more than ever! You all know who you are and I want you all to know I wouldn't have made it through this without you guys and gals!

So I'm still making my slow trip out of Africa as the zebra that I am. I know it's a long journey and I don't quite understand it all, but I know there will be a brighter future on the horizon soon!

Thanks for reading and following along everyone... I look forward to the day I have some racing to report on instead!

Waiting to See the Wizard

"No one sees the Great Oz. Not no one. Not no how."

I think we all know what that comes from... The Wizard of Oz of course.

Well, at this point I feel like I'm waiting to see the wizard. I've always had this standing joke on the practitioner side of my life that us health care workers are seen as wizards by the patients. I don't have any religious backing to it, it just refers to the Wizard of Oz. You see, it seems everyday that it gets harder and harder to get into see a health care person in this day and age for an appointment. After all, who gets into high end health care anymore? It's a hard job (highly rewarding) and trust me, the pay doesn't add up to the risks that could be found in other 9-5 jobs in this country. Back to the point. So whenever a page or appointment is finally granted to see "the wizard" it is anxiously awaited by the person to see this magical being that will hold hope and answers to the future. And while that may be true in some aspects, really some may find "the wizard" to be a bit of a let down... just a normal guy standing behind a curtain. Just like in the movie. Don't get me wrong, I'm one of those wizards and I take it very seriously knowing that what I do has a great impact on a person's life, but the fact is, aside from my education and training, I'm just a normal person like everyone else. Now that I'm in the reverse role, I see how it feels to wait for "the wizard." But really, I joke about saying this and I know my real wizard sits on a throne and can't be seen here on earth... He's the One's answers I really await to hear. So it's just a joke, just an analogy like The Wizard of Oz is filled with, but I'm waiting to see the wizard at this point.

Right now all I can really do is wait to see the wizard. After having some more nerve conduction tests last week with the neurologist at Lutheran, in which I was faced with more needles and electrical currents being sent through my body, things came back strongly positive for some neuromuscular problem... probable myasthenia. As a result, the specialist here is now sending me to a top specialist in the country. I was thankful my neuro here had some pretty close friends that have elevated to the top of the MG field, and after some personal phone calls were made and my case was discussed, I am on a fast track to see a doctor at IU Medical Center on the 12th to have some more nerve testing done and discuss my problems further. It seems like forever to wait this long to get some more answers since I am so anxious to get back to normal life and get back to work, but I am getting a true lesson in being patient through this and now understanding that sorting out this disease is not going to be a quick fix like a broken bone or a surgery waiting to heal. So I have no other choice but to wait and be patient.

Day by day I know I'm getting stronger. I am now going for short walks in my neighborhood, able to manage my house, and getting out in the real world in small ways. At times, I believe I am able to return to work... then I realize that it's not possible since a walk around the grocery store is exhausting... but I'm getting closer everyday. At best, the neurologist is shooting for me to return to work in Sept. At best.

Since I started this blog many moons ago to keep everyone up to date on my cycling adventures, let me touch on my cycling thoughts with all this.

I know a lot of people have the thought in their mind that my cycling career is pretty much done given the fact that I'm dealing with a problem that not only has been affecting my lungs, but more seriously the neuromuscular system. Two pretty import things vital to cycling! Honestly, I would be lying if I told you that thought didn't cross my mind a couple times, but I'm determined to be back on the bike someday. I've been asked a lot about when I may be able to get back to riding again. Well, the answer is that I have no idea and it's not really the main concern right now. Yes, I miss it dearly, but right now, I have something bigger than the bike to deal with. The bike will always be there. Always.

Right now, I'm still facing recovering from a serious illness that about took my life, and now also trying to fight a long term disease that could effect me the rest of my life, along with still recovering from ankle surgery. I don't know when I'll ride again, race again, or what will happen when I do... but I WILL. Right now I'm waiting to see the wizard, but don't think for a second that I'm not believing and dreaming that I can do it. I'm on the Yellow Brick Road, and in the end my dream will come true... however I dream it to be.

Once again I am overwhelmed by all the love I've had through all this. I've really learned that there are so many good people out in the world. I have been so blessed by the love of several people in the OB Dept at KCH (among others) that have helped in so many ways, I'm so thankful for them along with my good friend Anne especially. This has brought on so much more than just physical problems; the emotions and issues of such a serious event have really tested me in many way and having so many people help, aside from my family, has solidified my faith in the world in general and has been a rainbow in all of this!

Thank you all so much and God Bless.

"A place where there isn't any trouble. Do you suppose there is such a place, Toto? There must be. It's not a place you can get to by a boat or a train. It's far, far away. Behind the moon, beyond the rain."

My Biggest Test. Vulnerability.

