2/5/19. The post where I invite you to my new blog site.

2/5/19:  I know, I haven’t posted here in a long time.  And it is time for me to move on to another platform. My new blog will focus on more than just health issues and I am really proud (a little too proud, actually) of the clever name. But never fear, I will still share my periodic health struggles in excruciating detail.  Thanks for hanging with me all these years, and I hope you will join me at Wait Just a Prosecco.

2/25/18. The post where I walk with a bunch of badasses.

2/25/18: yesterday was the second year in a row I walked a charity 5K for colon cancer awareness.  A lot of things have changed since last year.  (In case you need a refresher, here is my post from last year’s race.) While last year’s race was the first one in which I had participated since my RSD diagnosis, this time I had multiple races under my belt, including two half-marathons.  In fact, these days I generally walk 5-7 miles on any given Saturday, so a 5K felt a little like cheating.

The weather was also very different. While last year was bitterly cold, the race time temperature yesterday was a balmy 70 degrees.  And while the forecast called for a 70% chance of rain, the weather held during the entire race.  In fact, it was the first event I’ve done in several months where I didn’t get soaked.  (Thanks Mom! I feel certain she pulled some strings yesterday.)

Some things didn’t change, though. I listened to the fight song playlist on the way to the race.  Maybe that wasn’t a good idea, but every now and then I need to hear it and remember.  (And in a completely unrelated note, I cried through the start of the race.)  Other than a few pleasantries, I didn’t talk to anyone while I was there, and I walked alone.  But this time instead of silence during the walk, I listened to an upbeat workout playlist I’ve been working on, and that was a good idea.  It kept me focused and I had my best average time for a race since I’ve started walking competitively again.

In fact, not only was I the first walker to finish, I actually passed multiple people in the running group that started before the walkers. Not because I am a badass. Trust me, my half-marathon results will confirm that I am not going to win any speed awards anytime soon. But yesterday’s event was different. With a few exceptions, the participants weren’t regular runners, or even regular walkers. Many of them had probably never walked three miles at a time before and some of them were really struggling.   But they were there to celebrate, honor, or remember a loved one who had fought colon cancer, and that was enough to keep them going.  So everyone who participated yesterday was a badass, in my opinion.

This year I was able to forego the post-race beer because they were also offering hard ciders - my favorite!  Hey, I have learned in the past year that I can drink a beer when absolutely necessary (2017 New Year’s resolution - check), so I am off the hook.  And then I went home and ate guacamole and queso for lunch, because that’s what Mom would have wanted me to do.  (Yes, I know, that sounds like an excuse, but ask my family - they will totally back me up on this.) My family and friends really came through, as did all the participants’ families and friends, and we raised a lot of money for colon cancer research.

My foot protested mightily yesterday afternoon and evening.  It couldn’t have been the distance, so I have chalked it up to the humidity and emotion. I am planning to do another half-marathon next week, and while it is more than four times as long as yesterday’s walk, mentally it will seem like a walk in the park.  A long, slow walk through a really big park. Behind a bunch of “real” athletes. But they won’t match the badasses I walked with yesterday.

1/22/18. The post where I earn my bumper sticker.

1/22/18: it’s been almost a year since my last post. Wow - so many things have changed.  My patient, long-suffering husband transitioned into a new career as a business owner. We moved into a (significantly smaller) downtown loft.  My niece began graduate school and moved in with us.  And I have become a half-marathoner.

It happened as many of my best/worst decisions do, over a glass of wine (or two) with family.  My sister-by-love mentioned that she’d love to walk a half-marathon (13.1 miles for the metrically challenged).  A quick google search later, four of us were signed up for a big one out of town. We made the decision in late summer and the race was in early December, so we had plenty of time to train, right?

Fast forward to late November and suddenly I realize the race is less than two weeks away. The farthest I have walked since we signed up is five miles and it is way too late to start training in earnest. But now that we are living downtown, my walking has gotten a lot more consistent and I am feeling cocky.  So I decide it is going to be a “no rehearsal” race.  I keep up with my usual walking and disregard all expert advice about training for long distance races. And guess what? I manage to finish. All four of us finish, so we decide to do another one in January.  This time we will train properly.

Flash forward to last week.  While the race day forecast is unseasonably warm, the week before it is filled with ice storms and sub-freezing temperatures. Predictably, my foot reacts poorly and I can barely stand on it, even with HAL dialed up to 11. With each day, the odds of me making the race decrease drastically.  My patient, long-suffering husband reminds me that I can’t control everything and there will be other races.  But some friends also remind me that I usually manage to find a way.  So I don’t give up.

