tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552938719016941832024-03-13T02:29:12.152-07:00Identity UndecidedIdentity Undecidedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06549167483453229443noreply@blogger.comBlogger55125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1055293871901694183.post-63268573600577264972023-12-29T11:30:00.000-08:002023-12-29T11:47:11.085-08:00Sometimes You Know Too MuchI know that not everyone will understand why I share so much of our lives, often in personal detail. There are many reasons, first...I process by writing. It is therapeutic for me to put proverbial pen to paper and silence the noise in my head by getting it out into a tangible format. Second, I have always believed that when we hide the messy, sad, even embarrasing parts of our lives, we are doing a disservice to others. We did not get to all the good in our lives by walking easy roads. The most beautiful and interesting people are the ones who have endured pain. Those who have risen from the depths and constructed their broken pieces into a beautiful mosaic...full of color, a few sharp edges...but ultimately a masterpiece we call life. These are the reasons I share. <div><br /></div><div>In this case I also share to document for Jon the days he lost. He has said multiple times that he is most disturbed by the fact that he just lost 4 days of his life. He has no recollection of the sequence of events that took place before he opened his eyes in the ICU with a breathing tube down his throat....so truly, this is for him. </div><div><br /></div><div> In the moment you don't always realize that the decision you are making is a life altering one. To make or not make the choice would set you down two very distinct, and vastly different, paths. My decision to call 911, for the first time in my adult life, was such a moment. Now, this may seem obvious to many...but to a seasoned ICU nurse, this decision was difficult...let me explain. </div><div><br /></div><div> Jon had tested positive for COVID about a week prior to that fateful call. I had just returned from my usual week of work in Las Vegas. He didn't feel terribe, but my Monday he was pretty fatigued and his ear was hurting. By Wednesday that earache had escalated and now included a brutal headache. The ear was also leaking fluid so we took him to the hospital, got some fluid since he was also febrible, and had his ear looked at. They said it was ruptured and he was given drops to treat it. Nothing seemed too amiss otherwise. By Friday morning he seemed to be doing well and even went on some holiday errands without me to grab some more gifts. He came home just as I was about to head out to a 1530 appointement. I told him I'd pick up Asher and that he should meet me nearby with Jackson so the boys could see Santa. He agreed. </div><div><br /></div><div> I arrived to the Santa location at 1730 and called him to see when he was coming with Jackson. He said he had a 10/10 headache and wasn't coming. I brushed it off then as he tends towards the dramatic at times (can we say man flu??) and called my mom to bring Jackson instead. Both boys had a great time and I we returned home about an hour later. I found him in bed, lights off, with his hands over his face. He said he had a terrible migraine. I asked what he had taken and he said he wasn't sure. So I gathered all the meds to make sure I knew what he was getting. We tried many tricks to get this "migraine" to go away. He never complained of stiffness in his neck, only of typical migraine signs. He was lucid, despite being in pain, and nothing really triggered me to feel like he needed to be seen at the hospital. He ended up settling a bit and we agreed I should sleep in the office so I didn't disturb him too much. </div><div><br /></div><div> I woke up early the next morning around 0400 as I was restless and a little worried about him. I went in to see him and he woke up, said his head still hurt, and I helped him to the bathroom. He was still lucid and making sense, and was fairly similar to the night before. I gave him some more meds, hoping it would finally solve the problem. I told him if this didn't clear up soon we'd need to go in, he agreed. I continued to check on him hourly, just speaking to him a little to ensure he'd wake up and see if he needed anything. He was clear and answering me appropriately...until he suddenly wasn't. </div><div><br /></div><div> At 1050 I walked into our room and told him that it was nearly 1100 and he should probably get up and dressed so we could go into the hospital. He didn't respond. I shook him a bit and he stirred but still didn't answer. I turned on the lights and shook him harder. He opened his eyes and looked about me but didn't answer. I then rubbed his sternum and asked him what day it was. After a few attempts he finally answered me..."Tuesday"...it was Saturday. I then called my best friend's husband, Brian, as he's an ED physician. He didn't answer, so I called his wife, a former ED nurse. I kept her on the phone with me as I continued to attempt to assess him. I noticed he was also drenched in sweat, unlike earlier in the day. I called my son into the room and we tried to sit him up. He was able to sit up briefly but then laid back down. I told Shanne to run to our neighbors house to see if they were home as the husband is also a CrossFit guy and I knew he'd be able to help me lift him. I called Jon's brother, Jamie, and gave him a brief rundown of what was happening and to meet us at the hospital, that I'd update him as I knew more. Shanne quickly said they didn't answer the door so I called our other neighbor. The phone rang 3 times with no answer and in that moment I decided to call 911. While I had been on the phone with his brother I had asked him his name...he mumbled a response that was absolutely not consistent with anything sounding remotely like Jon. I knew then that something was terribly terribly wrong. </div><div><br /></div><div>As I walked through the triage with the dispatcher I remained calm. I knew his symptoms were not consistent with a stoke as they were focal and not unilateral. Besides his clear fever his oxygen saturation and heart rate were normal. Nothing else was clearly wrong.
The medics arrived and began their assessment. His temperature was over 103 degrees at this point. I told them that he was A & O x 0. In medical terms this simply means he did not know who he is, where he is, or when it is. They continued to assess him and told me that they were getting the ambulance to come out. Since we live in a more rural area, the fire engine team is closer and has paramedics staffed. Now they were activating the medical side. </div><div><br /></div><div>When the ambulance team arrived the paramedic who had been working with Jon gave a brief report to his colleague. He stated, "I don't know if he can't answer or he just doesn't want to because he feels crappy." I was shocked, I KNOW my husband. If he knew I'd called 911 he would have perked up immediately and done anything to not be transported via ambulance. He was completely unaware of what was happening around him at this point and was no longer responding at all. I spoke up and told them that he COULDN'T answer them. They then tried to get him to stand up to get on the gurney, it was a complete failure. He wouldn't even sit up anymore. It took 6 men to get him onto the gurney. Six. There is no way I would have been able to do that alone. </div><div><br /></div><div> During this I had called my village and my good friend, Britt, came to get my boys. They had been sheltered in their sister's room in the back of the house and were completely unaware of the drama unfolding. When Britt arrived we closed our bedroom door and quickly took them down the hall, they didn't see anything and had no idea why there was an ambulance and fire truck in our driveway...but man did they think that was cool! I was still holding it together at this point, likely in shock, but I said bye to them and handed them off to Britt. My mom had also been sick so I knew she wouldn't be able to care for them well and I also didn't want them to notice daddy and mommy were suddenly gone. I'm so thankful that I have a village...this was only the beginning of how they all showed up... </div><div><br /></div><div> I wasn't allowed to ride in the ambulance, so Shanne and I followed in my car. My brother-in-law was already at the hospital by the time we arrived. We checked into the security area and were told to wait while they settled him in a room. It seemed like an eternity before they came and got me. Only one person at a time was allowed in to see him...so each time I went in, I was alone. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAF45gwWs0qZnqcHgacJ1LNBIduQ0Tn6GZo8Mj7OOC7kwVIfDTdBp-Vyv_Px5k24RDxShh_Di1rwy5q5XxTzNSmWyhbI3TsS3EUlmK9YatfjfcbOHF3bViWx39u39suratjJ_ghiCWMLVNzpVdqtEhQ4amXSSjIg1Rwg_UMnJwEKAIvZmrX1sDDPhOX2pQ/s640/IMG_0618.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAF45gwWs0qZnqcHgacJ1LNBIduQ0Tn6GZo8Mj7OOC7kwVIfDTdBp-Vyv_Px5k24RDxShh_Di1rwy5q5XxTzNSmWyhbI3TsS3EUlmK9YatfjfcbOHF3bViWx39u39suratjJ_ghiCWMLVNzpVdqtEhQ4amXSSjIg1Rwg_UMnJwEKAIvZmrX1sDDPhOX2pQ/s320/IMG_0618.jpg" /></a></div>When I first saw him I noticed his lack of color. As a nurse, especially an ICU nurse, we use all 5 of our senses to assess patients. Now that I was in a hospital setting, my brain flipped instantly into nurse mode. Taking in his color, skin temperature, facial expressions, vital signs, body movements, sounds, breathing rate, depth, and rhythm...all of it...simultaneously. I didn't like what my assessment was telling me. He was very agitated and moving constantly. They were trying to get blood from him and he was swinging his arm wildly. I jumped in to help and held him down as the tech drew blood. He was able to wrestle away from me and the needle flew across the room. Thankfully no one was hurt and they were able to get what they needed. The doctor came in to speak to me quickly and told me what they were doing. Giving fluids, attempting to get his temperature down (which was now 104 degrees rectally), getting labs, and we were going to go to get a CT of his head. They asked if I could go to help keep him calm. I agreed.</div><div><br /></div><div>
I sat there with him, wrestling with him constantly so he'd keep his monitors on, not hurt anyone around him, and not hurt himself. My brain was having a hard time trying to process what was happening as I've done this hundreds of times with strangers...but this wasn't a stranger...this was my husband. My husband who hit me in his failing and had absolutely no clue who I was. It was so surreal...and it was only the beginning. </div><div><br /></div><div> We went to CT without much incident, I insisted they strap him onto the table to keep him safe. We quickly got the results and there was nothing there...only some sinusitis (which he'd been dealing with weeks prior). This was reassuring and also maddening, as it meant we still had no answers. His labs had come back without much information either...nothing was too out of the ordinary there either. The doctor and I then spoke and it was decided they'd do a lumbar puncture. He suggested we sedate him as he'd likely fight them during the procedure. I agreed. </div><div><br /></div><div>I signed the consents and Jamie came to see him before we had to step out for them to complete the test. It felt like another eternity before they were done and I was let back in. When I saw him this time by stomach dropped. He looked terrible. Every siren was going off in my brain. I quickly looked at his nurse and told her, "he needs to be intubated." She said, "I know." I knew he needed the support of the ventilator soon. He was breathing so fast, working so hard to keep up with the demands of his body. His temp was now well over 105 degrees as well and they were trying to cool him down quickly...which is uncomfortable at best. They placed ice cold pads all over his core and upper legs and cooled them down to 5 degrees Celsius. Jon HATES being cold on a good day and I knew this was added torture to him. </div><div><br /></div><div>It wasn't long before I was told the culprit...bacterial meningitis. In that moment I knew this was much much more serious then we all originally thought. The ICU doctor was already involved and they knew he'd ultimately end up there once a bed became available. They moved him to the critical area of the ED and placed him on the ventilator and placed a large IV into his neck so they could give him all the medications he needed. </div><div><br /></div><div>When I came back in I felt beyond helpless. His eyes looked dry and were weeping so I asked for a washcloth so I could clean them. The nurse gave me one and left the room. I wet it with warm water and began to clean his eyes. First the right eye, it was red and irritated, but otherwise normal. Then the left eye. I lifted the lid and immediately my heart sank...his pupil was covering his entire eye. In medical speak, his pupil had blown. This is a very very bad sign. I frantically went from right eye to left eye to right eye and back. Checking again and again...saying "no no no no no no" over and over again out loud. Praying I was wrong. I wasn't. I ran into the hallway and started yelling for the team. They all came in and assessed his eye and agreed. They gave emergency medications to bring down the swelling and attempt to save his brain. The neurologist came and assessed him and then spoke to me. He discussed the plan and let me know they were also going to get an MRI once he was more sedated. He didn't have other deficits in his limbs, just the pupil at that point, so we didn't need another CT. I asked the neuro doc to be honest with me, how bad was this. He paused, took a breath, and said, "this is very very bad." </div><div><br /></div><div> As he walked out of the room I started shaking violently, I took my phone out of my pocket and called my mom. I think in these moments...these incomprehensible moments...we all just want our moms. I'm not sure she could understand me. I sobbed the sobs of a women who knew the love of her life was dying. A women who didn't know how to face the next moment in front of her. I sobbed the sobs that I've heard many times in my career...and they never cease to rock me to my core. I heard those sobs and when I realized they were my own...I just sank deeper into them. </div><div><br /></div><div> I walked out of the room...outside...and collapsed as soon as I saw Jamie. My world was falling apart, and now I had to tell him too. Between sobs I told him what the neurologist had said. Additionally, they were consulting neurosurgery to see if he needed to go to the OR and have a drain placed to monitor the pressure as well as drain excess fluid. </div><div><br /></div><div>During all of this one of my best friends, Alli, and my daughter had arrived. They were surrounding me with love, in the midst of their own pain. Jamie was a rock...literally and figuratively holding me up as his world was also crumbling. He'd go into the room when I needed a break. To see your previously strong husband in that state was rocking me to my core. I was numb and dying inside at the same time. Nothing and everything made sense. I felt only deep pain and a love so strong that I knew...even if he left me on this earthly side...we'd never actually be separated. </div><div><br /></div><div> And I prayed. Every moment I had. Into Jon's ear. Alone in my head. With others in person and on the phone. I prayed. For Jon. For our family. For the medical team. For peace. For strength. Sometimes it was more begging than praying. But all along I spoke to God. I knew only He had control over how this would turn out...whether it was they way I wanted it to, or not...He had it all in His hands. This was a small comfort to me...the only comfort I could find honestly. </div><div><br /></div><div> Eventually Jon was moved to the medical intensive care unit. I was a little more at peace once he was there. Not that I don't love the ED team, but in MICU I was home. It was familiar. He was well sedated now, stable, and there was nothing to do but wait. It was nearing 0300 on Christmas Eve and I knew I needed to go home and attempt to rest. My village had tried to get me to eat...they mostly failed...and I needed to close my eyes.
I drove home with Addy in silence. There were no words for the pain and uncertainty we felt. I tried to sleep in our bed, but there was a Jon-sized hole in the bed that felt like a void bigger than I could bear. I ended up on the couch, cuddling with our dogs for comfort. I only managed a little over an hour of rest. I got back up and attempted to do things I knew I should. I showered, I drank a smoothie, and I waited for my boys to come home. When they were dropped off I just told them that daddy was sick and in the hospital...and that he wouldn't be home for Christmas. They didn't ask many questions and were quickly off to play...bless the innocence of youth.
I had called his nurse overnight and gotten an update. He was doing well, had gone for the MRI, and we had no real other information. </div><div><br /></div><div> Jamie and I arrived back at the hospital mere hours after we'd left. We were now both allowed into the room...this was such a relief as I could now have support while I was wrestling internally between my nurse and wife brain constantly. At one point during the night I even had to acknowledge that Jon met the triggers for the hospital to call him into Lifesharing...as he could potentially become an organ donor if he continued down this horrid path. Thankfully, Darryl, told me that I could only be 2 things here, a wife, a nurse, or a coordinator...but I couldn't be 3. So I picked wife and nurse alone (that was hard enough). </div><div><br /></div><div> To have that knowledge...to know the implications of what we were facing...to be able to read the signs myself and hear between the lines of what we were being told, and to translate that for our family. It was brutal. It was exhausting. It was surreal. I simply knew too much. Sometimes you just know too much...