I’ve had my fair share of “tests” in life. With 9 yrs. of college and being a “go-to” athlete of some sort since about 3rd grade, I’ve not only had thousands of school test, physical test, but mental tests as well. I make my living in a job everyday where my test and split second decisions could or could not send another human being to their grave. I love being tested! As a matter of fact, I thrive on the pressure. If the game came down to the last second and a 3 point shot was needed to win, I wanted to take the shot. Sure, I’ve missed that game winning shot before and the heartache was unbearable, but I’ve also made that shot and the feeling is unmatched. A couple years ago I needed to win 3 straight late season ovcx races to meet my goal of winning the overall elite series and I think I was maybe the only person who believed I could win all 3 after being beat consistently by my main competitor earlier in the year... but I focused on each race one at a time and ended up winning each one with ease. Leading me to win the overall title!

I’ve had much bigger tests; ones that involve assuring I made the right choice to manage my pt’s life safe and sound, but I think that pressure is why I love my job so much. I always felt that of all my tests in life I was in some sort of control. I manage my fate and I thrive on the control. Anybody that knows the field of anesthesia knows we are very type A people and knowing you have a big control over a patient matches right up with that. We don’t ever think we are playing God, but we definitely have a temporary management of people’s lives. So I would say I have that type A personality as do many other cyclist as well.

So there I was, in the ICU. Not as the person that was called in to help manage a patient. I WAS the patient. I was poked, prodded, exposed, and had to give my whole life’s history, and mostly to people I have known for several years. I was given my test results by my medical staff and since I was so sick and hypoxic, I really had no understanding of what was being told to me even tough it was information I knew inside and out. I felt confused and a bit helpless not understanding. I was completely at the mercy of others. I was 100% vulnerable. Not a place I am often.

But my test wasn’t in the vularablity of myself to others around me.

It was my vulnerability to God.

This was a major test in my faith.

Major.

I had to accept that I could die. So I did. That was a test. I had to accept that wether I were to live or die was His decision. I did. I had to accept that it was also His choice of where I would go if I did die. I did. I’m a sinner and I believe and have given myself to the Lord. I admitted that I would die and it was okay. Big test question answered.

His decision:

I got to live.

I’ve always had faith, but I always questioned God’s choices here and there. But this time, I gave my life over to Him without any questions and I was very calm about whatever his decision might be. I was vulnerable to the BIGGEST person I could ever face, with the biggest repercussions ... and I was calm. He made me calm. It was the best feeling I have ever had. I knew He would make the best choice for whatever my Christian purpose would be. To face death directly, feel physically horrible, be vulnerable, and have an overwhelming calmness was bigger than any other test I will ever face. I know I can always look to God to help me through anything else in the future.

So I’m not a Bible beater by any means, but I really hope you all have some faith of some sort. It's really hard to go through so many challenges and make the right choices everyday, have tough things happen, and not question the love of God for you, but He does love us. Look at His son Jesus. I thought it was tough for my parents to watch my illness... but God and Jesus! I couldn’t imagine what it would have been like to go through that without my faith. God is for real people and I’m living proof of that!

I am now at my home and able to take care of myself (mostly). I have only been able to get out a few times since it is just too exhausting for me. My lungs are doing better, but I still get short of breath with simple activities or talking too much. Some days are “good” some days are bad. Some days I feel like I got hit by a truck and others I feel pretty okay to sit around and watch the Tour and drink coffee and dream of racing cyclocross. My ankle is also doing much better. It is healing nicely and I no longer am tormented with the terrible nerve pain I had before surgery. I'm so thankful for that! I have started some light therapy to get it back to being stronger and taking it day by day with it also. I am still awaiting the final results of the myasthenia gravis antibody testing and won’t find out more until the 26th. The magnitude of what I’ve been through and what I may be dealing with in the future is starting to set in with me now that I can think a little straighter. I am just taking life day by day and trusting that this will all work out somehow. I am not able to work (not even close) and will not even get to discuss when I can go back until the end of the month., which adds a whole other stress. This all leaves me in a very dependent position. Not something I’m at all used to. I remain vulnerable to others. People to go to the store, mow my yard, take out my trash, stuff that I would have done with ease; and I’m slowly accepting that better. I'm so used to be being the giver that it's made me a stronger person to allow so many good people to help me. I’m so thankful to everyone that has taken on so much for me or even just a little. It's amazing how just a little note or text from others really can lift me up from time to time. From a note, card, dinner, or yard work I'm so thankful for those things and I thank God for you everyday. Your all my little earthly angels.

Plus, I am now realizing that my cx season will be a miracle to even show up to the line this year. I’ve been through a lot and still have a mountain to climb.

That’s okay. I do believe in miracles, and I do love challenges!

And the view from atop that mountain will be priceless!

Time to start climbing back up to check out the view!

(Looking forward and staying positive for a chance to race cross again!)

In The Blink Of An Eye!

(Tarsal Tunnel release went great, we have the problem all fixed, and it is healing nicely!)