And sure enough, two days before the race, the weather improves. And so does my foot. By race morning, I am feeling confident. Or blindly optimistic. Or delusional. In any event, I decide to go for it. And not only do I finish, but I beat my previous time by 20 minutes.  And my sister-by-love beats her time, too. And my niece and cousin, who are actually runners, finish handily.  Apparently this is now something we do.  We have already signed up for another race in March.

Today I am sore in places I didn’t even know existed. And my foot is not especially happy about my life choices.  But I am feeling pretty good.  On January 7, 2014, I was diagnosed with RSD. https://valeriersd.blogspot.com/2014/01/the-post-where-i-catch-everyone-up.html  I was introduced to terms like “incurable”, “remission”, “coping strategies”, and “medical disability retirement.”  But after four years, months of physical therapy, multiple nerve blocks, several unsuccessful prescriptions, and a spinal cord stimulator, I just finished my second half marathon. And I think I have earned my bumper sticker.

2/28/17. The post where I kill two birds with one stone.

2/28/17: Saturday was my 5K benefiting colon cancer screening.  I started training several weeks ago and I knew I could do three miles with no ill effects.  At least in the balmy, non-winter weather we've had recently.  And then the night before the walk, a cold front blew in.  Crap.  As you know from my previous posts, cold weather and RSD are mortal enemies. For a brief moment, I considered blowing it off.  But the donations were piling in and the mission of the walk was very dear to my heart, so I set HAL to "stun" as a precautionary measure and got out my warmest workout clothes.

Saturday was a day of firsts.  The first race since I was diagnosed.  The first time since Mom's passing that I listened to the "fight" playlist I made for her while she was going through radiation. Yeah, that went about as well as you would imagine.  (In case you need a refresher on why I made the playlist.). One other weird first - the first time I went out in public without talking to a single person for several hours.  Most of you know me well enough to know that I am an off-the-chart extrovert who will strike up a conversation with anyone.  But Saturday was just for me.  When I walk for exercise, I don't listen to music or walk with a partner.  I use the time for reflection and solving the world's problems. Truth be told, I have probably composed more than half of the posts for this blog in my head while walking.  (When it comes to walking, I'm a loner, Dottie, a rebel.)  And given the mission of the walk, I wasn't exactly in the mood to socialize.  So I walked in silence. And it was just what I needed.

And the final first? The first time I voluntarily drank a beer. Well, half a beer. While I love wine and cocktails, I never developed an affinity for beer. I guess I didn't learn to drink it in junior high, or whenever it is you are supposed to learn to drink beer, but my New Year's resolution this year was to learn to at least tolerate beer.  Yes, I know, most people resolve to lose weight, exercise more, or better themselves in some way.  But, as you have figured out by now, I am not most people. And there are times my inability to choke down a beer hampers my professional and/or social life.  At least, that's how I've justified it.

As I crossed the finish line, the first thing I saw was the tent for the local brewery giving out free beer to participants.  My first reaction was "Come on - it is 9:30 in the morning!"  My second reaction was "Too bad it isn't wine."  My third reaction was "Oh, why not?"  So I got my beer prize, sat on the grass, and gave it a go.  And it wasn't bad. It wasn't great, but it wasn't bad.  Operation New Year's Resolution is officially in gear.

It took about 24 hours to warm up after the walk, and I had a slight  flare up afterward, but all in all, I would say it was a success.  Any day you can tell both colon cancer and RSD to suck it is a good day.   One of the few chances I'll have to kill two birds with one stone.  I have another 5K this Saturday, but this one will be very different - it is sponsored by a winery and is just for fun.  I think I've earned it.

2/12/17. The post where I tell you about an interesting coincidence.

2/12/17: Yesterday, I told you about my plan to start training for 5Ks.  This morning, I woke up and checked Facebook.  The first post I saw was about a 5K taking place in a couple of weeks less than five miles from my home benefiting....wait for it...colon cancer awareness.  Wow, very subtle, Mom. I think she is in favor of my plan.

2/11/17. The post where I become a member of a club I never asked to join.

2/11/17.  Yes, I am aware it’s been a long time since I posted.  Usually that means I am either feeling great and too busy to post or feeling too bad to post.  In this case, though, I just haven't been up to it.  But it's time, so here goes…and be prepared, because it will be a long one.