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg17_eFJTCKd8LnGfUd3uIQMqFWwUFSf32OdBm-t4ow955R4NE4K8aDvqNuoR5rkx_ydaGUQcuHLlELjxqNDO13FEwIY1qSxBb8cLbqopcush9ep0dv9sBC2exBNfsq5hXjVGCOJ7cEcIKPnAGRypBYlA8snlv3edTpH0QiSlBOL17H5EvDTkjN5hsb6ltM/s640/IMG_6578.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg17_eFJTCKd8LnGfUd3uIQMqFWwUFSf32OdBm-t4ow955R4NE4K8aDvqNuoR5rkx_ydaGUQcuHLlELjxqNDO13FEwIY1qSxBb8cLbqopcush9ep0dv9sBC2exBNfsq5hXjVGCOJ7cEcIKPnAGRypBYlA8snlv3edTpH0QiSlBOL17H5EvDTkjN5hsb6ltM/s320/IMG_6578.jpg" /></a></div>
That evening, around 1800...as Jamie and I stood in his room holding his hand...he stirred. I said his name loudly and asked him if he heard me. He shook his head yes. I then asked if he knew it was me. He shook his head yes. HE SHOOK HIS HEAD YES. ON PURPOSE. He heard me. He knew me. We weren't out of the woods by any stretch...but was he was in there, Jon was still Jon. He was still my husband. It felt like a weight came off my chest in that moment. </div><div><br /></div><div>The rest is not as dramatic. The breathing tube came out the next morning. We now know that the bacteria that caused his meningitis was likely from his sinus infection that went to his ear. They believe that the COVID infection is ultimately what cause it to go into his brain. He'll be getting twice daily antibiotics at home for the next week...luckily he married a nurse.</div><div><br /></div><div>Jon remembers most things from that point on. He remembers writing notes. He knows CrossFit and his wife saved his life. He knows he's forgetful and is getting better about letting me help him. He's exhausted. Like a to-the-core kind of tired I've never seen from him. But he's home. He's alive. He's going to be ok. He may have lifelong deficits, or he may not. We don't know. But I don't care. He's here.
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If you got this far, thank you. Thank you for letting me process my own way. I know this experience will have it's own ramifications on me. I can feel them. It is a heaviness that sits on me...even in this happiness, there is still sadness and pain. I know that a person likely can't go through something like this and not take a while to process and recover. And that goes for both Jon and I. Even though he remembers nothing, he sees my pain and knows what I went through...he feels guilt...sorrow...and an overwhelming feeling of loss. We're working through it all...together. 1% better every day. That's all we're going for.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL_01QDhxlzbWYS55Yln91dinNP96NcjwOqPzrrzuLQOfMCzaEzcjRaDOZZokoSL6wdyF2b9vCAojBc9bnSVtdaKIiKiteJT0cdCIJcmmTl1Uj430p5np6G1xfbT3dyIVFkKfCb_ulziPTNphFGClqS1PMFCWmcnEUHTz7grf2BfnUJYNVWZhjNRhZA-UX/s640/IMG_4122.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL_01QDhxlzbWYS55Yln91dinNP96NcjwOqPzrrzuLQOfMCzaEzcjRaDOZZokoSL6wdyF2b9vCAojBc9bnSVtdaKIiKiteJT0cdCIJcmmTl1Uj430p5np6G1xfbT3dyIVFkKfCb_ulziPTNphFGClqS1PMFCWmcnEUHTz7grf2BfnUJYNVWZhjNRhZA-UX/s320/IMG_4122.jpg" /></a></div>
To every single person who has called, texted, messaged, visited, responded, donated, given us food, love, gift cards...we are absolutely overwhelmed by all the love and support. It has buoyed us, specifically me, in this sadness and will get us through as we move forward. Thank you is not enough, but it's all I'm capable of right now. I love you all.
Thank you God for bringing him back to me. I know not everyone gets this chance, I've witnessed it time and time again. I promise I won't waste it.</div>Identity Undecidedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06549167483453229443noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1055293871901694183.post-47788205312048797502020-12-20T16:31:00.003-08:002020-12-20T16:38:23.257-08:00Through The Looking Glass<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTR3vGhPex-udeAzpZBpc-6gxx0yEQw4GwM_wGvFPieDOJC-3MexZylWeiGOfin2yexZWgIIsUbg4EopoN7OF705vYuPFGibgJMEgQpQzHj1JJmpwzkUdwicfbRpU2AFHmBar2Gk0QFO09/s225/download.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTR3vGhPex-udeAzpZBpc-6gxx0yEQw4GwM_wGvFPieDOJC-3MexZylWeiGOfin2yexZWgIIsUbg4EopoN7OF705vYuPFGibgJMEgQpQzHj1JJmpwzkUdwicfbRpU2AFHmBar2Gk0QFO09/s0/download.jpg" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>It's taken me a long time to try to process what's happening around me enough to string coherent words together on a page. As my state, my county, my hospitals, my people are in the midst of what can only be described as a disaster, I had the realization today that what I'm witnessing now is the closest to what I experienced in Afghanistan that I've ever seen stateside. It's crept up on me, the stress...the fear...the realization that my people aren't drowning, they are already underwater and all I can do is stand on the shore and try to throw them a life raft. </p><p>It's like the frog who was placed into a pan of water and as the water began to boil, the frog didn't sense the danger...until it was too late. This euphemism may seem silly, but it perfectly illustrates a common aspect of human psychology...we tend to accept things if they come upon us slowly, steadily...until one day we are standing in boiling water with no way out.</p><p>America is the frog. Except in this story the entirety of healthcare has been screaming out warnings for months...pleading for help, for safety, for compliance...and it fell on deaf ears, or maybe not deaf ears...they heard us, but they didn't care. America as a whole simply wanted to bury their faces into their TikTok videos and ignore what was happening in every hospital in this country. But the water kept getting hotter...and the frog didn't notice, because the temperature crept up degree by degree...until one day the bubbles started to roll. At that point there wasn't anything left to be done...the die had been cast and the frog's fate was sealed. </p><p>I am one of those healthcare workers who has been screaming for help since March. Pleading with my family and friends to listen, fielding texts messages from well meaning people trying to decipher if this was truly a problem or not. My answer was always the same...it's a problem, but the numbers aren't what matter to me, what matters to me is how the hospitals look. How the ICUs look. If they aren't bogged down, then we are ok. We are no longer ok...not even close to ok. The water is boiling over. </p><p>I've tried to explain my perspective but people don't seem to get it. As an organ procurement coordinator I travel to every ICU in my county. I have a literal front row seat to the disaster as it has unfolded. Today, as I entered one of our local hospitals I was almost stopped in my tracks by the calamity around me. I was instantly reminded of the numerous mass casualties we ran in Kandahar. There weren't bloodied soldiers everywhere, but there were patients stacked into converted rooms, PPE clad nurses, respiratory techs, and doctors running around trying to put out fire after fire, and there was an overall sense of hopelessness...of loss...of defeat. As I received report from the bedside nurse taking care of the patient I was following we spoke a bit about what was happening. I've known this nurse for over a decade...worked alongside her many, many years. She told me that this was the worst thing she's ever experienced in her entire career...that she doesn't know how they are doing it. What was left unspoken was the knowledge that none of them know how long they can continue until the entire system collapses upon itself, bringing everyone down with it.</p><p>I left that hospital and traveled to another one nearby...and was immediately met with the same situation. These nurses, pushed to their brink, were trying their best to take care of three ICU patients at once (the CA state ratio for ICU patients is one nurse to two patients, almost every hospital in our county has been above this ratio for the last week). The nurse I spoke to was gracious, and thankful for the help she was getting from another nurse...a nurse from a less impacted floor who had been floated down to help her care for her assignment. Amidst it all she was simply thankful that her team was able to support each other.</p><p>These are not isolated incidents or stories. This is playing out in eleven counties around us. There simply isn't room. Even the morgues are full. I found out that there is a person at a local hospital who's job it is to rotate the bodies in and out of the freezer every two hours. Imagine being that person. Imagine that for a moment. That's where we are at right now. We watched New York go through this months ago and seemingly learned nothing as a society. It was simply a story we watched on TV, blaming the media for over hyping the situation. Well, I can assure you this isn't hype, it's fact. </p><p>It's been exceptionally difficult to sit on the sidelines and watch this all play out...now it's excruciating. That is not to say I don't believe in what I do with my whole heart...I completely love organ donation and have been so proud of the lives I've helped to save this last year while the world fell apart. But now, as my best friends on earth struggle more than they've ever struggled before, I'm torn. I sit here, looking through the proverbial glass, into a world I know better than the back of my hand, completely unable to help them. I walk beside them every day...through their halls...around their corridors...watching everything they are experiencing, absorbing their stress and pain...and feeling useless. To that end I've asked if I can go back...not permanently...and not to the detriment of my primary job of saving lives through organ donation, but I can't keep sitting here and not attempt to throw my skills into the mix. I know that my impact will be very small, but if I can help one nurse to have a slightly better shift...help one patient suffer a little less...then I'll have made a difference. My co worker aptly described this personality (her personality included) as the "people who run towards danger." She's right. We aren't the only ones in our organization who feel this way either. I guess that's what makes us all truly great...our never ending desire to make a difference, to save lives, to alleviate suffering, to step alongside another human and share the burden, make the load even just a little bit lighter. I am honored to work with such amazing, empathetic nurses.</p><p>The one small ray of hope in this entire drama has been the delivery of a vaccine. I cried as I saw a picture of one of my best friends being vaccinated. I didn't realize how much fear I had that she would get sick at some point...that she would infect her husband...that they wouldn't be ok. I've teared up as every friend I have in medicine (and it's a lot) has posted their vaccine selfies. I will cry actual tears when I receive mine and when my husband receives his. And when the day finally comes that my mom is able to get hers, I'll finally have a huge weight lifted from my shoulders from the fear that she would get COVID and possibly die.</p><p>But despite the vaccine this is long from over...and again I plead with the entirety of America to please listen to us. Listen to the people on the frontlines. It is bad out there. There is no more space and even fewer healthcare workers to help. And I truly fear it's only going to get worse after the holidays...hard decisions will need to be made and more lives will be lost simply because of the lack of resources. Disaster medicine is here. The war front is now on our doorstep. The front liners are now your last defense.</p><p>Stay home, wash your hands, stay healthy...and for the love of God wear a damn mask.</p><p><br /></p>Identity Undecidedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06549167483453229443noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1055293871901694183.post-78868035316839499962018-07-22T14:07:00.002-07:002018-07-22T14:15:46.111-07:00We Are AutismI feel like I need to get this out...put it down on proverbial paper so that maybe I can reference it when the inevitable questions arise...and arise they do...often...always. Most are well meaning...some are accusatory, and many are fraught with sympathy and even fear.<br />
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Our son, Jackson, was diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) on April 2, 2018 (on Autism Awareness Day) at just over 18 months old. I was not surprised...in fact, I was relieved. When Jackson was around 13-14 months of age I found myself googling the signs of autism in very young children...I’d pour through YouTube videos posted by parents...searching for my son in these children’s behaviors. Jackson is my third child...my third toddler. I knew something was off. He was a beautiful, happy boy...but he would not communicate with us. He’d babble, but it never seemed to carry any meaning. He had no concrete words that he used with regularity. Beyond that he wouldn’t point to things he wanted or drag us to objects he wished for us to get. He’d just cry...and tantrum. He had very repetitive, odd behaviors. He was obsessed with closing doors, drawers, and latches (he was so obsessed he’d close all the baby locks for us if we forgot!). He'd get upset if you got in the way of his sometimes obsessive routines. He also seemed to lack the normal toddler empathy. Most young toddlers, when faced with another person who is sad, will attempt to comfort that person...they may simply acknowledge the sadness, become sad themselves, or offer a toy as a means of attempting to make the person happier. Jackson seemed entirely unaware of the emotions of those around him. Once when I was very sad and crying he sat on my lap and laughed at me...I’m sure my tear stained face with mascara running down was funny to him. He also seemed to only have two emotions, happy and upset...there was no in between. <br />
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I knew something was different with my beautiful boy. When I sat in the waiting room for his 18 month appointment I stared at the long list of marks I’d made in the NO column of his MCHAT (modified checklist for autism in toddlers) it started to click that my mom intuition wasn’t wrong. As his pediatrician went over the form she suggested starting the process of doing speech and developmental assessments. She didn’t sound concerned and even suggested we could wait...but I knew this was what he needed. We pressed onward.<br />
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Jackson’s speech assessment occurred prior to his full developmental assessment as a scheduling fluke. As Jon and I sat in the speech therapists office I watched her watch Jackson with her trained eye. I tried to see him as she did and not simply as his mother. I watched him throw every toy on the ground...become upset when we would put the toy back. I saw him walk in circles around her office trying to open and close every door and drawer he could reach. I noticed how he refused to engage with her as if she didn’t exist. She asked us questions and towards the end shifted her focus and mentioned several times that she wouldn’t proceed until his developmental assessment was complete “in case he got a diagnosis.” As we left the office I looked at Jon and asked him if he heard what she wasn’t saying...he hadn’t. I knew with certainty in that moment that our little boy had autism...there wasn’t a shadow of a doubt in my mind at that moment.<br />
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The next few weeks were a flurry of phone consultations and paperwork. The day of his official assessment I was mentally ready for the outcome. We sat in the psychologists office as she went through the litany of standard tests with him. It wasn’t long before she went back to her computer and stated simply that Jackson had ASD (autism spectrum disorder). It felt as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders...we had a diagnosis, my mom intuition had not been wrong, and now we could move forward and attack this. I glanced at my husband and realized his world seemed to be crashing down. He had not come to the same conclusion I had and instead was waiting to see what the experts said. This was his first child and he didn’t have years of parenting experience to back up what he was seeing and what would be considered “normal” in a child Jackson’s age. My heart broke for him as I then realized so many dreams we had had for our son may never come true. In all honesty I really tried not to dwell in that dark place too long because I knew it wasn’t productive...but there are still many moments that those thoughts come unbidden.<br />
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From there Jackson went through many, many more assessments...from our local regional center, Applied Behavioral Analysis provider, and even our school district. It was during this time that we realized how rare an actual medical diagnosis of ASD at his age was. As I always do I dove into the research to see why. Most of it seems to be insurance driven. As of 2017 California is one of 46 states that mandate treatment for children diagnosed with autism...but that treatment is costly (an estimated $17,000 per year and 1.4 million over the course of that child's lifetime) . Although the American Academy of Pediatrics recommends screening children beginning at 18 months, most insurance providers will not give an official diagnosis until age three...even though <a href="https://www.cdc.gov/ncbddd/autism/treatment.html" target="_blank">research</a> as shown that early intervention services can greatly improve a child's development. As early as <a href="https://education.ucsb.edu/sites/default/files/autism_center/images/Koegel,%20Koegel,%20Ashbaugh,%20Bradshaw%20(2014)%20The%20importance%20of%20early%20identification%20and%20intervention%20for%20children%20with%20or%20at%20risk%20for%20autisms%20pectrum%20disorders_0.pdf" target="_blank">1992</a> it was recognized that developmental trajectories were already well established by the preschool years and delays in communication could have lifetime affects on these vulnerable children. However, if these same children were intervened upon early and given a substantial "dose" of treatment (in the form of behavioral, occupational, and speech therapy among others) then by the time they reach school age they have a chance at being indistinguishable from their peers.<br />
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I'm still unsure as to why there is a huge disparity between the research in favor of early intervention and the actual diagnoses being made. Many have pointed out that even if Jackson did not receive an official diagnosis from our insurance he could still be evaluated and treated by our local regional center. While this is true, the actual therapy hours available to him stand to be much less and therefore would decrease the "dose" of helpful interventions he would be receiving. As it is now he has been approved for unlimited therapy hours by our insurance. He also receives services from the school district and the regional center. Some families that do not receive medical diagnosis from their insurance are only approved for 10 hours or less per week...they are then faced with paying for needed therapy out of pocket.<br />
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The other problem we've seen since entering this mystifying world of autism is the prevalence of families who want to ignore the warning signs. Many have asked us if we are going to get a second opinion. Our answer is a resounding no. At the end of the day neither of us care what label they give our child so long as they are giving him the treatment he so desperately needs. To fight the diagnosis and label would be to fight and perhaps lose the countless hours of therapy he gets...and that is simply counter intuitive in our book. The therapy he undergoes causes him no harm. It is all play based and usually fun for Jackson. Although they impose demands upon him, he is rewarded for complying with those demands. His life is getting easier as he is learning how to effectively communicate with those around him (via sign language as he remains non verbal). Our little boy is blossoming with all the hard work his team is doing...and we couldn't be happier.<br />
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I know that our family and friends simply want the best for us...but I assure you we are carefully and thoughtfully navigating every aspect of this journey. I feel for those families who have to struggle to obtain services for their children and I'm thankful every day that we have a team of doctors and an insurance provider who understand and agree with the overwhelming research in favor of early intervention.<br />
