A Year of Change(s)

One year ago, I was in ICU with a bilateral pulmonary embolism. A.K.A Saddle clot. The long and short of it is that I had blood clots in both lungs. The mortality rate is about 25%. Scary stuff.

I won't bore you with the details, but a lot has changed in the past year. I've made a ton of progress. Here it is, by the numbers:

• I've lowered my blood pressure from high 140s/mid 80s to mid 120s/high 60s.
• My resting heart rate is down from mid 70s to mid 50s.
• I've lost 90 pounds. (Nope, I'm not done yet.)
• I've dropped 8 inches off my waist. I've bought new pants and jeans, but not belts. Leather is still good, so I've just been drilling new holes.

I'm not telling you this because I'm looking for an attaboy. Nor am I trying to be preachy. I'm saying this because if I can change, anyone can. But I figured out that I have to listen to my body, but still know when I can push.

Avoiding past mistakes

Yes, I've changed my diet. No, I'm not starving myself and I don't deprive myself of much, either. Moderation is the key. I haven't given up beer, but it's a special occasion thing now. I've tried eating healthy before, but I sabotaged my efforts by going off the deep end any time I didn't strictly adhere to it. So now, I'm a big proponent of the 80/20 rule.

Yes, I've changed my attitude about exercise. Six weeks after my hospital stay, I was cleared to walk 10 minutes a day. Over the next six months, I increased the time I could walk until I was doing 3-4 miles a day. Now I do an hour of fairly strenuous cardio five days a week and strength training two days a week. I haven't been cleared to do more. Yet.

Trying something new

Probably the most unexpected change I've made, that I didn't think would ever happen, is that I meditate. It happened by accident; I started doing deep breathing exercises to help my lungs recover. And I noticed that I was a little sharper and a little more focused. So I meditate now.

Perhaps the biggest change is my attitude toward health care. A lot of that has to do with my employer, as I work for a health care company. I realize that preventative care trumps sick care. By a lot.

My doctor kicks ass. She's supportive, creative and calls bullshit when it's needed. She's whip smart and funny as hell. I also have a health coach that I see once a month who keeps me accountable, gives me advice and lets me talk about what I'm going through.

I will also tell you that I'm a big believer in FitBit. It tracks calories in and out, water and steps. Even tells me how good I slept last night. It takes five minutes out of my day and guards against the bad habit of eating without a purpose.

Starting slow and finding time

I'll tell you right off the bat that you don't have to go to the gym. More people say one of the overriding factors for not exercising is they don't have the time. And it's hard getting started. Hey, I've been there. But by starting small, increasing when the time was right and pushing myself when I could, I got better.

Wanna know a secret? Exercising sucks the first few days. I'm not going to lie to you. But do it every day for two weeks and you'll start to feel worse if you don't do it. Wanna know another? I lost more weight just walking than I have since I started going to the gym. More about that later.

I had to start slow because I had to. Doc was afraid my heart would work harder because of the clots. I adhered to a strict, 10-minutes a day maximum the doc set for me for a few weeks. Ten minutes became 15, and I could walk around the north end of the school in our neighborhood. Then it became 20 and I could make it down another block down and one more over. A couple weeks later, it became 30 minutes, and I could make it down and around the park. I started walking in the morning and in the evening for 30 minutes, one of the few things I did that didn't get cleared by the doc.

By mid-July I could go 45 minutes without stopping, then an hour. I was getting up at 5 a.m. to walk, every day.

Here's the deal: If you don't have time to walk 30 minutes, walk for 15 minutes twice a day. It might even be better for you than doing it non-stop.

Becoming a rat

When I got cleared to go to the gym, I didn't start right away. I liked walking. But as it got colder, it was my only option. Low impact was the key, so I was on the stationary bike for 30 minutes. First week of that hurt the old posterior. But I got used to it.

Most days, I'm the first one there. I go on the weekends, too. Fearing an injury that would set me back, the doc made me schedule two rest days a week. She's overly cautious, but I get it. I'm turning into a gym rat. Kinda. I've even been known to go to the gym a couple of times a day.

To top it off, Ashley has been putting in time, too. She goes five days a week and is making great progress. It definitely helps having someone who's not only in my corner, but on the front lines as well.

Changing it up

Although I like the bike, I've added elliptical, rowing machine and swimming to my cardio arsenal. Keeps things from getting boring. I'm not an efficient swimmer so much as I'm an inefficient drowner. But I get a little better each week. (I swim on my off days. Don't tell Dr. Toney.)

