Can Drew Do It?

I remember the days of being sick and staying home from school. I think most everyone does. And I had strep a lot, so I spent hours away from school when I was little, just hoping to get back to school (yes, I admit it, I was a bit of a brownnoser). I would lay on the couch, if I could con my mom into staying home with me, it would be a fabulous day filled with soup, pop, TV, and quality time with mom. If it was dad, then I would have to do some reading, because he would eventually get tired of hearing the TV. But, let's stick to mom, for a moment.

On those days, the mornings would be filled with talk shows and game shows. This was before the days of thousands of cable channels and DVR to record a years worth of a show. My two favorites were Press Your Luck and The Price is Right. On The Price is Right, I would always hope that I had lucked out enough to be sick on the day that someone was going to play Plinko, which was my favorite game. And the end of the game when they made their guesses for the big prize. I would always hope for someone to get so close that they would win both prizes. That was always so cool. I loved the show. And I loved Bob Barker.

Last night, the announcement came that Drew Carey will replace Bob Barker as host of The Price is Right. Drew Carey? I think he can be funny, but he is the polar opposite of Bob Barker. And I know I cannot be the only person thinking this. Who knows what Bob is like off camera, but on camera, he has class, and charm, and everyone loves him....while Drew is funny, and dumpy, and as charmless as I can imagine. Maybe that was what they were looking for, maybe they didn't want a similar show.

While I still have the occasional sick day, and I still lay on my couch, they are different. My mom isn't here, and neither is my dad. Sometimes I wish they were. Sometimes I watch The Price is Right, but mostly I watch shows I recorded on DRV, do work I feel guilty about missing, or sleep. Being sick as an adult is so much different. But now, I know I may tune in once out of interest, but that is all it is, just interest. I give the show a year, a year to collapse, a year to lose its fan base that followed Bob Barker, a year to realize that Drew Carey can't possibly do all the things their long time host did. Because we all know, you can't replace a legend.

Refinancing. Who knew it was so hard?

I am currently in the process of refinancing my home. So, I took all the info to the beach, reviewed what I could with my parents, and they gave me a list of stuff to do and who to call. This morning I did my research on all the types of loans, I made some notes, and wrote down who I needed to call. Knowing that I was going to feel stupid about these loans, I did thorough research, and felt like I knew inside and out what to ask and say, I knew the equity of my home, the value, and how much I still owe on my loan. I was prepared. Then I made my first call.

The first guy I talked to, TJ, from Bank of America, was very nice, but he starts throwing around terms, and dates, and percentages, in response to my questions. And I'm trying to write it all down so that I can look it up and review it with my parents later, but damn if I couldn't get it all down. There's just so much information.

So, now I am knee deep in information from two different mortgage lenders, and I still have two more to go. My head is spinning, and I can't even process it all. Too much information and it is all so technical, and all so related to my money! All I know is my really fine mortgage payments are going way up. Way up.

The Ocean Is My Fear

I love the ocean. Actually, that isn't completely true. I love to be at the beach, to walk on the beach, to fall asleep to the sound of the waves, and to forget about all my cares until I drive away from the beach. I am slightly afraid of the ocean. The animals and critters and such in there freak me out. Even on the hottest of days, I will be scorching on the beach, resisting the urge to swim. I'm so afraid of an animal touching me. Unrealistic-maybe; but, my own personal fear.

For as long as I can remember, my mom has always been the opposite. She was the one who played in the ocean with my brother and I; she was on the boogie board catching waves; she loves the ocean. She will stare at me longingly trying to get me into the ocean with her, knowing what my answer will be. I'm much happier sitting on the sidelines watching her, reading my book. She just sighs and drags her boogie board in.

This trip, my uncle wrangled us a kayak from the people down the beach. They had rented it for the week, and couldn't use it the entire time and offered us use of it one day. While it was such a kind offer, they only had one life vest (kinda strange for a 2 person kayak, but...). My uncle can't swim, which didn't make a whole lot of sense for him to be out in the ocean on a vessel that can flip. So, after two days of begging, I went out with my mom. My fears were the same, and fear was overwhelming, but I went because she does so many things for me.