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At the end of the day we only want what is best for our child and our family. We have embraced this journey as best we can...some days are a struggle but we have an army behind us who are there when we fall. Thank you to those who have been there for us...your support and love is not unnoticed. We also rest firmly in our faith and know that God gave us this child because we were well equipped to help him...for that and so much more we are eternally grateful.<br />
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<br />Identity Undecidedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06549167483453229443noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1055293871901694183.post-63302018475944627952017-09-29T15:32:00.002-07:002017-09-29T15:32:32.116-07:00Between Nothing and EverythingThere are moments in life that you know you'll look back upon someday and remember. Maybe you'll remember them with gratitude...or a smile...or an element of sadness. How I'll look back on today is not yet determined. <div>
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Let's back up a bit because I feel as if I'm being a bit vague. My point in immortalizing this is not to garner sympathy, but rather to share this crazy journey in an effort to someday help others...in the meantime I'd rather not walk it alone.</div>
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I started having headaches a few months ago...but not just headaches, migraines. Ones that didn't seem to fade and instead increased in frequency. One afternoon it all became too much and I asked Jon to please take me to the ER. Once there they had to do a complete workup as I've never been diagnosed with migraines. I had the complete run of testing including a CT scan and MRI of my head. Nothing showed up that could be the cause of my headaches...but they did find a small meningioma (or brain tumor). I later learned that meningiomas are fairly common and almost always found incidentally. Mine was small (1 cm by 0.5 cm). It wasn't pushing on any other structures nor did it seem to be an issue at all. I was advised to follow up with my primary care doctor. </div>
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Thankfully I'm actually friends with my primary care doc because I used to work with her at Mercy. So I sent her a quick email asking what I should do next. She put in the requisite referrals to neurology to follow up on the headaches and neurosurgery to follow up on the meningioma. When I met with the neurosurgeon we devised a plan to simply monitor the tumor with another MRI in 6 months. If it grew at all in that time we'd remove it...if not we'd continue to watch it until it inevitably grew large enough to be removed, "but that could be when you're 60," he said. I casually mentioned my history of cancer and he thought that maybe it would be prudent for me to get a PET scan to rule out any metastasis as that is the only other thing this tumor could possibly be (besides the very likely benign meningioma). </div>
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Again I typed up an email to my MD and she put in a quick referral to oncology. They were on board with the idea of the PET scan and I got an appointment rather expediently. As the day of the scan approached I was more concerned with the 10 hours of fasting than the actual test results...but I did as they said and only consumed clear liquids for the day...even though I was working and probably a beast to deal with that day (sorry guys)!</div>
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The test was uneventful...boring and long, but not too awful. They inject you with radioactive glucose, you wait for it to work, and then you lay in the scanner while the machine looks at how your cells use the glucose. Cancer cells utilize glucose more readily and hence have more avidity (they light up) on the scan. </div>
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After the test Jon took me to get some food and we went home...sadly I couldn't come within a meter of the kids since I was still harboring some of the radioactive agent...so I drank plenty of water to clear it quickly (mama needed to hug her babies)!</div>
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The next morning I logged into my computer at work and pulled up my chart. At the facility I work at we are allowed to read our own chart (just not that of our family members). I found the scan from the night before and double clicked it to read the radiology report. I've been a nurse for a long time and read hundreds of radiology reports. I'd already read my CT and MRI reports numerous times. I understand the lingo...I usually scroll to the end for the concise reading. This time I read every word. </div>
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3 avid nodules. Three. In my left axilla. My lymph nodes. Three of them. One 11mm. One 9mm. One 6mm. "Further testing recommended to rule out active disease"...</div>
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I logged off my computer and walked to my charge nurse. I was crying. I could only motion him to a computer where I logged on again and had him read the report. Maybe I wasn't reading it right. His face said I was.</div>
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Ok...maybe it's nothing. Possible. Maybe it's something early. Also possible. Maybe it's everything...</div>
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So that's where we are at. This weird limbo in time between nothing and everything. I've spoken to my doctor and our next move seems to be biopsy. Let's see what those little lit up suckers are. Why are they lighting up so readily? Why only on that side? What are they trying to tell us?</div>
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I guess we'll find out...soon. Until then, we wait...and pray...and hope...and tell ourselves it's nothing, but prepare ourselves for the everything. </div>
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So maybe someday I'll look back on today as the day that started it all...and maybe I'll look back on today as the day that was nothing. Either way today was a stark reminder that life is all those little Hallmark sayings wrapped up in the mundane moments. It is precious. It is short. It is meant to be lived...and enjoyed...and loved. It is dirty, and ugly, and difficult. Life. Is. Everything.</div>
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So whatever these three little nodules say...I mean to live through it. Whether it's nothing, or everything. Life is meant to be fought for...and I'm ready for a fight. </div>
Identity Undecidedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06549167483453229443noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1055293871901694183.post-28266317913559362112016-06-23T07:00:00.000-07:002016-06-23T07:05:12.717-07:00Always Go Towards The Light<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's a beautiful morning...I'm alone in my king size bed covered in fantastic new linen (gifts from our insanely perfect wedding two weeks ago)...my husband just left for work...I'm sipping coffee and looking out my bedroom window on the 2.4 acres we own...I'm missing my kiddos more than words as they are spending some quality time across the country with their dad, but I'm feeling the little man inside me kick up a storm to remind me that I still have one baby with me. <br />
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Life. Is. Good.<br />
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But if you know me, really know me, you know that it hasn't always been this way. I did not arrive at this point by accident, nor luck. I arrived here through trials and tears...through the traumas of war and the trauma of a marriage no longer salvageable...through blood and sweat...hard work and dedication...faith, hope, and a whole lot of grace.<br />
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I've been meaning to write this for a while...to put into writing the evolution of my life over these past few years...to remind myself someday that life can change unexpectedly and one must always be thankful for what they have...cherish it, hold it tight, and work like hell to keep it.<br />
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Two years ago I was still in Afghan land...in that place that I still haven't really put into words...that place that changed me at my core...made me more grateful, made me not take anything for granted, slowed me down and woke me up. Even though I was surrounded by trauma and sadness...I found my tribe, my people, my Afghan family. The people who saved me everyday, gave me sunshine in the rain, and held me when I fell...out there and back at home. <br />
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Two years ago I was out there...but my life at home was falling apart. Had been for years, but now it was in a full on collision course with the end. That train never stopped and the day after I came home from nearly a year away we began the official process to end our nearly 11 years of marriage. Although it was what I wanted, divorce is NEVER easy. It's a process that strips you to your core and examines parts of your soul you've never seen. It takes two people who were once a team and puts them into the arena for a Hunger Games type battle. It drags family and friends into the muck to choose sides, hold up alliances, and make the waters even murkier. It's ugly...even when it's mutual.<br />
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As I laid in bed next to my mom one night before we moved (since I was no longer sharing a room with my ex), I cried. I cried because I didn't know where we were going to end up...I didn't know how custody was going to play out and if my ex would truly fight me for our kids...I didn't know anything. I just didn't know.<br />
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We sold our home and I moved with my mom and kids to a rental nearby. In the course of all this I had surgery to repair my knee that had been injured in combat training...I was reduced to crutches and was no longer the strong, solid chick who could outlift some of the dudes...but rather a former shadow of myself. Sleep deprived from stress, unsure of my future, limited by my new disability...<br />
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It's in these moments when your life has shattered to pieces that you have a choice...you can choose to sit among the wreckage...or you can choose to take the pieces and rebuild them into something stronger and more beautiful. You can choose to see the light that is always at the end of the tunnel...even if it's so far off in the distance that you have to use binoculars to see it...and move steadily towards it. I assure you that in this process of rebuilding that you will make mistakes. Pieces you thought fit, won't. You'll possibly have to begin again and start from scratch. But the light will never move...and if you keep your eyes fixed upon it you'll reach a point where you are blinded by it's brightness.<br />
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I finally got to a point, on my own, where I was making it happen. Custody had been worked out, the kids had started at a new school and were happy, I'd started a new endeavor as a health and fitness coach, I was slowly regaining my strength and with it my confidence. Things were looking up...and then they took a drastic turn.<br />
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A long time friend was returning from his own tour of Afghan land and wanted to meet up for coffee to discuss life-post-Afghan and catch up as we hadn't spoken in almost a year. I agreed...but as the day grew closer some strange part of my personality took over my better judgement and asked him why he wasn't just making this coffee meet up into a date...like a real date. He took some time to answer (as I now know he always thinks carefully about what he says before he utters it) and told me simply that he never thought I'd be interested in going on a date with him...I told him he should ask. And he did.<br />
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With that one small turn of fate my life changed course entirely. I firmly believe that once your feet are on the path they are meant to be on, doors open and opportunities arise around every corner. God, the Universe, whatever you believe in (personally I choose Him) rewards you for moving in the right direction by consistently giving you more chances to keep going forward. But this is not a passive process. You have to try. You have to work. You have to be willing to struggle a bit. It's not easy, but at least you finally are moving towards that light with a vengeance and a purpose.<br />
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He moved in, we got engaged, the kids loved him...my ex and him even got along really well...we got pregnant (wayyyyyy earlier than we planned, but again, you take the chances and keep moving forward)...we found our dream home and bought it, we moved, and we had the wedding of our dreams. Life is far from perfect now, but I wake up every morning, look over at my sleeping husband, and say a prayer of thanks for this man and this beautiful life we are creating.<br />
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Sometimes the road seems long...but look hard for the light and never, ever stop moving towards it, because standing in the light is the most beautiful experience you could ever imagine.<br />
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<br />Identity Undecidedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06549167483453229443noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1055293871901694183.post-29126461165127845892015-02-14T20:26:00.000-08:002015-02-14T20:26:42.128-08:00UnravelingI apologize in advance if this post seems overly personal and the thoughts extremely scattered. They are and it is. This is merely MY experience coming home. From deployment. From a combat zone. From a trauma hospital. Back to my life that has completely changed in the time since I've returned. I'm not the same person who left over a year ago. That girl is gone...<br />
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Dear Mom,<br />
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I've been home almost four months now. Four months since I set foot on US soil again. Yet some days it feels like I left yesterday. I've struggled to put this all into words... but I'm going to try because I feel like it may be a form of therapy, and trust me, I could probably use that about now. <br />
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People constantly ask me questions..." How was it?" "How are you?". Such well intentioned, innocent questions. And yet the answers still allude me. It's not that I don't try to answer, but in all honesty I don't think I can. So usually I just give the same answer, "life changing." It was...<br />
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They prepared us so well to go there. Every element of trauma, combat, and life covered in excruciating detail. Of course they glossed over the things we could expect upon return... and then again as we processed out in Germany. But we barely listened. We were tired. Really tired. Bone deep kinda tired. Seven months in Afghan land will do that to a person I guess. <br />
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We were given lists of symptoms we might experience as we returned to our "normal" lives. And I truly think if life occurred in list form I may have understood the signs. But that's not the way it works. Life isn't organized like that. Life is messy. Sticky fingers, kids yelling, people shouting, world changing kinda messy. It was easy to miss the signs. I missed the signs.<br />
<br />
Put me in a small space with crowds and you'll find me pressed against a wall on the verge of tears. Normal. Perfectly normal.<br />
<br />
Sleep... or the lack of it. Waking up every few hours from the nightmares not always of things I'd seen... but of being trapped, unable to get home. Of course sometimes there were bombs and broken bodies, but that isn't always the case. Normal.<br />
<br />
Racking sobs at a commercial or a movie trailer that vaguely reminds me of life there. Tears running down my face dragging my mascara with it. Normal.<br />
<br />
But it's not normal, is it? I'm not "normal" anymore. WE aren't normal. Those of us who have lived in that place aren't normal. We have to adjust to our new normal, but we aren't the same.<br />
<br />
But why? I wasn't beyond the wire constantly on guard and fearing for my life with every step. I wasn't wearing my body armor knowing it was the only line of defense between me and an IED. I wasn't the one rolling into the trauma bay on a gurney and full of blood. That wasn't me. <br />
<br />
I've been a nurse for a while now. I've worked in a trauma center since day one. I've seen death on every level. The expected, the senseless, the hopeless. I've seen it all. I've held hands as life has slipped away. I've been the only witness to last breaths and final prayers. Why was life and death in this place so different?<br />
<br />
I've figured out a small piece of that difference. A small string in the unraveling of this post-Afghan life. It was about walls. Those high, almost insurmountable walls I had built around my heart. In the states we all know that every patient has a story. But I don't know it. I don't live it. I can keep them at arms length and not let it get to me. Those walls came down there. The patients there were not merely patients. Many were friends, comrades, brothers and sisters in arms. <br />
<br />
The boy in trauma bay one had sat at the next table at the DFAC that morning. The girl in bay four had passed me on the street on her way to the motor pool to head out on her mission. The Major standing at the foot of the bed had been in front of me at church last Sunday. The boys milling about the trauma bay had been here before, many times. Some so often they'd earned nicknames.<br />
<br />
I'd stood beside them at countless Purple Heart ceremonies. Seen their faces in too many crowds. Knew their names. They were fighting for me, with me, next to me, in front of me. They were so familiar to me that every time my pager went off it came with the fear that I would know the face in front of me on the gurney. These patients were personal. They were not nameless. I knew their stories. Even if I didn't know them directly, I lived the same life they did. I wore the same uniform. There were no walls. Only us against them.<br />
<br />
While I still don't entirely understand the why of it all, this is a start to figuring out why a piece of me will always be at the base of those mountains in Southern Afghanistan. A piece of all of us will be... and in that we have an everlasting camaraderie and kinship that will last a lifetime.<br />
<br />
I know this is only the beginning of putting these pieces back together. It's a long road and I'll always be a bit different now. But I'm not broken, just bruised. Fixable.<br />
<br />
Life. Changed.<br />
<br />
XOXO,<br />
<br />
MeIdentity Undecidedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06549167483453229443noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1055293871901694183.post-60651678884886355892015-02-09T21:20:00.000-08:002015-02-09T21:20:29.596-08:00The Low Down Skinny (or Healthy)There's a reason this blog was named Identity Undecided. Basically this girl goes down so many different life tangents it would have been impossible for me to stick to one topic, so I gave myself the ability to be ADD with this blog (didn't need hindsight for that revelation!). That being said, I'm sure many of you are wondering what the heck I'm doing lately with this "fitness coaching" stuff... let alone with a multi level marketing company like Beachbody. Well, let me tell you a story...<br />
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In reality, this was not a spur-of-the-moment decision. My journey to coaching started years ago. When I was a new nurse on night shift I was tired. Like Tired (with that on purpose capital T). There isn't quite a tired like the after night shift tired. But a girl needs to look good in those scrubs and stave off the dreaded nightshift weight. I wasn't really training for any crazy run or triathlon at the time (and I hadn't gotten the CrossFit bug yet) so I needed to do something. I had heard about this program called Insanity. It seemed totally something I'd be in to. So I conned my friend (fellow nightshift nurse) Alli into joining me in this program. We'd meet daily to complete the crazy, heartpounding, sweat-inducing suffer fests (I say all this tongue in cheek because I LOVE Insanity). Turns out, that sh*t works. Like really works. I felt comfortable rocking a bikini after that program. And then I moved on to Insanity Asylum... and then P90X. I did them all... with Alli, alone... whatever it took. I loved it... every awful second. <br />