You may remember a post from approximately three years ago (March 28, 2014 for the detail-obsessed) where I posted about a frantic journey to get to the hospital to see my mom.  At the end of October 2016, I made a similar journey.  But this time, the story did not have a happy ending.  Those of you who have read since the beginning know that throughout my blogs, I have posted about Mom teaching me how to fight.  The last lesson she taught me was how to know when it it is time to quit fighting.

Within less than 48 hours of the initial call, I had become a member of the club that everyone joins eventually, but with few exceptions, no one ever asks to join. (I know in some cases people ask to join it.  Note to self: Google “Did Hitler have kids?”)  The last three and a half months have been both a whirlwind and an eternity.  As other members of the club have warned me, there have been good days and bad days. And terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days.  During this time, I have carefully avoided funerals. Until this week.

On Monday, I learned that someone who is a colleague and a good friend lost a parent unexpectedly.  Another member of the club.  And I knew it was time.  I went to the funeral, even though it meant a five hour drive each way.  And, you know what? I'm glad I did. It was meaningful to my friend and his family, and it gave me a little more closure. And it’s what Mom would have expected me to do. 

Am I still grieving? Sure. Am I still angry? Hell, yes. Am I still slightly lost? Absolutely.  Which means it's time to put on my big girl panties and reclaim my life.  I am my mother's daughter, after all, and as she taught me, it is nowhere near time to quit fighting.

Before my diagnosis, one of my favorite hobbies (besides cycling) was walking. (To those of you who tune in only for updates on my health status, you’re welcome.) 5K, 10K, hiking…anything to be outside and have some time alone away from my busy life. For the near future, no thanks to RSD, cycling is off the table as an option.  But as long as the battery holds out on HAL, I can walk like a boss. So I have worked up a plan to start doing charity walks again. 5K first, then 10K, then…who knows? I am hoping a half marathon is in my future. Probably followed by one of my trademark “perhaps I made a bad decision” posts.

I walked three miles this morning, with no apparent ill effect. (That is nearly a 5K, for those of you who are metrically challenged.) I wasn't happy with my finish time, but I can improve that with training.  Speaking of which, I have a training plan, and I bought a snazzy new pair of running shoes this afternoon.  So hang on, and keep your arms and legs inside the car at all times. I will keep you posted on my progress and my foot’s reaction. I still won't post every day, but I will try to be a little more regular about it. In the meantime, if you aren't yet a member of the club, be thankful and let your parents know you love them. If you are already a member, remember to keep fighting. 

9/5/16. The post where I celebrate an anniversary of sorts.

Today is a special day. No, I don't mean Labor Day, although that is pretty cool, too. It is my anniversary.  Not my wedding anniversary.  My patient, long-suffering husband and I celebrated that back in June along with around 75% of the other couples in this country.  

I became bionic two years ago today.  Approximately two weeks after my patient, long-suffering husband had back surgery, I had HAL (my trusty spinal cord stimulator) implanted.  In some ways, I am surprised that it has been two years, but in other ways, it seems much longer ago than that.  I re-read my blog from that day and it is amazing how far we have both come since then.  My patient, long-suffering husband has very few back issues these days, although he won't be joining the Olympic gymnastics team any time soon.  As for me, the 5-6 pain level that "didn't feel too bad" the day of the surgery is now fairly rare, thanks to HAL. While I would say the last month or so has been unusually painful for my foot, it's probably a good idea to go back and read about my pre-implant days every now and then so I have a better frame of reference.  Suddenly the last month seems downright pleasant, at least in comparison.  

Before I opted out of most of my online RSD/CRPS support groups, one of the things that caused me the most consternation was the number of people who were suffering through symptoms worse than mine because they were terrified of having surgery. As many of you know, I have had plenty of surgeries in the last ten years, and the stimulator implant was one of the easiest.  While I know not all surgeries go as well as mine and not everyone gets the degree of relief I have gotten from my stimulator, I would have the surgery ten times if it meant feeling like I do now compared to how I felt two years ago.  

And it's a good thing I feel that way, because I may have to have the surgery ten times. The battery life on HAL is estimated at 3-5 years. I use HAL at a relatively low level, but I use it 24/7, unlike many other people with stimulators.  I hope the technology will continue to improve with time, but I can live with an implant surgery every 3-5 years if necessary.  So, while friends are having us over for dinner today to celebrate Labor Day, I will also be celebrating my anniversary.  I hope HAL is getting me something nice.