We made it back without flipping, and I'm happy I did it. I can't say I'm going to be venturing into the ocean with every trip, but at least I know I can do it if I want.

Desire Runs Deep

Five years ago, I had a stroke. One that took almost a year to diagnose. It was in my spinal cord, which is rare, and it caused permanent damage to the nerves on my right side to the point that first I had no feeling on that side, then I had such excruciating pain that I could barely move out of bed. I lost control of my limbs, and would drag my right leg when I walked. I have a very supportive family, who lead me to the best doctors they could find-Mayo Clinic, Georgetown, University of Michigan hospital. Everyone sent me away not knowing what was wrong, implying I needed psychological help, that I was a hypochondriac, that it was all in my head. I was 22, I had just gotten my first teaching job, and I was broken.

I would spend my days pushing away people at work who wanted to help, because I just wanted to forget what was going on and do my job, and my nights sobbing because of the pain. I missed so much work that first year that I went without pay for a month. I was misdiagnosed three times and drugs were pumped into me I didn't need, and I went to a therapist, who helped me with my frustration, but couldn't find any cause of the pain. It was horrible. And a good example of the fact that medicine isn't perfect.

I went home for Thanksgiving that year, eight months after it all began, and my uncle suggested I try acupuncture. It had been successful for him, and he thought I might find some relief for my pain. I was skeptical, but he gave me a name, and this office also specialized in family medicine and pain management. How bad could it be? Little did I know, they would be my rock for the next five years.

Every month I return to that office for some acupuncture. They made the diagnosis, they manage my pain, and listen when I tell them something is wrong. They listen. All those big hospitals, with all their wonderful research studies, hot shot physicians, and diagnostic tools, but the one thing they didn't do was listen. They had a predetermined idea of what was wrong with me, because the prior "big" hospital also couldn't figure it out. Not here; here, they spent hours with me working it out, and while I still have pain, it is managed, and it is liveable- most of the time.

About a year ago, I went to my doctor and told him I was planning on walking 40 miles for the Avon 2 day Breast Cancer walk. He said great, go for it, it's a great idea. He will often tell me about how much respect he has for me considering what I've dealt with, and my lack of complaining and my desire to do so many things. I don't believe in limitations. My philosophy is that life goes on, and so do I. I am not going to be stopped by a fluke. I started training; I felt good about completing something I worked toward, and started looking toward a new goal.

Four months ago, right before the walk, I told him I planned on starting running, with the goal of doing a half marathon. There was a long pause, with a stare, and then he told me he didn't like that idea. He has always, always been straight with me. He was concerned about my pain level, that while it wasn't going to physically harm me, it would cause me more pain, and my pain has been under control. I am stubborn, and I didn't listen. I finished the walk, and started running.

I will run the Miami half in January with two other friends. I have been training for this for about a month and a half. As I ran this morning, I was thinking about the lack of sleep I have been experiencing lately because I'll wake up in pain, and the shooting pain down my right side. It doesn't hurt when I run, but as soon as I stop, it is there. This is enough to make me want to quit, it is pain so deep in my body, in the nerves, that you want to crawl back into bed and stay there until it goes away. But, a goal is a goal, and the memory of achieving it lasts forever, while pain will eventually go away. I will do this, and I hope to do it again. I quit one time in my life, and it haunts me; I will never do it again.

There are many reasons I decided to run this half marathon, and none of them are related to my health. My health is good. But the desire runs deep, deeper than the pain.

Big Order of Chaos

Today I got back from a very restful five days at the beach in the Outer Banks. For the last several years, we have rented the same home in Southern Shores. This week, though, we were down there two weeks earlier than normal, which lends to an entirely different crowd, much to us being there in an entirely different time.

Sitting on the beach on Wednesday morning, my mom pointed out to me a family from the house next to us with six kids. Four boys in the middle and an oldest and youngest girl. All of them looked alike, and there couldn't've been more than 2 years between any child above or below. As you watched them, it was almost in amazement, because I never thought I would want a family quite that large, because it would be so disorderly; more children than adults would outnumber you and take things over. These two parents had things more under control than friends I have with two children. Now don't get me wrong, these kids were playing in the ocean, having a blast, and there was definite competition for mom and dad's attention, but it was just so orderly.