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And then I found the next race to train for and got lost in my world of endurance sports... joined the Navy Reserves, and eventually deployed to Afghanistan... where I fell in love with CrossFit. <br />
<br />
But before I left I saw that my coworker and friend <a href="http://www.jaclynraevivavida.com/" target="_blank">Jaclyn</a> had begun her Beachbody journey. She has always been someone I've looked up to. She is a beautiful soul who has poured her heart into her business, her coaches, and her customers. Her love of people and their fitness journey was inspiring. She reached out to me but I wasn't quite ready to join her... leaving for deployment kind of threw a wrench into life. I told her then, over a year ago, to keep me in mind... something in her journey resonated with me...I felt like that could be my niche.<br />
<br />
Fast forward to a few weeks ago. I was post surgery, looking at months of rehab and not going back to full time nursing in the very near future. Jaclyn reached out to me again. She wanted me to join her team. In the year I'd been gone she had built a thriving following. She was real, genuine, and truly had a heart for helping people reach their goals. I wanted a piece of that. A chance to help people reach their best version of themselves. An opportunity to enhance wellness instead of combating illness. So I said yes. I jumped in, became a customer and a coach with Beachbody...and haven't looked back since.<br />
<br />
You know, it becomes exhausting as a nurse to constantly deal with illness. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do with a fierceness. But there is something so satisfying about helping someone along the road to wellness. Not popping a pill, but truly getting into the nitty gritty of life. The dirty laundry of bad habits, poor nutritional choices, little to no exercise, and an overall lack of accountability (or anywhere on that spectrum really). To be a ray of hope. A voice of reason. Someone to hold a person accountable and tell them that you know what... you can do this. Honestly.<br />
<br />
But let's be fair. Beachbody sells products, right? Yep, they do. Great ones at that. I have never been one to sell things I don't believe in. I have to be fully invested and in love with something to even think about promoting it. And I love Shakeology. I love Insanity. I love P90X. And I'm loving my 21 Day Fix kit. I also love running, biking, swimming, and CrossFit. That will never change. I've incorporated the products into my life. Sipping my Shake O after a tough workout. Popping in a DVD when I really don't have time or energy to get to the gym. I'll never be the girl who exclusively works out at home. And honestly, right now I'm so limited on what I can do that I'm relying heavily on my 21 Day Fix and it's portion controls to keep me in check. And you know what... again? That sh*t works. Like really works (I'll prove it soon). Fancy that.<br />
<br />
So really I say all of this to say that I'm not here to be a gimmicky salesperson. I'm here to help you. Honestly. Genuinely. I want to join people on their journey to health. And I want to be joined on mine. I want people on my team that have the same vision as I do. I want people who push me to be the best coach I can be, and I need accountability too. I believe in the products Beachbody offers. I spend my money on it...I work hard for that money and I believe in investing in my health and the health of my family. <br />
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I hope this gives you all a clearer understanding of this new "thing" I'm doing with my life. I'm happy, working towards healthy, and ready for this new adventure.<br />
<br />
Got questions? Please ask. I'm an open book. Identity Undecidedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06549167483453229443noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1055293871901694183.post-27558225684243103092014-11-26T17:08:00.000-08:002014-11-26T17:08:13.404-08:00It's Time
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I feel like since leaving Afghanistan I’ve had
what I can only describe as writers block towards putting a proverbial pen to
paper on my experiences being gone for a year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I have scribbled notes and half written blog posts from along the
way... but nothing worthy of posting just yet. Many moments couldn’t be written about at the time due to operational security risks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But now I’m home. And it's time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">It's time to give voice to the crazy memories made over a year. Many were wonderful, some were terrible, others were life changing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">It's time to put in words the vast sacrifices we all made.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">It's time to validate the time I took away from my family... to list reasons (if only for me now and maybe someday for my children) why I had to be there... why I made a difference.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">It's time to at least slightly crack open the vault on moments I never, ever want to forget.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">So here it goes... mostly in letter form as before... some in poetry. Starting from where I left off (which was months ago). Wish me luck, it may be a bumpy ride...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span> </div>
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Identity Undecidedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06549167483453229443noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1055293871901694183.post-42489763516661828612014-04-25T00:23:00.000-07:002014-04-25T00:23:01.204-07:00Boots On Ground<table cellpadding="0" class="cf adz"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boots On Ground...literally</td></tr>
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Mom,</div>
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I know it's been a while since I've updated you on life here...but unfortunately now that I'm "in country" there is so much that can only be shared in retrospect. So I may be quiet for a long while, but know that eventually you'll hear about my life and adventures in this crazy place. For now I'll share a bit of what I can about my new world and daily life here...</div>
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I've been here for about two months now (I think)...time is a funny thing here...you never really know what day it is or what time zone you are on when you initially get here, but also, everyday seems to blend into the next and each day is roughly the same. It's like a perpetual groundhog day, same faces, same food, same job...and yet the time just flies...</div>
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Starting right away on the night shift really helped me adjust to the time difference as I essentially stayed on the same time zone as home. I have since continued on that shift since our move to teams. It's been quite a transition though. When we first arrived we came in every night for orientation and then came to meetings in the afternoon...so I had about 10 hours of sleep in about a 72 hour period at one point. Needless to say I was a total zombie and wasn't very communicative with anyone! </div>
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Things have continued on that busy trend and there are some days where I'm mostly awake for over 24 hours. You know I'm a huge fan of sleep...so this has been quite a lesson for me, but a helpful one (learning how to be less of a brat on less sleep). I'm so lucky to have a team of people with me daily who tolerate my tired antics, lack of a filter, and hangry (tired and hungry) tendencies and know how to support me when I'm down. I think this is one huge benefit of living/eating/training/<wbr></wbr>breathing with the same group of people since day one. Although there is room for lots of drama...there is also room for understanding, support, and tolerance. We know each other...sometimes too well. The best example is my roommate and I...not only do we live together but we work on the same team. We live,eat, sleep, and work the same schedule...and usually spend a significant amount of our down time together. This could be a really bad deal if we didn't get along, thankfully we do and I am so blessed to have her.<br />
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As for daily life...the base is actually quite nice...for Afghan standards. We have beautiful barracks (I'm not being sarcastic here) that are rocket proof. The hospital is also rocket proof...which is a huge blessing. The strangest thing I miss however in terms of my surroundings is color...any color other than brown or grey. I miss trees...and flowers. The only scent blowing on the breeze is the one that comes from the pooh pond. I miss the ocean terribly...any body of none pooh infested water actually. It's easy to get lost here because every conex looks like the next...the cement walls that protect the buildings from rockets all look alike, except for the occasional graffiti that differentiates one from the other.</div>
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The food isn't awful..well it is...but I've become accustomed to it I think (I constantly say that my standards have dropped significantly in all areas of my life). We currently have 4 DFACs (dining facilities) to choose from...all serving roughly the same menu, with a slight difference between the Bristish one (the Cambridge, and my current favorite) and the Asian one (the Far East). There are lots of selections, but some I can't even pronounce, let alone recognize...breakfast is by far the best of all 3 meals here and I religiously attempt to make it to a DFAC in time for the full meal...otherwise I am stuck with midrats, which are a pared down version with only fake, powdered eggs and all the meals leftovers. We don't have a DFAC at the hospital so I've stocked up some food I had sent from home or friends have sent in my cubby to eat during my night shifts...that and candy sustain me!<br />
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The NATO gym is beautiful and close to our home. It's usually pretty busy but there are plenty of machines and I haven't yet had a problem getting onto a machine I want. I also found the spin classes there, you have so sign up super early (or have a good friend do it) because they are really popular...but it's allowed me to attempt to keep my bike fitness thousands of miles away from my beautiful bike and winding San Diego roads. Honestly though, my heart has gone the way of Crossfit and I've been a regular there since we arrived. I love the workouts and getting stronger, but I keep coming back for the people...an international group of friends here for many different reasons and jobs all coming together to suffer for an hour. Lately the number of Navy yellow has been increasing...they say we multiply like flies, I think they are correct.<br />
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<div>
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There isn't much to do here on a regular basis...you could hang out at the USO, the MWR, or the liberty center...or you can simply walk the boardwalk, and watch the people. The motly crew of contractors and troops from every corner of the globe is a feast for the eyes and ears. In one sentence you can hear French, Dutch, German, Afrikanns and Pashtu...or english with any flavor of accent you could dream of.<br />
<br />
Overall things are going well and time is flying. When we aren't working we are on call...so it's a constant thing here...we are tied to our pagers and you internally (or externally) curse whenever they go off...because unfortunately it's never good news. Everyone here also rotates through the duties of charge nurse and OOD (officer of the day...the civilian equivalent is the house supervisor). After this deployment I'll have plenty to add to a resume! I'm also going to be working in the trauma department starting in May. They added a fourth team and needed another nurse...and I'm so blessed to have the opportunity. I'm even more blessed to be able to be working with Warner again. We haven't been able to see each other much with our vastly different schedules, but now we will and it will be awesome. Our doc is Aussie so deciphering what he's saying will be a challenge, but a hilariously welcome one.<br />
<br />
I'm excited about being here...though I really miss home, it's a strange mixed emotion. But we are truly doing great work...creating miracles in the midst of chaos. I'm blessed to have a hand in it...especially during this pivotal time in the history of this country. I never knew what this would feel like and I believe that even I will struggle to put this experience into words as I go...but I'll try. For my own sake...so I don't forget the lessons I'm learning. Lessons more in humanity than medicine...in compassion and empathy. This place will change me, I know that now, in subtle and not so subtle ways...but all for the better I hope. I know if that isn't the case I'll have you to whip me back into shape when I return. Until then know I love you and miss you all so much...you all are always in my heart.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR3GfT3-Y3MHg8SdBBYTwkbWmOQBwjGdbV0sQrfqEaOsInq0JIZlpwlCSZ_8MuZK_-IWpW6yLhtZvRfZE_Dgylb7gybv7tbEBVu5itf7fyOnYrztQPUANymceiFlzm-O3XTNLotgwU14Dy/s1600/20140419_183102.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR3GfT3-Y3MHg8SdBBYTwkbWmOQBwjGdbV0sQrfqEaOsInq0JIZlpwlCSZ_8MuZK_-IWpW6yLhtZvRfZE_Dgylb7gybv7tbEBVu5itf7fyOnYrztQPUANymceiFlzm-O3XTNLotgwU14Dy/s1600/20140419_183102.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Afghan sunsets are still beautiful</td></tr>
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</div>
<div>
Love,</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
Me<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2qqts9b_TeN0CpCUaBdbxRyeOriTBAERuliWQXQjxoPK8FupPLWmfdj9zxJBgGXGBjUEU29P5YWlmq8mVS6i4G_Kq4XdIQliQf7S8cmNkojvCwWvZl_VQlL5OstA10b7H7ajgZ14goseK/s1600/20140419_183633.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2qqts9b_TeN0CpCUaBdbxRyeOriTBAERuliWQXQjxoPK8FupPLWmfdj9zxJBgGXGBjUEU29P5YWlmq8mVS6i4G_Kq4XdIQliQf7S8cmNkojvCwWvZl_VQlL5OstA10b7H7ajgZ14goseK/s1600/20140419_183633.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where all the magic happens</td></tr>
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</div>
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</div>
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Identity Undecidedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06549167483453229443noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1055293871901694183.post-56529730608542788002014-02-12T15:06:00.001-08:002014-02-12T15:06:40.643-08:00Tracking?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cold and hungry</td></tr>
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<br />
Mom,<br />
<br />
As we near the end of our pre deployment training and look towards our long months in the desert I can't help but reflect on the crazy experience this has been thus far. I don't think there is any way to truly capture it all in words, but I'm going to do my best with some help from my battle buddies!<br />
<br />
When we arrived at Camp McCrady (a small sub camp of Fort Jackson Army post) it was late at night. We were hungry, tired, and freaking cold. We had waited for hours at the airport in CA to catch the flight to SC. Needless to say we were all slightly crabby. We filed into a classroom where they thankfully had a hot meal waiting. Normally I would have been not too happy about the soggy veggies, powdered potatoes, and greasy meat... but on that night it honestly looked gourmet to me. We filled out paperwork and awaited our room assignments. We then had to drag our seabags to our hooches (one of the many interesting words that is used around here.... this one describes our barracks). In contrast to NEMTI where we had just come from this place was a huge upgrade. NEMTI was cots in a wooden sea hut, these were bunk beds in a normal building. Complete with lockers to store our gear and an attached bathroom that didn't require walking outside (I'm realizing on deployment it's the small things that make you happy). We proceeded to pass out and sleep quite well on our 2 thread count sheets and wooly green Army blankets.<br />
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The first week was plenty of classroom time. Most of us medical types started to get a little cabin fever... little did we know we should have appreciated the time spent sitting and relaxing, because things got a lot rougher! We were fitted for our vests and Kevlar helmets and given 2 huge seabags along with a large rucksack of gear. We had already been given one seabag in San Diego so now we had a total of 4-5 depending on how much personal gear you brought. We were told that we were only allowed to bring 3 seabags, the rucksack, and a carry on with us into country... yeah, you do that math, packing will be interesting considering moderation is not my strong suit.<br />
<br />
<br />
We were then issued our weapons. For the nurses we will always have a sidearm, but for the benefit of total weapons immersion and familiarization we were also given a rifle to carry. And by carry I mean never have more than arms length away from you. It reminded me of the flour baby I had to carry in middle school... you had to have it at all times and care for it like a child. Now my "child" was capable of deadly force... minor difference I guess. We also had to clear both weapons before entering any building. And clearing is not a one man job, you always had to have a battle buddy with you. Need to use the head (bathroom)? Bring your buddy cause you can't take your weapons in there... so your buddy stands outside like a husband holding his wives's purse. Want to go to chow? You better hope someone else is hungry cause those bad boys must come with you and be cleared prior to entering the DFAC (Army cafeteria). <br />
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Week two ushered in our new normal...hours upon hours spent at the range. Wake up before dawn, put over 40 pounds of gear on (along with layers upon layers of clothes to combat the inevitable cold), file onto a bus with your platoon, drive to the range, sit in the bleachers watching the sun come up and get ready to shoot your weapons all day. Sounds like fun until you know that a few lucky ones have been at the range since 0430 loading ammo for the day. Or that almost every range day happened to be cold and rainy (30-40 degrees usually). Lunch every day was an MRE (and I may never eat Skittles again). Firing positions normally would be fine... but pile all that gear on and the kneeling fighting position turns into me looking like an arthritic grandma trying to hobble my way to the ground. And don't you dare drop anything because a gaggle of Narmy sailders (Navy sailors trying to be Army) will just stare at it helplessly hoping someone else picks it up because bending over is a lesson in balance and strength with all that gear making you entirely too top heavy. <br />
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<br />
There were also days spent learning other important combat skills such as rollover drills for the vehicles, convoy tactics, base security, individual movement techniques... too many to tell... but I will say one of the most valuable lessons is my new vocabulary... I'll give you a quick lesson...<br />
<br />
First, there are many, many ways to say OK in the Army. They include but are not limited to hooah, er, yut, tracking, good to go, and ra. For example, "Place your weapon on safe and holster it before you leave, tracking?" The correct response to this... simply a return "tracking", said with motivation! So a conversation between us all sometimes is like cavemen communicating with sound... it's entertaining and entirely normal. Next there are the subtle differences between Army and Navy lingo. A bathroom is a latrine, not a head. We are living on post, not on base. And we shop at the PX, not the NEX. Then there are just the plain old interesting terms and phrases we've picked up:<br />
<br />
<strong>Police up the brass</strong> - pick up the shell casings on the range after shooting all day.<br />
<strong>Battle rattle</strong> - the full set of gear we must wear at all times including the vest, helmet, kneepads, elbow pads, goggles or ballistic sunglasses, and gloves.<br />
<strong>If you're walking you're wrong! - </strong>refers to the sense of urgency required when going anywhere.<br />
<strong>Treat everyone with respect but have a plan in mind to kill them</strong> - enough said.<br />
<strong>Shootas, sailas, killas</strong> - said before every time we would shoot on the range to get our attention.<br />
<strong>Brain bucket - </strong>helmet.<br />