It's not my objective to preach. I hope I'm coming off as somewhat inspirational. And realistic. Is it hard? I would say, no, not really. Having a health scare of that magnitude changes the perspective quite a bit. I'm grateful for what I've been able to accomplish, the resources that have helped me, and the people who've supported me in my efforts.

It's a journey. One step, one minute, one mile, one lap and one day at a time.

Goodbye, Pretty Girl

Zelda was a rescue of sorts, a beautiful, one-year-old Golden Retriever when she came to us not long after Ashley and I were married. Her given name was Zelda Moonpie, and we didn’t bother changing it because it just fit. We also used nicknames Zee and Zellie, but I started calling her Pretty Girl.

A runner when she was younger, but always a lover, Zelda became equal parts protector and tackling dummy for our boys after they joined our family. She tolerated rides and wrestling and sometimes even curious pokes in the eye.

She was intelligent and funny. Early on, if she thought I was paying too much attention to Ashley, Zelda would insert herself between us to let Ash know she had competition for my affection. She would let me know she needed to go outside by standing in front of me and growling or softly barking, and if I said, “Go tell Ashley,” Zelda would go over and stand in front of Ash until she let her outside. Both of these quirks make us laugh.

If I have one complaint about Zelda, it’s she REALLY liked one spot in our yard and rolled there so often it caused the soil to compact so badly that it sits a little lower than the rest of the yard and I can’t get grass to grow. We call the spot “Zelda’s Buffalo Wallow.” If we were outside, or when she’s done rolling around, she would sun herself in the cool grass right next to it and watch cars and squirrels and neighborhood cats go by.

She hated getting her picture taken and would turn to hide if she knew we were trying to get a snap of her, which is why she's sleeping in almost all the pictures we have of her. During thunderstorms, she would hide in the bathtub, of all places. Same for Independence Day. She loved rubs on the ears and cheeks and down her velvety snout, and, oddly enough, steamed broccoli. 

She developed cataracts and couldn’t hear very well, and later on, arthritis in her hips, but was still a lover, and still a beautiful dog as her muzzle turned gray. She hadn’t been getting around very well for two or three months and a couple of weeks ago, she started having other issues. Her health deteriorated quickly, and blood tests indicated she had either cancer or a fungal infection in her blood. Neither offered a good prognosis.

Today was Zelda’s last day with us. When we get her ashes, I’ll bury my Pretty Girl in her wallow, so she’ll always be in the sun.

Open letter to a friend

This is kind of like when we drove out to see Haley's Comet at 4:00 in the morning. Remember?

As we drove to Lake Afton Observatory, we passed a car on the side of the road. We didn't think much of it.

It was so cloudy that we couldn't see the comet through the telescope. The car was still there when we drove by again an hour later. We thought the guy had a heart attack or something and we stopped to check on him. Turns out, he was just sleeping (or something) and jerked awake when we went to check on him. We scared the crap out of him and he scared the crap out of us when he roared out onto the highway. He probably thought we were going to carjack him. We laughed the whole way home. I still tell that story.

We missed the comet, and much like that, I missed the opportunity to see you one last time. You'd probably tell me, laced with realism, something like "I want you to remember me when I was strong and we had fun."

You're probably right.

I'm so sorry I didn't get to tell you all of this in person. I couldn't come for the candlelight ceremony. I drove down to Wichita hoping to see you either Sunday or Monday.  My rotten luck... I missed getting to see you. Your Mom said you were wiped out Sunday after the candlelight vigil and they were getting you ready to go home.  I missed the serenade Monday because I had to get the boys back home to Kansas City.

So here goes with the stuff that I wanted to say.
First of all, some of the Sig Ep alums were trying to come up with a way to honor you, and we decided to steal the DG anchor and take it to your Mom's. For several of us it would be a second offense, we decided to go a different route.

Instead, we're going to have a memorial placed at the Pavilion of Heroines at the Center for Women's Studies on the WSU campus. Probably more mature. I'm writing the bio, so your legacy is kind of at my mercy. (Insert maniacal laugh and villain-y mustache twirl here.)

Of course, I'm kidding. Don't worry. I'm going to tell people how great you are, because I know you would never do that. But I will, because in addition to the legacy you've created with your students, I want other people to see what you meant to us every day. I'll let someone else choose the photo, though. 