There a couple things in healthcare that patients say to you that can really weigh heavy on your heart, as they should. One of these statements is "please don't let me die." I've been told that many, many times and I do my best every moment I work to not let that happen to the best of my control (I know I don't have the ultimate control, you know what I mean?). Anyway, some people say that jokingly, some are dead serious (no pun intended), and they have good reason to be. It isn't something you lightly say to someone; so I was shocked when those words came out of my mouth to my ICU nurse Jill a couple weeks ago. I was dead serious, and I had good reason to be. I had a pulmonary embolus.

So I had a "near death experience." I kinda hate saying that, but I guess that's what it was. I more like to say "I had a serious insult to my body that forced me to fight like hell to stay alive"... but that takes a lot more words. As you all know I had surgery on 6/14 on my tarsal tunnel, and less than 48 hrs later I developed a lot of trouble breathing, and pain in my right lung.

Honestly, I went back and forth on even posting a blog about it; since it was an incredibly emotional and life changing event. But here's the deal: God kept me here for a reason and I hope maybe my story can maybe help others find some faith in their everyday life... so a blog it is. I was going to write it with a joking tone... but it wasn't funny. So I'll just tell some of it like it was, but a lot of it is a little too personal and emotion to share right now; but mostly please take this away from this: your life can change in the blink of an eye! Maybe for good or worse, or maybe just change, but don't take the little things that God has given us for granted. Bike racing is a fun "battle," but how you conduct yourself and treat others is the battle that matters most, because someday you may need that karma for a real battle; one for you life. I did.

I woke on the 16th barely able to catch my breath, breathing about 40 times a minute. Not good. I got a hold of Dr Porter (who did another awesome foot surgery btw), he had me call my internist Dr Coates (who is awesome in general btw), I planned to go get a chest x-ray, maybe a breathing treatment (I have asthma) and be back home in a couple hours. Well, I'm still not home (I am staying with my parents and their cats) and I ended up staying in the hospital 10 days. Five days in the ICU at kch, and 3 in the msicu at Lutheran where I used to work, and 5 on teley. Honestly, I knew I was having a pulmonary embolism as a complication from lower extremity surgery, I just didn't want to admit it to myself. Maybe because I knew that was serious, a lot of people don't live through it... I didn't plan for a PE! Long story short, I felt bad to worse, and my 2nd night at kch had me feeling like as I was drowning as my body was barely getting any oxygen to it. For you abg number junkies (like me) my paO2 was about 30. I remember thinking "I have a PE, I really could die from this." I didn't see that as a good option, I won't say I was scared, but I knew things were really bad and I had to step it up and try to keep it going to see the next day. Kinda makes a last interval set seems like a cake walk. We did more tests, things didn't look good and I was shipped to Lutheran by ambulance. Man those guys go fast! I hated to leave Dr Coates and all the staff at kch- they did so awesome, but I was happy to go to a unit where I would have some familiar faces to help me further.

The remaining days were a bit of a blur. I was medicated and constantly monitored, woke up for tests, blood draws, IV's, breathing treatments, and shots, and more shots. I was going to keep track of how many times I was poked by a needle, but I lost count at 31 on day 5. We discovered a urethral stricture that I've probably had for at least 6 months after they put a Foley catheter in me. I lost 10 pounds of water weight in a a matter of 5 days, and eventually has surgery to fix the problem. I had some great nurses and doctors take care of me and I would hope someday that society would realize that these people are far better role models than the athletes in our world. Just sayin. I also developed severe weakness, like not even being able to hold my head up. I eventually had a neurologist consult, Dr Steven's, who happens to be a L500 champion from back in the 70's, come and test me for myasthenia gravis (an autoimmune neuromuscular disorder). It looks very likely that all the physiological stress of things may have unmasked this. I find out more from some blood work Friday. If I do have it, don't count me out... I plan on fighting through it to be a competitor again soon.

(My parent's new kitties: still slacking on their physical therapy duties: but oh so good for the soul)

So for now, I'm happy to be out of the hospital. Everyday I have little goals, like standing the entire time to brush my teeth, or sitting outside for 10 minutes. Most simple things require a couple hour recharge nap, but that just has to be they way it is. I know someday soon, I'll be riding down a country road I've rode a thousand times, feeling the wind in my face, and the sun on my neck feeling the LIFE of the outside world that God has created for us to love and enjoy... things that are absent in the hospital bed. Yes, I had a "near death experience, " but it was so much more. I'm not angry, I don't feel sorry for myself, and I don't think it was a bad thing that happened to me. I felt the grace of the hand of God; and that makes me feel pretty special, not everyone experiences that.

(... and they make really good nap buddies)

I can't even being to thank everyone around me who has showed me support and love with thoughts and prayers. I mean WOW, how to even begin, I have so many people I know who are such caring and great people... I love you all. Even a little word means SO much. Thank you.

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. ~Timothy 4:7

I know you seen me quote this verse before; it's my personal favorite, by no mistake I believe.