<br />
There are so many more, but now you might be able to slightly understand what I'm saying. In all seriousness though these past few weeks have been some of the hardest I've ever experienced. There have been moments where I honestly questioned my place here... exhaustion will do that to a person and I didn't know tired until I could easily fall asleep on the cold rocky ground without a problem while others are shooting their weapons yards away. There were some nights that a shower was far too much effort (my hygiene gets relegated to baby wipes sometimes!). The food is definitely questionable, but by dinner you just appreciate a hot meal. The togetherness gets overwhelming at times, but you realize you have all your battle buddies suffering with you and it makes you feel slightly better. The drill sergeants are unrelenting in their quest for everything we do to be perfect, but they are some of the most motivating and inspiring people I've met in my life. <br />
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In the end, however, it's all been worth it. Sitting on the other side, looking back, it's one of the best experiences of my life. I'll never forget the lessons... some may save my life or the lives of my battle buddies. I'm more than ready to move on but so thankful I had this time to learn more about myself and my tolerance for embracing the suck that combat training can really be. I've gotten tougher, stronger, and live the motto of Semper Gumby (always flexible) everyday. I'm ready for what's ahead and thankful for what's behind. <br />
<br />
Hooah! <br />
<br />
Love,<br />
<br />
Me<br />
Identity Undecidedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06549167483453229443noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1055293871901694183.post-38152259717068448922014-01-19T19:04:00.000-08:002014-01-19T19:05:00.039-08:00One Day Closer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Mama,<br />
<br />
Well yesterday was the day...the beginning of the deployment. It's kind of like ripping off a band aid, it hurts so much in the moment, but then...once the initial sting wears off...you realize you will actually survive. And we will...all of us.<br />
<br />
Now we can countdown instead of counting up.<br />
<br />
Just so you understand the way this all works...there is quite a bit of training that has to be completed before we can step a boot on the Afghan sand. So I'll be playing Narmi (Navy personnel doing Army training) for a while until I actually arrive in theater. But honestly, it already has proven to be some of the best trauma training I've ever experienced. And after the theater specific medical component of our training we'll switch gears to combat training and become as familiar as possible with daily life in a war zone.<br />
<br />
I'm sure the thought of me in full "battle rattle" (all the combat gear we have to wear) isn't pleasant for you... but I will say I'm very blessed to have the opportunity to learn these possibly life saving skills.<br />
<br />
I also have to say a bit about the team I'm with. Here, at our first training stop, I live in a hut with 12 women. Some are mothers, some are wives... but we are all nurses. In this we have already formed a bond. We take the teamwork and "having each other's back" adage to heart and look out for one another, even this early in the game. We are all well aware that it's going to be a long, stressful deployment and we must watch out for our shipmates... always.<br />
<br />
The other nurses, doctors, and corpsman here with us are also wonderful. The biggest lesson through all the training is the stress on teamwork. We are to live and breath this daily. Through our teamwork, lives will be saved...a lack of it could cause deadly gaps in care. The instructors started this lesson off early with a drill on team building yesterday... let me tell you, a bunch of military members doing PT in a team environment is especially hilarious (all I'll say is 4 count everything).<br />
<br />
We have been warned that the next few weeks will be difficult physically...but our time in theater will be even harder, mentally and emotionally. Although I'm apprehensive, I'm excited. I'm ready for the challenge and entirely looking forward to the training ahead. I promise to keep you as updated as I possibly can despite the crazy training schedule. <br />
<br />
I love and miss you guys already.<br />
<br />
XOXO<br />
<br />
Me<br />
<br />
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<br />Identity Undecidedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06549167483453229443noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1055293871901694183.post-3960777537639100982013-12-06T09:14:00.001-08:002013-12-06T09:18:16.365-08:00The In BetweenMom,<br />
<br />
I'm not even sure how to explain this to you but I figured you might understand, so I'm going to try. I've got about a month left until I check in... until I can start counting DOWN the days to coming home instead of counting UP the days until I leave. Logistically I'm almost completely ready to go save a few little things. Mentally I'm as prepared as I think I'm going to be to do this. Emotionally... not quite there yet. I think I'm fine... and then a song will come on the radio and I'll start crying. Someone will ask me a question and I'll ponder it a bit too long because I've become lost in thought. The kids will suddenly look at me and say something profoundly sad... that's the worst of them all.<br />
<br />
The other night I went into Shanne's room to say goodnight to him... he sat up in bed, grabbed my face with both of his hands and said, "Mommy, please don't leave." What do you say to that? I didn't have words for that one, only a long hug as tears rolled silently down my face. <br />
<br />
But the most heart wrenching moment was shortly after I returned home from Alabama. Addy must have heard me talking about some of the stories I heard from the nurses and medics who have already been down range... the inherent dangers associated with flying MEDEVAC missions in country. I was in the kitchen when Addy came up to me with huge tears in her eyes. I asked her what was wrong and her response nearly knocked the wind out of me..."Mommy, I don't want you to die." Then she started crying. I held it together as I held her... but once she was settled down I went into my bathroom, sat on the floor, and sobbed.<br />
<br />
There is no easy button for this part, is there? No words to pacify the pain... no hug that will ever be tight enough to last 9 months... nothing to make up for the moments I'm going to miss. The most difficult part is how I feel. I'm ready to go... excited to go... looking forward to the challenge. But the flip side of that coin is that I have to leave you all. Leave my babies. It's such a strange place to be. <br />
<br />
After all my years on the home front side of deployment I can now say with certainty that it's harder to be the one leaving (especially as a mom). As the planner I not only feel responsible for making sure everything is ready to go at home... but I have to deal with the emotional fallout of leaving. I will never diminish the challenges we, as military wives, face when our spouse leaves for a deployment. But as the one at home you still have your version of normal everyday. You see your children, tuck them into bed at night, watch them grow and change. The one leaving doesn't get any of that. They get a strange place, a strange land, with people who will ultimately become a surrogate family (for that I am eternally grateful).<br />
<br />
So here we sit... one month to go... so much to look forward to between now and then. Embrace it all, right? Enjoy the time... but be ready for the pain. Here goes nothing.<br />
<br />
Love,<br />
<br />
Me<br />
<br />
XOXO<br />
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Identity Undecidedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06549167483453229443noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1055293871901694183.post-39498893075705052672013-09-26T11:09:00.001-07:002013-09-26T11:09:06.738-07:00Plan BDisclaimer: You may want to grab some Kleenex prior to this one...it took a few to write it. You've been warned...<br />
<br />
Mom,<br />
<br />
As I've sat here for hours and hours doing online classes reviewing every facet of the military's Plan B (i.e. what to do in the WORST case scenario when in theater), I've realized that the Navy also seems to believe in one of the biggest lessons you've instilled in me...if you have a Plan B then you probably won't ever have to use it...but failing to plan is planning to fail. <br />
<br />
Prior to this deployment I've been getting all the boxes checked on the "Must Do" list...update my will, make a family care plan, designate powers of attorney, update beneficiaries for all insurance policies, etc. But all this planning leaves out the most important aspects of my personal Plan B. What would I want you all to do if I were to not come home? How would I want my life remembered? What legacy would I want for my children?<br />
<br />
So here it is...my Plan B...may you have it so you never need it...<br />
<br />
I've written my just in case letters...so you should start by reading those...you know where they are. Read them to the kids...and then tuck them away. Don't dwell upon them. They are simply words, they are not me...and you won't find me there. Move on from them and begin to honor my life.<br />
<br />
I don't want a funeral, you know this. I do, however, want the whole military bit...I want a flag for you to place upon the mantel...I want guns saluting me (because really, military members in full dress uniform shooting rifles is an honor). I want bag pipes playing, complete with the men in kilts (what they wear or don't wear under their kilts is completely up to you...get down with your bad self mama). But I want to be cremated...and donate what you can of my organs, I don't need them anymore.<br />
<br />
I want a celebration...preferably on the beach. A full blown party! Invite everyone...and have it during the middle of the week so they all have an excuse to have a day off. Make it in the afternoon so no one has to get up early either. Also, no black...in fact everyone should wear purple (it is my favorite color and I'll love watching all the men rocking some purple). No flowers...I've never really liked them anyway...they die and no one needs reminders of death. Instead plaster pictures everywhere. All my favorites from the best moments of my life. Light candles everywhere...I love them. Have a book out that people can write down their favorite (appropriate) memories of me for my children to read someday. There must be music...country of course, even though you don't like it much (it's my party, suck it up buttercup). And of course there has to be plenty of food. Make sure there are all the gluten laden options that I always wish I could eat but never can...cause trust me I'll be eating them all in Heaven!<br />
<br />
As for my ashes...I don't want them spread in one place. Because I've never been a girl to stay in one place for very long now have I? Instead I want you and Mike to take a trip with the kids...to places that I've loved...to places that will help solidify their memories of me. <br />
<br />
Start at home...in the Bay Area. Tell them the stories of me as a little girl...you should probably also make a stop at Monterey with dad and let them see the squirrels that made such a lasting memory for me (I think I was younger then Addy at the time and still remember that trip). Take them back to Bodega Bay...buy salt water taffy...let them eat it till their tummies hurt. Take them into the city...take the ferry there...walk along Fisherman's Wharf...feed the Sealions...let them eat junk. Bring everyone...Dad, Kasso, Grandpa and gang, Danny, Devin...everyone...wrap those kids in love (and probably warm jackets too since the city is never warm).<br />
<br />
From there the stops are in no particular order or precedence...but these are the places I want you to take me on my final journey...<br />
<br />
Florida...show them Miami and South Beach...I grew up there in so many ways and I'll always have fond...though slightly blurry...memories of it. You can tell them the stories of my time there...I'll forgive you (though Mike can leave some of those stories until they are older!). Take them to Key West...the place where I started my journey as their mom. You and Mike can take them again to the beach where we got married...bring the wedding photos along. Bring them down Duval street and to the Southernmost Point...I know they've been there before but I want them to see it with my eyes this time. The eyes of a young girl just beginning her life...with all the hopes and dreams of the two of them to keep me going. Watch a sunset with them from the pier...and leave a memory of me there. That place will always have a piece of my soul.<br />
<br />
Rhode Island...the place where I became a Naval officer. Though none of you were with me...this place shaped me in so many ways. Take them in the summer though so they can enjoy the beauty that I couldn't see through the snow. Remind them of the pride I felt as I realized what donning that uniform meant. Take them to eat seafood in downtown Newport...walk the streets that I walked. Roam the base if you can...I'll never forget that place. Have them stand at attention in the morning while the flag is raised and the national anthem played...may they never forget the country and the ideals their mother died to protect.<br />
<br />
Washington D.C....I have so many fond memories of this place. Take them to every monument and museum you took me. Bring them on the 4th of July...sit them on the steps of the capital to watch the fireworks...tell them the story of our night there. I'll never forget that night...I hope they don't either.<br />
<br />
The Grand Canyon...take them on a cruise down the Hoover Dam and tour the Grand Canyon with them (avoid the airplane ride this time!). Hike with them there as that is still something I've yet to do and want to. Maybe even camp...or hole up in a little B&B for a night or two. Soak in the views, take lots of pictures...leave a memory for me.<br />
<br />
Hawaii...take them back to the big island. Walk down All'i drive with them again...tell stories from our trip. Buy them a shell necklace...spread plumeria flowers into the ocean for me. Teach them to surf (or get lessons)...ride those waves for me. Stay somewhere different this time...on the water. Listen to the waves at night and know that I'm there. A piece of me will always be there...tell them that anytime they want to be close to me they can find solace in that island and find me.<br />
<br />
Cruise...set sail with them on the same cruise we took...walk up Dunns River Falls with them in Jamaica (since I couldn't go)...walk the beaches of Mexico...swim with the stingrays in Grand Cayman...eat up at the buffets. Tell them all our stories...but don't forget to sit on the balcony with them every, single morning and drink coffee/hot chocolate and eat breakfast with them. Look out upon the ocean and know that I am there...watching...smiling...loving them from above.<br />
<br />
San Diego...there will always be memories of me here. Here is where I became a nurse...a mommy to Addy...an officer...an adult. I grew up here in many senses of the word. Take them to La Jolla cove...swim with them out into the center...tell them not to be afraid of what's under the water...never be afraid of what you can't see...have faith. I'll be there. <br />
<br />
Ask them where they want to go...what adventures shall we have? Take them...walk with them...listen to them...be a kid with them (don't let this force them out of childhood). Allow them to cry...to remember...to grieve.<br />
<br />
And then help them move on (and help yourself move on too). Though I never, ever want them to forget me...I don't want my death to be a stopping point in all your lives. Know that I died doing something I believed in. You instilled in me a huge sense of patriotism and pride in this country...I'm heading over there knowing the risks and ready to embrace the challenge anyway. <br />
<br />
My love for them will go far beyond my life...no matter when it ends. They are the two single best accomplishments in my world. May they grow up knowing how wanted they were and how loved they always will be...from this earth or the other side of Heaven.<br />
<br />
I guess that about covers it. The little details you know. These are the things I felt important enough to put into writing. I hope you all find a way to move on someday...life goes on...it's too short to dwell on this. Live your lives for me now...do things I wanted to do...go places I wanted to go (please, please take them to Paris and Rome for me!). Live each moment, each day fully...with eyes and arms wide open...<br />
<br />
I love you all so much.<br />
<br />
Love,<br />
<br />
Me<br />
<br />
P.S. Now that you have this, may you never need it...that's what my Plan B is for...if you have it, you won't need it.<br />
<br />Identity Undecidedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06549167483453229443noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1055293871901694183.post-43642834280859182222013-09-21T15:37:00.000-07:002013-09-21T15:37:00.986-07:00D.U.S.T.O.F.F.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Mom,<br />
<br />
Although it was hard to spend any time away from you all and the kids prior to deployment, I can't even begin to describe how grateful I am for the opportunity I was given.<br />
<br />
Two months ago when I got the phone call that I was selected for the Joint En Route Care Course in Fort Rucker, AL with the United States Army School of Aviation Medicine I was floored. Only four individuals from the upcoming Navy deployment rotation were selected for this collateral duty....and I was one of them.<br />
<br />
The course was to train medical providers to transport critically ill patients aboard helicopters...both to transfer between facilities in country or possibly from point of injury to the hospital. This is a joint venture between the Army (they run the rotary wing aviation gig in theater) and the other branches who provide medical care. It helped all of us (officers, enlisted, flight medics, nurses, and doctors) learn to communicate and work together in a way to best help those we are trying to save.<br />
<br />
I learned more then I can ever put into writing...but many of the lessons had nothing to do with medicine and more to do with the things I'm about to face for the next year of my life. With new knowledge comes fear...but it allows me to better prepare mentally for the challenges ahead.<br />
<br />
Enough of the scary stuff...onto the fun. First off I was able to meet my team...the three other people I'll be working alongside in this venture for the duration of the deployment...I may be biased but they are kinda awesome.<br />
<br />
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The boys look so serious...it's all a facade</div>
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Most importantly I was able to connect with another woman...a mom...a wife...someone who understands exactly what I'm going through right this moment and who will be going through it alongside me the entire time. Meeting Christine is probably one of the biggest reasons I was supposed to be there (pretty sure she'll kill me for saying that...OMH Chris).<br />
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I think I spent nearly every day in Alabama pinching myself for the opportunity I had been given...from water survival training...to old fashioned survival training...to a ride in a CH-47 Chinook (and placing IV's while flying)...every day was an adventure. I learned so much about aviation physiology (topped off with some personal time in the hypobaric chamber...I can last 2:38 sec at 25,000 ft without supplemental oxygen before I feel like death). I learned more about the difference between hospital medicine and battlefield medicine...it's going to be some undoing of hospital habits and the type A ICU personality I've developed in order to thrive in the fast paced environment I'm about to live in. But most importantly I gained a huge respect for every other service man and woman who is part of a MEDEVAC team.<br />
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The SWET (shallow water egress trainer) chair</div>
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They strap you in and flip you over...you gotta get out on your own...</div>
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Yeah, we built that shelter and that fire...maybe not the best but it does the job</div>
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Our ride for the day</div>
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Placing an IV while flying...no biggie</div>