Something you probably don't know.
I still have the copy of "The World According to Garp" that you gave me for Christmas when we were freshmen. It's one of my faves, along with "To Kill a Mockingbird," "Catcher in the Rye" and "On the Road." I'm going to finally write the book you always said I should write, and I'm going to dedicate it to you. You've been as much a part of my career choice as anyone, and you are definitely the inspiration for wanting to get this done now. You chose to change careers and now, I will also. So, if it gets published, you get the dedication.

As I've watched you go through this battle with such grace, I so admire the woman you are. Not only have you raised awareness, you have helped each of us prepare. You truly are a teacher.

I'm so glad I got to spend a few hours with you when I was home back in the spring. I'll miss our frenzied text message conversations, and those occasions when we got to see each other.

This isn't the way I wanted to let you know how I feel, but I'm fairly certain that you know anyway.

I'll never forget you. I am honored to be your friend. If it exists, I'm certain that you will have as special a place in heaven as you do in my heart.

I love you, Kelli.

Joel

Thinking about life and salsa

I'm domestic when I'm worried. I used to clean the house. Now, I cook or write.

There's too much going on. Work stuff. Family stuff. I'm getting ready to officiate my nephew's wedding. My cousin, Patrick, passed away last week. I'm definitely in my head lately.

I've reached the stage in my life when guys hit the midlife crisis. But sports cars don't have the head and leg room I require and Ash says "No effing way" on the motorcycle.

Screw it. Let's make salsa.

Roasted Salsa
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. You'll need a baking pan and some olive oil.
Cilantro
Lime
Four whole tomatoes
Yellow onion - slice in half and pull the peel
Garlic - I used one clove of elephant garlic
Jalapeno peppers -5
Red bell pepper

The process
Place the tomatoes stem side down on the pan. Put a film of olive oil on all the vegetables. Roast for about 20 minutes, or until the red bell pepper turns black. Pull them out and let cool for 15 minutes or so. Handling them while they're still warm makes what you need to do easier.

Start with the red bell bepper. Pull the blistered skin off. Lop off the top and slice in half. Scrape out the seeds and ribs. Throw it in the food processer.

Next, the jalapeno peppers. For two of them, take off the top part and stem, then slice it lengthways. Scrape out the seeds and ribs. Slice each half in quarters and put in processor. For the other three, take off the top and cut them in quarters and toss it seeds and all into the processor.

Next is the onion. Roasted onions are slippery and their structural integrity has been compromised, so please be careful when you cut them. But coarse chop them and toss it in the processor.

Lastly, the tomatoes need to be done. WARNING: Roasted tomatoes hold onto their heat for a while. The blistered skin will come off easily, so peel it. Lop off the top and cut them into quarters and put them in.

Add fresh cilantro to suit your taste, along with the juice of one lime. Run the food processor for whatever consistency you like your salsa.

That'll do it.

Roasting the vegetables makes a big difference. I'll never make salsa again without doing that. It may not make up for not buying a motorcycle, but it's close.

Comparing John Wayne and John Wooden

There's a line in a John Wayne movie that I always loved. Now this is a stretch, so bear with me. But I thought of it when I read that John Wooden passed away.

In "The Cowboys," as John Wayne (as Wil Andersen) is leading a group of youngsters on their first cattle drive, the come across an Indian burial ground. Cimarron asks what it is and Mr. Andersen says "Little Big Horn." Cimarron says "They didn't even give him a decent grave!"

"It's not how they bury ya.
It's how they remember ya that counts."

                            - John Wayne (as Wil Andersen in "The Cowboys")


That has always stuck with me... It's how they remember you that counts.

John Wooden built one of the most dominant powerhouse college programs ever at UCLA. He won 10 NCAA championships in 12 years, had four perfect seasons, and was inducted into the Basketball Hall of Fame as both a player and coach.

He coached basketball for 30 years, but Mr. Wooden has been known longer as a teacher, humanitarian and thinker since the mid-1970s. He was humble, wise, giving and brilliant. I think it would be even more fitting if he was remembered as a teacher than a basketball man, and I think he would be proud if that was the case.

I read a short piece about Mr. Wooden after he passed away about the folks who saw him almost every day in his favorite diner. I thought it fitting that the kids he has talked to over the last 12 years in the diner probably do not realize he was one of the greatest coaches who ever taught the game.  So I'll finish this with my favorite quote:

What you are as a person is far more important
than what you are as a basketball player.

                            - John Wooden