Then, as you are taking it all in, you notice dad playing in the water with the kids, and what appears to be the oldest, or second oldest boy, wearing a life vest and clutching his dad's hand. All the other five kids, including the baby, who is no more than 1.5 are dodging in and out of the water, with the exception of this boy. It doesn't take too much observation from our special ed eyes in my family to come to the realization that he is a child with autism.

Over the course of the next few days, we would often watch this family cause these kids were so darn cute. They did what appeared to be their holiday photo on the beach walkway from the house all dressed in Polo (navy tops and khakis for the boys and navy dresses for the girls) and it was a 20 minute comedy to watch these parents get 6 children in position, smiling, and staying, all at the same time. But, again, it was orderly chaos if there ever has been such.

On my drive home today, I had a lot to think about, but I was thinking about why this family captured us so much. I cannot speak for my mom and dad or my aunt and uncle, although I suspect it has something to do with commandeering a certain amount of respect for these young parents along with a great desire from both to have grandchildren. I can speak for myself. I watched longingly because there is such happiness when people love what they are doing; and this family loved what they were doing with their big family.

I never thought I wanted a big family, and maybe I still don't. But, for now, I can keep those images that big can be orderly.

How to Turn the Glass Half Full

This week has felt like a week of failures that were meant to be successes. I am usually a "glass half full" type of person, but for some reason, this past week, I have been looking at certain things in the whole opposite way; a way I'm not used to doing.

Having taken up running a few months ago, and become determined to run a half marathon in January, I have been working harder at this than anything in a long time. And believe me, the decision to do something like this is driven from somewhere deep within my drive and desire to complete a challenge, because running causes me physical pain. Pain that disappears eventually, but pain well beyond the everyday aches and pains a regular athlete feels.

I started an 18 week training schedule for a half marathon. I have about a month and a half longer than those 18 weeks, but I decided that I needed a good enough base, that if I could get to the longer run weeks, and either build a few more miles in there, or hover there, then I'd be in good shape. Tuesday and Thursday runs were really good. Up until those two days, I'd been building up with 9 minutes running and 1 walking. On both of those days, I did no walking at all. I was feeling very good. On Sunday, I was supposed to go 4 miles. What a colossal failure that was. OK, so not that much of one, but it felt particularly bad after the prior two good days. I'm well aware that with all hard work comes failure, but about halfway through the run yesterday, I was adamant that a half marathon wasn't in my future. OK, so sweatin' it out two miles from home isn't exactly the best place to be making decisions like that, but I was hurtin'-in so many ways. Needless to say, tomorrow I will take to the road for week two, and an attempt at a fresh outlook-I was not a failure, I just failed that day.

One of my very closest friends at work, my mentor, my second mother left our school this year. It was heartbreaking to me. I'm still not sure how I'm going to react that first week in August without her beside me-guiding me, teaching me, being my friend. Since she left, the building has made the assumption that I will take over her lead teacher position. I have adamantly stated that I am not only not ready for the position, but do not want to deal with the bureaucratic red tape that comes with that piece of administration. I want to teach children, not complete paperwork and manage people at this point in the game. As people tend to do, they have pressed on; they seem to know better what I can do than I do, and believe that I can run our 40 person team despite my pleas.

The last thing I said when I left school on June 18 was that I was not taking the position, put all materials that came over the summer in a box, and we'd sort it out when we returned. As I stumbled, literally, into school today to drop some papers off and fax something, I come to find out that all papers are being delivered to me. That the school wide belief is that I am taking over the special education department, and will lead it. As I stared at all of these papers, I hadn't a clue what to do with them; Marg has run this department for the past 18 years. I have only been a teacher for 6. I don't have nearly enough knowledge to lead people. I realize just how wonderful this will look on a resume, and I understand that it is a credit to me that my colleagues and my principal believe I can do it, but I just don't feel I can be successful and/or make the department successful. I feel it is going to go to hell in a hand basket; and it will all be on me. That is a horrible feeling.

So, I was working out tonight and thinking about refilling my cup. As I write these words, I realize that both of these are negatives easily turned into positives, they just need their own spin. Change is difficult, but change is good. I just need to find my niche when it comes to these big time changes.