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Working a simulation with my amazing medic partner (no, my patient didn't die)</div>
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I also learned that the call sign DUSTOFF assigned to the MEDEVAC units has a huge meaning...Dedicated Unhesitating Service To Our Fighting Forces. Awesome, huh? Makes me wanna step up my game even more...be the best to serve the best. <br />
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Overall one of the most amazing and humbling experiences of my life. With 3 months to go until D day I'm home and ready to complete final preparations before leaving...the reality is starting to hit. I'm leaving. For a long, long, time. But until then I'm going to enjoy it all. Every. Single. Moment.<br />
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Thank you for your endless love and support. I couldn't do it without you. I love you.<br />
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Love,<br />
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Me<br />
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We Passed!!</div>
<br />Identity Undecidedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06549167483453229443noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1055293871901694183.post-13669820581746266952013-07-29T11:34:00.000-07:002013-07-29T11:34:41.726-07:00Hypothesis ProvenSo it's been two days since my second crack at Barb's Race half ironman. My second chance, my second go, my second time racing in the beautiful place I call home. But this time I got here in an incredibly different way and the results were better then I imagined. <br />
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If you didn't know this already my training going into this race was a complete experiment. Reading through my race <a href="http://identityundecided.blogspot.com/2010/08/finding-my-limitsbarbs-race-2010.html" target="_blank">repor</a>t from my last go around it was clear to me even in retrospect that after that race I was burned out...severely. I gave up the sport of triathlon entirely for over a year and then only raced short course for the next two years. I vowed to find a way for that not to happen this time around. So the experiment began...<br />
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First I had to examine what went wrong last time. I had a great coach, great friends, and the will to work hard...but I didn't have the time. I tried to pack traditional long course training into a very non-traditional schedule. I was a full time night shift nurse, I had two small children, I had a husband who needed me, I had a home that needed time/effort, I had friends that valued my time...basically I was busy and my schedulewas abnormal to say the least. It just didn't work. I was trying to fit in workouts in between 12 hour night shifts that were just too long or I'd try to move them around to fit better...but with one kid still at home (Addison was only 3) it was impossible to fit all the training into my schedule so I'd end up feeling depressed and defeated by something that others managed to make look easy. And again, my coach was amazing, but unfortunately if you don't live the married with kids and a crazy night shift job life...you don't entirely understand the demands of it. <br />
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This time around I still have a full time night shift nursing job...I also managed to add in a job as a Naval Reserve Nurse Corps officer...and one as a contract flight nurse. I have two children who thankfully are no longer small and both in school. I have a husband who still needs my time. A house that still needs work (though we did hire a gardener!). And I still have friends who value me and my time with them. My demands had actually increased...so how do you figure that out??<br />
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You hire your USAT certified mom to be your coach. She also happens to live with you and knows the details of your schedule and it's unique challenges better then anyone. You hatch a plan to increase the overall quality of the training and decrease the quantity. No more crazy long training days...more really, really hard sets on the track, in the pool, and on the trainer. Double days to maximize time and a whole lot of..."Hey, let's just run with this and see what happens!"<br />
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The numbers in training looked good. I was also playing around with my diet and adopting a more paleo diet based upon the book by The <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Paleo-Diet-Athletes-Nutritional/dp/B003GAMZY0/ref=sr_1_2/183-3793937-2698651?ie=UTF8&qid=1375118261&sr=8-2&keywords=the+paleo+diet+for+athletes" target="_blank">Paleo</a> Diet for Athletes by Loren Cordain and Joe Friel. It was changing everything...I was dropping inches (not a pound at all!), feeling better, getting faster, and my long term GI issues were resolving as well. <br />
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We were happy...but it remained to be seen how this would hold up on the long course. The truth was leading into the race that I had yet to complete a workout over 4 hours. In over a year. Seriously. So I honestly wasn't sure if at some point past 4 hours the proverbial wheels wouldn't just fall off and leave me feeling completely flat...but it was time to find out.<br />
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We traveled up north on the Tuesday prior to the race and I checked into hotel de Dad (aka my dad and step mom's house with my kiddos). Mike wasn't able to make it up this year as we had just returned from a vacation to see his family in Tennessee and he was out of vacation days. <br />
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The days leading up the race were filled with family, rest, food, and small/short bits of last minute keeping it loose training. I felt relaxed, calm, and happy. I had made it to the start line without burnout or injury. I still loved the sport and was actually getting excited to race.<br />
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Race morning arrived and I woke feeling rested and ready. I had an 8:36 wave start but still wanted to get there early to get good parking. I ate 2 slices of dry GF toast (according to the Paleo diet for athletes you do add carbs back in during the time surrounding longer races/training days), and 2 eggs washed down with the Clif Shot powder in water. I grabbed a banana and Clif Shot gel for later and a cup of coffee for the road. I had taken my pre race Immodium (if you are an endurance athlete you get this) as well as some Claritin as my allergies were kicking my butt! I woke up my Sherpa-in-training (my little brother, Danny), and we headed out. <br />
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In a stroke of complete luck we found a parking spot directly across the street from the swim start as someone pulled out of the space in front of us (hello good omen!). I borrowed a bike pump from a fellow athlete as mine wasn't working and pumped my tires a bit under the recommended pressure since I knew the roads were less then smooth on this course. We then made our way down to the beach and I quickly set up my transition area...nothing fancy there. I showed Danny around and he bodymarked me and helped with my sunscreen as I ate the banana. We watched as the Vineman athletes went off and slowly filtered in. Then it was time for me to warm up and eat my Clif Shot...a quick run followed by a swim and I was ready. I said goodbye to my brother and entered the corral with my wave (the last wave of Barb's race athletes).<br />
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<img alt="" aria-busy="false" aria-describedby="fbPhotosSnowliftCaption" class="spotlight" height="612" src="https://sphotos-a-pao.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/1004810_10151504122122307_1737785000_n.jpg" style="height: 564px; width: 564px;" width="612" /><br />
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The Swim (33:32, 1:36/100 yds, 7th in my division):<br />
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The water was comfortable, I positioned myself at the front towards the left side, and I took off with a vengeance when the horn went off. I fought to stay with the leaders until we were a solid distance away from the main field. I felt awesome. The only hitch in the swim was the fact that no matter what, if you are a fast swimmer you inevitably end up swimming through other waves. And here, in the river, those swimmers turn into walkers...suddenly and without warning. So I spent plenty of energy dodging swimmers and walkers and sighting to see where the next human obstacle was. But no matter, I finished in a time that was comparable to my training and was a 3 minute PR over last time. I ran up the ramp, had my wetsuit stripped, and threw my bag of gear to my waiting Sherpa (did I mention yet how awesome he was?!). I transitioned and didn't even attempt to mount my bike at the bottom of the hill...I just ran up and mounted at the top (lesson learned from last year!).<br />
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The Bike: (3:11:36, 18.0 mph/avg 1st half, 17.5 mph/avg 2nd half, 10th in my division):<br />
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The bike has always been my Achilles heel...I've never been the biggest fan. After a stellar fit by <a href="http://swimmerint1.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Rachel</a> and the team at <a href="http://momentcyclesport.com/" target="_blank">Moment</a> Cycle Sport I felt ready to tackle the bike this time around stronger and more comfortable. Well I WAS stronger and more comfortable...but unfortunately my bike time was 2 minutes slower then last time. At first I was pretty discouraged by this as my goal was to do 2:45. But looking at the race times, only 4 women in the entire field went even near that time and only 17 went sub 3 hours. It was a windy day out there...and I don't know what else...but I felt great nonetheless and know I gave it my all. I chowed down on half a <a href="http://www.pocketfuelnaturals.com/" target="_blank">PocketFuel</a> chocolate espresso, a handful of custom paleo coconut lemon cream <a href="http://www.cottercrunch.com/order-healthy-bites/" target="_blank">Healthy</a> Bites, and a pack of Honey Stinger chews. I drank water and Clif Shot lemonade. I took half a banana from one aide station but that was it. I knew I had made the mistake previously of over eating and I wasn't going to do that this time around. I played leap frog with a few racers but wisely minded my USAT P's and Q's as I knew marshalls were out on the course and didn't want a penalty hanging over me on this draft happy course. I came into transition feel strong and actually excited to run.<br />
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Run: (1:52:01, approx. 8:30 min/mile avg, 3rd in my division):<br />
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I unfortunately had to visit the port-a-potty pre run as I didn't think running with a full bladder was going to benefit me in any way. Luckily it was a quick stop and I was off. I knew in training on flatter, coastal (read: cooler) roads I could average nearer to an 8:00 min/mile for the distance. I wanted to break my half marathon PR of 1:49 but I had set that on a flatter course as a stand alone race (not after a swim and bike)...so I was just ready to roll with the miles and give it my best. I was thirsty and hot out there in the hills with minimal breezes...so I tried to grab ice when I could and would grab a sip of water at every other aide station. I also grabbed a few cups of flat Coke and took my first Honey Stinger gel at mile 1 and my second at mile 6. It was funny because I felt like I was running slower but I would glance at my watch and see that I was indeed running under 8:30's unless I was heading up a hill. I passed people often and got a lot of comments about how strong I looked...unfortunately responding was not currently in my grasp so I tried to smile when I could. I didn't really hit any kind of wall until a bit after mile 10...I wanted to lay down and I wanted a tall glass of ice water. That's all I wanted. But I knew my family was at the finish and I knew I was doing well...so I sucked it up...said a few words to myself...and kept on trucking. <br />
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Coming into that finish line was beautiful. I could see my dad, brothers, kids and my brother's girlfriend. They had the Barb's Race tape up across the line so I actually got to feel like a rockstar and hold it up for a brief moment. I was quite shaky and wobbly after crossing but so, so happy to be finished and still be happy about the whole experience. I got my medal and beelined for my family. Over the next few minutes I found out I had taken 4th in my division. I had set many goals for myself and one of them was to come in the top 5...mission accomplished...total time 5:43:43 and 4th out of what looks to be 60 women who completed the race in my division. It was also a 16 minute PR on this course for me. But more importantly I completed it happily...with plans in my head to race this distance and longer again. <br />
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Hypothesis proven. You can race this distance on less then the "normal" training volume and still reach goals and do well. Did I win? No. Did I learn many lessons? Absolutely. I know I need more time on my bike...and more time in aero. I need to brick a bit more. But otherwise I'm beyond happy with the results.<br />
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I have so many people to thank now...but overall just a huge thank you to everyone who has supported me, prayed for me, encouraged me, and been there for me. A huge thanks to my family....without their love and support I would never be able to do this sport that I so love. And the biggest thanks of all to my Coach Mom...thanks for believing in me when I don't believe in myself. For your willingness to try something new...for your adaptability...for knowing me so darn well...for keeping me sane...for loving me through it all. I look forward to our next adventure and experiment. <br />
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As I head into ultra marathon training now and then a large triathlon break due to deployment I'm already excited about the years to come. I have so many goals and a renewed love for this sport that constantly pushes me to find my limits and push right past them...<br />
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Thank you all...<br />
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XOXO<br />
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JackieIdentity Undecidedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06549167483453229443noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1055293871901694183.post-9843617662955991282013-06-20T11:54:00.001-07:002013-06-20T11:54:26.673-07:00Slightly Left of Level<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Please excuse me while I push the pause button on my life...</div>
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There has a disruption to the level balance of my world. While I'm aware I live my life in a way that most would never call balanced...or level if you will...to me I keep all the crazy in check and thrive despite 3 jobs, 2 kids, crazy athletics, and whatever else I take on. But this...this throws it all out of whack...life less level...perhaps slightly to the left of level (because to be to the right of level might be ok). </div>
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I always expected these things to start with a phone call...but no, this began with an email:</div>
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MEMBER TAGGED FOR MOBILIZATION</div>
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And so it begins...</div>
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I'm being mobilized (deployed) to Afghanistan. Kandahar. To the Role III Multinational Hospital as a critical care nurse. I'm scheduled to leave in January and hopefully return by September. </div>
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So my life, as I know it, will be on pause. </div>
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In order to track this crazy journey I know I need to write...to remember, to vent, to process...but simply writing with no intent isn't going to capture the true essence, fear, adventure, drama, and dance of life at war. So, at the suggestion of a brilliant friend, I'll be writing letters...addressed to my mom...one of the few people on earth I can be brutally, blatantly honest with. To chronicle the good, bad, and extremely awful bits of life in a combat zone...</div>
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My mother is my rock. She was a single mom and probably because of this she has always been more friend and confidant then mother (unless she needed to be mom...and then trust me...she is and was). She also lives with us full time...which is one of the reasons I KNOW my children will be alright in my absence...but that's another topic...</div>
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So here's to life slightly to the left of level...struggling to find the balance...and waiting until I can have THIS moment...</div>
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Dear Mom,</div>
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I'm not really sure where to start. I know that we've talked about this day. Knew it would happen even. But when that email came I went blank. </div>
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I was sitting next to the campfire...trying really hard not to let the bottom of my sandals melt as I placed them on the metal fire pit, childishly trying to claim as much warmth as possible from the flames. My phone vibrated slightly in my pocket...there, written in bold letters was the email title </div>
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MEMBER TAGGED FOR MOBILIZATION.</div>
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I'm not sure I read the words but rather absorbed them...you were my first phone call...you were so calm. Thank you for that...always calm in my storm.</div>
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Telling Mike was difficult...he shrugged and moved on...I don't think he has confronted the reality yet...that I'M the one leaving, not him.</div>
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When I told Bex and Alli they both had similar reactions...silence. And then a series of deep breathes. I knew how they felt...because I had to do the same. Just breathe...deep...breathe it in and let it all out. There is nothing to be done to change it so I might as well embrace it. Embrace the suck, right?</div>
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I called Dad too...later...asked him first if he was sitting down, he was. I got an almost identical reaction from him. I think that in the silence there is so much communication. "I'm worried, I'm scared, that's so long, how will you do this, how will I do this?..." Silence speaks volumes.</div>
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So here we are, a bit over 200 days until I check in. About that many days left of my "normal" life. There is so much to do and I don't even know where to start. I know, from being on the homefront side of these things, that life goes on...I don't worry about you guys in that way. I know my kids are strong...they will get through it and thrive (they are my offspring afterall). But does life go on for me? Do I get stuck in a proverbial groundhog day? Do I change? Do I grow?</div>
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I'm sure I'm bound for change. I don't think you can spend that much time exposed to war and NOT change. But will I change for the better...or collapse into a shell of who I was...</div>
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I'm scared. I can't even lie. I've never been in a situation where my own safety and security were seriously at risk. And now I'll be living that reality day in and day out...for months</div>
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But you know what? I'm excited too. I have never shied from an experience...life is all about the experience, the journey. My path has always been full of adventure and I guess this is just another one to talk about down the road, when I'm safely home again with my babies in my arms. I know I will experience things I will never have the chance to again in life...and for that I'm excited...and ready. As ready as I'm going to be.</div>
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And I'm proud...beyond proud. I have a chance to use my hard earned nursing skills to heal our injured. To create change in the lives of young Marines that have placed themselves on that huge altar of freedom in the names of us all. I get to DO something, BE something...be the proud American you raised me to be. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
Until then let's live the rest of this time...enjoy...no fast forward before the long pause....</div>
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</div>
<div dir="ltr">
I love you.</div>
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</div>
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Love,</div>
<div dir="ltr">
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
Me</div>
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XOXO</div>
Identity Undecidedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06549167483453229443noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1055293871901694183.post-49532130443401321682013-06-12T16:10:00.001-07:002013-06-12T16:10:12.173-07:00Dream a little dream (or a big one)When you have big dreams, what is required to reach them?<br />
<br />
I know this is a very personal question in that each person's answer would be slightly different...depending on the person...depending on the dream.<br />
<br />
I have many dreams...<br />
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<br />
<br />
Trust me...some of them are scary.<br />
<br />
I feel the need to put them out there...to share...so that you, my friends and family, can hold me accountable. Now these are currently only my athletically minded type dreams...there are many others, but that's fodder for another day and another post. So here we go...<br />
<br />
- To place top ten in my age group at Barb's Race this July (half ironman race)<br />
- If I'm dreaming a bit bigger I'll say top 5<br />
- If I'm going all out and dreaming I'll say I want to stand on that podium...<br />
- To run a PR half marathon on the end of that race (my half marathon current PR is 1:49)<br />
- To run a sub 6 min/mile by the end of the year (PR is currently 6:19)<br />
- To get a score of Outstanding on my October PRT for the Navy (currently at Excellent)<br />
- To be able to do 10 unassisted pull ups in a row (not actually sure how many I can do now)<br />
- To finish a 50K ultramarathon in October<br />
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<br />
I think that about covers most of it.<br />
<br />
So what will it take for ME to get there?<br />
<br />
Hard work, perseverance, patience, dedication, determination...and whole lot of time spent suffering. Thankfully I don't mind the suffering if it's for a good cause. In fact, it's what I've been doing lately...<br />
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<br />
That's about it for today...time to head out to track and chip away at those goals...<br />
<br />
What are your goals? How do you plan to reach them? Do they scare you?....<br />
<br />
Jackie <br />
<br />
XOXO<br />
<br />
<br />
Identity Undecidedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06549167483453229443noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1055293871901694183.post-39847768522750869282013-05-23T17:05:00.001-07:002013-05-23T17:05:45.278-07:00Whole 30...the Verdict<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
I think that may be all I need to say...my abs haven't looked like this since before I had kids...and after 30 days doing the <a href="http://www.identityundecided.blogspot.com/2013/04/whole30challenge.html" target="_blank">Whole 30</a> plan they do. Nuff said.<br />
<br />
Ok, ok...I'll give you more insight then that. But really...I'm shocked by how amazing I feel. Oh...and a little more info...I didn't lose a single pound. Seriously. Started the challenge at 135 lbs...ended the same weight. Clearly I'm at the perfect weight for me.<br />
<br />
But honestly I never started this for the weight loss benefits or the ab enhancing powers (though that's a bonus). I started it to try and cure my multiple GI issues and to #feedthemachine that I have to become when training hardcore for a big triathlon (half ironman #2 on July 27, 2014). Did I get the results I was after? ABSOLUTELY!<br />
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I have more energy, I am more clear headed, GI distress if virtually gone, skin is clearer, clothes fit better, I sleep more soundly, I recover really fast, soreness from training doesn't last, I'm able to push harder and longer during training then I ever was, I don't have cravings, and I get to eat like a teenage boy without caring about calories at all! <br />
<br />
So there you go...my results in a nutshell...but to give you some more love I'll even throw in some pics of the food I've been living on (but you can follow all of them on my Instagram at identityundecided). And for those who ask I either make up my recipes entirely (sorry not helpful I know), get them off Pinterest (find me and follow my boards labeled Whole 30 or Cavegirl Eats and Treats), or I get the ideas from the multiple books I've bought including "It Starts with Food", "Everyday Paleo Family Cookbook", "Practical Paleo", and "Well Fed".<br />
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<br />
Needless to say I'm staying paleo...there is no question right now that this way of eating agrees with me...and with the crazy training coach mom (literally my mom is my coach...she is USAT certified and clearly knows me better then anyone) has thrown at me now it's the only way to fuel what I'm asking of my body everyday. I'm healthy, I'm happy, and I'm ready to crush this race in July. I have some big goals, big dreams, and since I've been there before I know exactly what to expect and what times I have to beat...it's go time.<br />
<br />
So that's all for now...it's dinnertime and I'm hungry (chicken curry in the crock pot is on the menu for tonight and I think I'm salivating from the smell in this house!). Follow me to see what I cook up next or to see how I do at Barb's Race...until then...<br />
<br />
XOXO<br />
<br />
Jackie<br />
<br />Identity Undecidedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06549167483453229443noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1055293871901694183.post-63884208070398121562013-04-18T12:33:00.000-07:002013-04-18T12:33:40.655-07:00#whole30challenge<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" aria-busy="false" aria-describedby="fbPhotosSnowliftCaption" class="spotlight" height="320" src="https://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/164612_10151348156177307_3069366_n.jpg" style="height: 612px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; width: 612px;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Prosciutto egg cups with veggies and guac...sweet potato with ghee</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
If you follow me on Instagram or Facebook you know I've started a new food adventure called the Whole 30 Challenge (check it out <a href="http://www.whole9life.com/" target="_blank">here</a> and maybe you'll join in). I originally heard about it from my friend <a href="http://cavegirltris.com/" target="_blank">Carrie</a> who embarked on her own Whole 30 journey recently. I was so inspired by her results that I did my homework, read the book, and set a start day for the day after I returned from my field training (more about that in a minute). <br />
<br />
Some may be wondering why I've strayed from my vegan adventures into a clearly Paleo way of eating...the answer is simple. I went vegan as an experiment...could I improve my numbers (blood counts, lipids, etc) with diet alone. I did. Everything looked better one year later. Now I'm experimenting again...can I have the same numbers or maybe even better ones while following a Paleo diet? I'm using my body as the ultimate guinea pig...plus there is another aspect. For years I've struggled with horrible IBS and general GI issues. I've been poked, prodded, and scoped with only minimal answers and prescriptions I refuse to take. Gluten free eating has thus far been the BEST thing I've done for my body...but I still suffer on a daily basis. Even while strictly vegan I was still miserable quite often. The Whole 30 diet, however, makes some pretty great claims in regards to helping with inflammatory GI issues (essentially IBS is a problem of inflammation with no known cause). So there we are...a new culinary adventure...and hopefully a cure to what ails me...we shall see.<br />
<br />
So there is the background...now back to the fun. I'm on Day 4 now and I'm feeling awesome! I have yet to experience the "hangover" that they claim may occur. I'm attributing that mostly to the fact that I don't eat that horribly anyway...but we'll see...my hangover may be coming. Yesterday I hit up my fav indulgence Whole Paycheck (aka Whole Foods Market). <br />
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<img alt="" aria-busy="false" aria-describedby="fbPhotosSnowliftCaption" class="spotlight" height="612" src="https://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/15168_10151347266362307_1153064898_n.jpg" style="height: 612px; width: 612px;" width="612" /><br />
<br />
I coordinated myself as well as I could considering I was status post noc shift...and spent way too much money on beautiful veggies, fruits, and fresh meats (I actually bought from the deli and butcher counters and I NEVER do that!). I then caught a quick nap and woke to start some serious cooking (which I will be continuing today). I started with Paleo chili...followed up with roasting some yams, beets, and brussel sprouts. I made some prosciutto cups as well for quick breakfasts (see cover picture).<br />
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<img alt="" aria-busy="false" aria-describedby="fbPhotosSnowliftCaption" class="spotlight" src="https://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/544271_10151347344452307_382093423_n.jpg" style="height: 612px; width: 612px;" /><br />
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Today will be grilling chicken, boiling eggs, pulled pork, thai beef stew, and fajitas...all before work tonight. But hey, the rest of my week will be so much easier!!<br />
<br />
As for the above mentioned time in the field, I spent the last time up at Camp Pendleton at the Naval Expeditionary Medical Training Institute (NEMTI) at an exercise called Coiled Viper. I spent the week learning field medicine skills with other nurses, doctors, and corpsman. I skipped the Trauma Nurse Core Course (since mine certification is current) and opted to take the Tactical Combat Casualty Course with the corpsman. It's not required for officer's but I'm so glad I took it...it was entertaining and I learned so much as well as getting to teach some clinical skills. I also let someone put a nasal airway in me as well as a few IV's...took one for the team I guess! Anyway, the pics say it all...I had a blast and truly love my other job as a Navy Reserve RN. <br />
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<img alt="" class="spotlight" height="206" src="https://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/p206x206/536140_10151330961597307_888967220_n.jpg" style="height: 612px; width: 612px;" width="206" /><br />
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<img alt="" aria-busy="false" aria-describedby="fbPhotosSnowliftCaption" class="spotlight" height="612" src="https://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/524179_10151336887242307_635429564_n.jpg" style="height: 612px; width: 612px;" width="612" /><br />
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<img alt="" aria-busy="false" aria-describedby="fbPhotosSnowliftCaption" class="spotlight" height="612" src="https://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/483291_10151337637717307_1282570834_n.jpg" style="height: 612px; width: 612px;" width="612" /><br />
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<img alt="" aria-busy="false" aria-describedby="fbPhotosSnowliftCaption" class="spotlight" height="612" src="https://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-frc1/59212_10151338060722307_1432783983_n.jpg" style="height: 612px; width: 612px;" width="612" /><br />
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<img alt="" aria-busy="false" aria-describedby="fbPhotosSnowliftCaption" class="spotlight" height="612" src="https://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/10069_10151341252157307_1856940218_n.jpg" style="height: 612px; width: 612px;" width="612" /><br />
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<img alt="" aria-busy="false" aria-describedby="fbPhotosSnowliftCaption" class="spotlight" height="612" src="https://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/17770_10151342589417307_1262537689_n.jpg" style="height: 612px; width: 612px;" width="612" /><br />
<br />
Until later...time to nap.<br />
<br />
XOXO<br />
<br />
JackieIdentity Undecidedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06549167483453229443noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1055293871901694183.post-66805211768476657392013-04-08T18:50:00.001-07:002013-04-09T22:30:40.330-07:00Not Enough Words<p dir=ltr>This is a short and sweet post this evening as I'm in the middle of a training evolution called Coiled Viper. I'm at a camp in the middle of a Marine base surrounded by nurses, doctors, dentists, and corpsman. All reservists.  All people who, like me, signed on the dotted line and committed their life to this beautiful country.  But they...like me...also have full civilian careers and lives..and yet are all willing...and volunteering to drop it all in a moment to serve.  Let's just say these are really good people...</p>
<p dir=ltr>I lay here now in a cot in a room full of 13 other junior officer women...room is a nice word...it's a wooden hut really...but it became home. I've realized with the military it all becomes home quickly.  You make friends quickly and you trust each other quickly.  Each other is all you have really.</p>
<p dir=ltr>The other realization I had today was as I was sitting at the chow hall (aka the military's cafeteria) looking around at all the baby Marines (we are in a section of the base where they are all male and I swear all 18 but look 12)...I realized that these young men who have committed to lay down their life for this country..for you...for me...these are the very Marines I am being trained to treat. These are the ones...should I be mobilized to Afghanistan as many of my classmates are...that will be in my care...in my ICU ward.  It was a humbling moment...they are training to protect me...I'm training to save them...quite the paradox really.</p>
<p dir=ltr>So that's it really...training gives you time to think...and currently I'm thinking I couldn't be prouder to have made the decision to be a Navy Reserve Nurse Corps officer...and I'm also thinking I need to head to bed...early mornings around here!</p>
<p dir=ltr>XOXO</p>
<p dir=ltr>Jackie</p>
<div class='separator' style='clear: both; text-align: center;'> <a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT_jTveOGHXWp4wWuTvWxxiL3xVAjFJndaLyKWeKhgzmv3ypHvZebEuRvdm7xrqZEvP_9f0vRVm0PZhaivNngQHF1NzGeuL0h38nOI7VNlOPnCErHxcYv6tbewm5QBqn34USssIiOurqcZ/s1600/IMG_20130407_171359.jpg' imageanchor='1' style='margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;'> <img border='0' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT_jTveOGHXWp4wWuTvWxxiL3xVAjFJndaLyKWeKhgzmv3ypHvZebEuRvdm7xrqZEvP_9f0vRVm0PZhaivNngQHF1NzGeuL0h38nOI7VNlOPnCErHxcYv6tbewm5QBqn34USssIiOurqcZ/s640/IMG_20130407_171359.jpg' /> </a> </div><div class='separator' style='clear: both; text-align: center;'> <a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5n23ojvRt9myuhrRxQpELeuf-HqTDrFHhA7tclH-t0FcD8lzZvWmzI27bU0RSFKKhW5tll2wxRKkl4EAyFjEplserGGIbeLNfXM61Fv4k35JelU4l-nNj82MxHYhy_mN42Agl5EDICHmh/s1600/IMG_20130406_144004.jpg' imageanchor='1' style='margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;'> <img border='0' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5n23ojvRt9myuhrRxQpELeuf-HqTDrFHhA7tclH-t0FcD8lzZvWmzI27bU0RSFKKhW5tll2wxRKkl4EAyFjEplserGGIbeLNfXM61Fv4k35JelU4l-nNj82MxHYhy_mN42Agl5EDICHmh/s640/IMG_20130406_144004.jpg' /> </a> </div>Identity Undecidedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06549167483453229443noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1055293871901694183.post-84327231180805542852013-04-04T17:06:00.000-07:002013-04-04T17:06:19.482-07:00I've had an EPIPHANY!!<img alt="" aria-busy="false" aria-describedby="fbPhotosSnowliftCaption" class="spotlight" height="266" src="https://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/26651_10151092256902307_274341240_n.jpg" style="height: 266px; width: 331px;" width="331" /><br />
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No, not only that...<br />
<br />
But that I'm really horrible at continuous blogging...<br />
<br />
I get really great for a stretch...and then I fall off the wagon....<br />
<br />
And I don't just take a small break...I go a loooonnnngggg time!<br />
<br />
The last update was pre Hawaiian vacation aka Ironman Kona!! That was Oct 2012...it's now April 2013...seriously...so much life lived since then. So here is my feeble attempt to catch up and get on a better foot. But with some adjustments, revelations and confessions. <br />
<br />
I'm not ever going to be a great blogger...I have 3 jobs, 2 kids, and a crazy life. But I will continue to try my best...but my best may not be extremely regular. I love to cook, I love to eat, I love to swim/bike/run, I love my job as a nurse. I want to blog about it all...not in an effort to be all "I love me" about it but an effort to remember...to possibly help others in any and all of those areas...and in a effort to process my life on "paper" if you will. I've always loved to write and it's like small version of therapy. If you want to read, read...if you don't I won't even know anyway :)<br />
<br />
So here it is...a catch up more in pictures than in words...because it's been a beautiful ride so far and I'm excited for what the future holds...<br />
<br />
First...HAWAII!! We spent 2 blissful weeks on the Big Island...swimming, running, snorkeling, tanning, exploring...and most importantly being present for the greatest triathlon around...the Ironman World Championships in Kona. It. Was. Epic.<br />
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Kids and I after a hard morning of snorkeling</div>
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Kiddos rocking the Wattie Ink W after the Underpants Run</div>
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Pre Ironman Med Tent</div>
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Holy Big Honu</div>
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Hard to top a Kona sunset</div>
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Family luau</div>
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Next up in the land of big updates is all the amazing work I've been privileged to do as a flight nurse....it's an opportunity I never imagined I'd have but I've been sooooooo blessed to do it! I've gone (I'm sure I'm missing some and these are in no particular order) to Palm Springs, Blythe, Seattle, Las Vegas, Anchorage, Adak, Taiwan, Japan, Thailand, Vancouver, Edmonton, Wisconsin, Denver, Cold Bay, and I'm sure a few more...some were for a moment...others were at least overnight...and it's been the experience of a lifetime. I'm so excited to see where else this job takes me...but here are some pics along the way...</div>
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Outside Edmonton in mighty chilly weather!</div>
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Trying to look over the pilot's shoulders at Mt. Rainier</div>
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Even the training is cool!</div>
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The last big update comes courtesy of the Navy. I've been privileged to already have some amazing experiences in my career in the Nurse Corps. The best to date was my two weeks spent in "boot camp" also known as Direct Commission Officer Indoctrination Course in Newport, Rhode Island. It was truly a life changing experience and I could never hope to sum it up in words....so some pictures will have to do...</div>
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With my amazing, fabulous roommate, Mikel.</div>
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Our one day of freedom after being snowed in by Nemo (the affectionate name the locals gave the blizzard that hit us hard!).</div>
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With the roomie again and my local SD girl Stephanie</div>
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My room for 2 weeks...pretty plush, huh?</div>
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Shoveling snow is oh so fun!</div>
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I had to try....</div>
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So anyway, there it all is...a massive update in a small way.</div>
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Here's what's coming up....</div>
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First I leave Saturday (in 2 days) for 9 days of field training with the Marines to do some expeditionary field medicine....should be quite an experience to say the least.</div>
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Then once home it's onto another challenge...the Whole 30 challenge that you can read up on <a href="http://www.whole9life.com/" target="_blank">here</a>...wanna join in on the fun? I'm staring April 15th along with a few other friends who want to improve their health too...the more the merrier! And yes, I know it's not vegan...but if you'll refer back <a href="http://www.identityundecided.blogspot.com/2011_12_11_archive.html" target="_blank">here</a> you see that I have only ever tweaked my diet for health reasons...and this is yet another step along the way of using myself as a guinea pig...it's science, right?? </div>
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Lastly on tap for me is my return back to long course racing...I've registered once again for Barb's race...I've tried it once before and I aim to try it again...and do it bigger and better...watch out...</div>
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I think that's about all I can cram in one blog post since I'm getting slightly crossed eyed...hope I didn't bore you to pieces and I swear to be a bit better at this, even if it's only a mobile update! Until then...</div>
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XOXO</div>
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Jackie</div>
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Identity Undecidedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06549167483453229443noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1055293871901694183.post-89863383363327488742013-03-17T08:01:00.001-07:002013-03-17T08:01:29.579-07:00It's been too long...but it's gonna be a bit longer...<p dir=ltr>I've been MIA since...ooohhhh...October of last year or so...ever since I went on my Big Island adventure.  But with 3 jobs, 2 kids, and 5 animals running around my life I tend to get a bit behind.  So I just wanted to wave my hand around a bit...assure you all that I'm still breathing...and that I'll be back...this week I promise.  Probably sans recipe as I haven't really been writing a thing down lately!  But it'll be one big update I swear...</p>
<p dir=ltr>Until then!</p>
<p dir=ltr>XOXO</p>
<p dir=ltr>Jax</p>
<div class='separator' style='clear: both; text-align: center;'> <a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXc0O9vQc8oqHCunKVf2z_UyyRbxLjbVl7kRK9CfZ9uSJ2fmcFP5JK5j2yPJbppNqTv1tPmu9IPjN_5-51uXOv28VlWNXCScKtq2DV9hpIgfWMgNjZ1CUt1s3d8atokCHCLdlHTS44pkKk/s1600/IMG_20130305_174453.jpg' imageanchor='1' style='margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;'> <img border='0' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXc0O9vQc8oqHCunKVf2z_UyyRbxLjbVl7kRK9CfZ9uSJ2fmcFP5JK5j2yPJbppNqTv1tPmu9IPjN_5-51uXOv28VlWNXCScKtq2DV9hpIgfWMgNjZ1CUt1s3d8atokCHCLdlHTS44pkKk/s640/IMG_20130305_174453.jpg' /> </a> </div>Identity Undecidedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06549167483453229443noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1055293871901694183.post-65634876888492969742012-10-03T16:46:00.000-07:002012-10-03T16:47:57.119-07:00WIAW #3 On The Fly...It's been busy 'round here...no surprise...<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">Only SIX more days till we head to the Big Island for some Ironman fun and even more relaxation!!!! AHHHHH!!!</span></h2>
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I'm more excited then I could ever explain...but prior to the vacation comes lots of planning...and working...<br />
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So today is another <span style="color: magenta;">What I Ate Wednesday</span>...I'll highlight some of the fab food I've been cooking up lately as well as give you a long awaited recipe....at the end ;)<br />
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I've been digging breakfast lately...in any form...at home or out and about...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breakfast on the Boardwalk at the Wavehouse...good food, great views</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This morning's tofu scramble at good ole' standby Snooze...no pic of the bloody Mary...but it was great too!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The usual morning standby at home...soyrizo with veggie galore!</td></tr>
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Can you see a theme in my breakfast choices?? A little spice and a whole lotta veg...but occasionally I do splurge on some pancake love....<br />
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<span style="color: cyan;">Smores pancakes anyone????? Recipe's at the end...keep reading...</span></h2>
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I've also been loving on salads for my work dinner...especially during <a href="http://powercakes.net/plantpower/" target="_blank">Powercakes</a> challenge (join us!)...<br />
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Or if I'm not at work I'm possibly at <a href="http://www.casadeluz.org/sandiego/" target="_blank">Casa De Luz</a> eating from their fabulously vegan and gluten free menu...<br />
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And when all is said and done I enjoy my version of "ice cream"...frozen bananas, almond butter, and almond milk thrown in the Vitamix until creamy...talk about a treat!!<br />
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So there you go...lots of my goodies from the past week or so...now I'm hungry and need to go make some dinner...on the menu?? Roast cauliflower, broccoli, lentils, and I'm not sure what else yet...what are you eating tonight?<br />
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Oh yeah...here's the recipe...maybe you can eat dessert for breakfast tomorrow morning...hmmm...maybe I will too!<br />
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Smores Pancakes</div>
<img alt="" class="photo" src="http://www.recipage.com/images/user1900/1349307289/recipe_image.jpg" style="clear: both; float: left; padding: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 40%;" /><br />
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by <span class="author">Jaclyn Trosper</span></div>
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">Prep Time:</span><span class="preptime"> 20 minutes</span></div>
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">Cook Time:</span><span class="cooktime"> 10 minutes</span></div>
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<script type="text/javascript">document.write('<ifr'+'ame s'+'rc="ht'+'tp://www.recipage.com/new_pageCreator/media_bar.php?recipe_id=6033882" width="100%" height="50px" fr'+'ameborder="0" scrolling="no"></ifr'+'ame>');</script><br />
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Ingredients<span class="single_recipe_text" style="color: black; font-size: 14px;"> (6 pancakes)</span></div>
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<li class="ingredient" style="margin-bottom: 3px;">2 cups multipurpose gluten free flour (try to find a brand that includes xanthan gum)</li>
<li class="ingredient" style="margin-bottom: 3px;">2 scoops protein powder (I used Sprouts generic soy vanilla)</li>
<li class="ingredient" style="margin-bottom: 3px;">1/4 tsp xanthan gum (only if your flour doesn't include it)</li>
<li class="ingredient" style="margin-bottom: 3px;">2 tbsp flax</li>
<li class="ingredient" style="margin-bottom: 3px;">3 tbsp warm water</li>
<li class="ingredient" style="margin-bottom: 3px;">2 tbsp applesauce</li>
<li class="ingredient" style="margin-bottom: 3px;">1 tbsp honey (not considered vegan but needed for that graham taste, use agave if you avoid honey)</li>
<li class="ingredient" style="margin-bottom: 3px;">8 drops liquid stevia</li>
<li class="ingredient" style="margin-bottom: 3px;">1/2 tsp vanilla</li>
<li class="ingredient" style="margin-bottom: 3px;">1/2 tsp cinnamon</li>
<li class="ingredient" style="margin-bottom: 3px;">2 C almond milk</li>
<li class="ingredient" style="margin-bottom: 3px;">8-12 vegan marshmallows</li>
<li class="ingredient" style="margin-bottom: 3px;">1/2 bar organic dark chocolate (you can also use carob chips but the flavor is a bit different)</li>
<li class="ingredient" style="margin-bottom: 3px;">2 tbsp coconut oil</li>
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Instructions</div>
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In a large bowl mix flour, protein powder, xanthan gum (if using), applesauce, honey, stevia, vanilla, cinnamon, and almond milk. In a separate small bowl mix flax and warm water. Add flax "egg" to large bowl, mix well. In a well greased pan drop large spoonfuls of mixture to form pancakes. Cook on medium heat, flip when bubbly and brown. Meanwhile in a double boiler heat marshmallows with 1 tbsp of the coconut oil, stir often to create a creamy mix. In microwave (or another double boiler) heat chocolate with other tbsp coconut oil until melted. Serve marshmallow and chocolate between layers of pancakes...you can even sprinkle cinnamon on top!</div>
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Powered by <a class="single_recipe_header" href="http://www.recipage.com/" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Recipage</a></div>
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<br />Identity Undecidedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06549167483453229443noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1055293871901694183.post-15520020222673452792012-10-01T13:57:00.000-07:002012-10-01T13:57:03.617-07:00First Foodie Pen Pal!I am so excited to share my first Foodie Pen Pal experience!!<br />
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Lindsay over at <a href="http://www.theleangreenbean.com/" target="_blank">The Lean Green Bean</a> created the program as a means to share the foodie love throughout the nation...well the program is now huge and I'm stoked to be a part of it...here are the rules...<br />
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<span style="color: cyan;">-On the <strong>5th of the month</strong>, you will receive your penpal pairing via email. It will be your responsibility to contact your penpal and get their mailing address and any other information you might need like allergies or dietary restrictions.<br />-You will have until the <strong>15th of the month</strong> to put your box of goodies in the mail. On the <strong>last day of the month</strong>, you will post about the goodies you received from your penpal!<br />-The boxes are to be filled with <strong>fun foodie things, local food items or even homemade treats</strong>! <strong>The spending limit is $15</strong>. <strong>The box must also include something written.</strong> This can be anything from a note explaining what’s in the box, to a fun recipe…use your imagination!<br />-You are responsible for figuring out the best way to ship your items depending on their size and how fragile they are. (Don’t forget about flat rate boxes!)<br />-Foodie Penpals is <strong>open to blog readers as well as bloggers</strong>. If you’re a reader and you get paired with a blogger, you can choose to write a short guest post for your penpal to post on their blog about what you received. If two readers are paired together, neither needs to worry about writing a post for that month.<br />- Foodie Penpals is open to US, Canadian residents & UK residents. <strong>Please note, Canadian Residents will be paired with other Canadians only. We’ve determined things might get too slow and backed up if we’re trying to send foods through customs across the border from US to Canada and vice versa. So, I’m going to keep two separate lists and match US w/ US and Canada w/ Canada! </strong></span><br />
<strong><span style="color: cyan;">***If you’re in the UK, please contact Carol Anne from </span><a href="http://thisisrocksalt.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: cyan;">This Is Rock Salt</span></a><span style="color: cyan;"> at rocksalt@thisisrocksalt.com to get involved!</span></strong><br />
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<a href="http://www.theleangreenbean.com/foodie-penpals/" target="_blank" title="The Lean Green Bean"><img alt="The Lean Green Bean" src="http://www.theleangreenbean.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/09/blogbadgeAPPLE.jpg" style="border: currentColor;" /></a></div>
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Now onto my first experience...I was paired with Claudia. She's a blog reader from right here in my area of San Diego. I found out her preferences and sent her these goodies...</div>
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Yum, right??</div>
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Here is what she had to say after receiving the goodies:</div>
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<span style="color: magenta;">Hi box came today and it was perfect! TJ's is one of my favorite stores and you found things I had never seen! A colleague at my office saw my box and got so envious that she signed up to be a foodie pen pal!<br /><br />All my best,</span></div>
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<span style="color: magenta;">Claudia</span></div>
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<span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;">I'm so happy she liked it all!</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;">As for myself, I was the foodie pen pal to Jay over at <a href="http://www.jaytravis.com/">www.jaytravis.com</a> He lives in New York and had to work to find me some gluten free/vegan goodies...but he excelled! He found a local bakery called <a href="http://www.xoxoveganbakery.com/" target="_blank">XOXO Vegan Bakery</a> and sent me a fudge brownie, an "ice cream" pie, and another awesome find of black bean spaghetti. Please don't mind that both bakery good are already partially eaten...couldn't help myself! Seeing as there is a $15 price limit the contents may seem sparse but trust me...you can taste the goodness in these baked goods!</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">So there you have it! My first foodie pen pal experience! It was a blast!</span></div>
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I'll be taking October off since I'll be HAWAII for most of the month! But I plan on being back for November and already have some tasty treats lined up for my next pen pal...will it be you???</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: lime;">XOXO</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: lime;"></span> </div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: lime;">Jackie</span></div>
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Identity Undecidedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06549167483453229443noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1055293871901694183.post-58329141121659761292012-09-30T13:59:00.002-07:002012-09-30T13:59:52.124-07:00Any Given Sunday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's a phrase my buddy Bex and I started saying often a few years back...<br />
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Every race can be great...<br />
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Or horrible...<br />
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Really, really fast...<br />
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Or you can't seem to find your speed at all....<br />
<br />
On any given Sunday (since most races are on Sundays).<br />
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You never know who will show up to race against you, or what kind of day they will have...geez...you may have stellar training leading up to a race and you might have a painful day out there. <br />
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You can do everything right...and the day unravels in front of you.<br />
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Or sometimes....<br />
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Just sometimes....<br />
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You reach really deep into your gut and pull out a great performance.<br />
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And on that given Sunday you did your best...and so did everyone else.<br />
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That's how today went.<br />
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Today was my 5th time starting the Mission Bay triathlon. It was my very first race in 2007. I skipped last year due to some serious overtraining and lack of motivation issues. But this year, on less training...more fun...and some serious ultrarunning base...I came back to where it all began. I even had my whole family there for support...and their support really means the world...it was the recipe for a great race... <br />
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I knew immediately that the 25-29 age group women had brought their A game. The pace on the swim was FAST...girls were pulling away from me (and I've really stepped up my swimming)...but luckily I started to reel them in as I went. I ended up with a 1 minute PR on the swim and since I didn't wear a wetsuit I had a great T1!<br />
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I flew out on the bike and just tried to hold on to a few girls I saw in front of me. One girl in particular was going just slightly slower...I didn't want her to think I was hanging on her wheel so I passed her and told her I was sure we would leap frog for a bit (she didn't pass me on the bike...but on the run...so we DID leapfrog-ish). I was passed at mile 2 or 3 by the blazing fast <a href="http://www.catalystendurancecoaching.com/teamcec.html" target="_blank">Team CEC's</a> Ashleigh Bordwell (who won our age group by a landslide). I wasn't passed again until the very end but ended up catching her later.<br />
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I came into T2 knowing I had some work to do. I had a solid bike but it wasn't a PR (at least I don't think it was since official results aren't posted yet). I changed as fast as I possible could and headed out.<br />
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The run was hard...really hard...<br />
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And I was only putting down 7:20's (not my fastest but certainly not cruising either). But they hurt! Luckily I had my amazing mom there as I headed out yelling to me that I was in 6th place and to pick them off one by one (love her and her belief in my abilities). I passed the first girl within the first mile...so now I was in 5th. Then I was passed by the girl I had passed on the bike...she was also in a <a href="http://www.catalystendurancecoaching.com/teamcec.html" target="_blank">Catalyst Endurance</a> kit (as were many of the top finishers...seeing as I used to train with them I should probably look into that again...they got some serious results!). I couldn't hold her...so I just stayed at my pace and looked to the next girl since I was in 6th again.<br />
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I passed another girl as we went up the hill after mile 2...and I held that position till the end. But I never had a moment where I could let up...they were always back there...fast, determined, amazing women. I had to WORK out there.....<br />
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When I race (run specifically) I tell myself over and over that unless I'm fainting or dying I'm not allowed to slow down. I used to put puke in there but after <a href="http://www.identityundecided.blogspot.com/2012/04/problem-with-bananas-ultramarathon-that.html" target="_blank">Oriflamme</a> I had to take that bit out...<br />
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So that's was I was doing out there...not giving an inch...thankfully since the next girl was less then 30 seconds back from me!<br />
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After I crossed the finish line I dry heaved a bit (enough that they grabbed a garbage can for me...luckily I didn't need it!)...and then walked myself straight to the med tent to fix up a gnarly blister that had bled all over my shoes. Shockingly I didn't REALLY feel it till I was done.<br />
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Mom was there and told me I probably got 4th or 5th (she was almost right on!).<br />
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And I was tired...<br />
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I found another friend Kaili, who had finished only a few minutes after me...I asked her immediately if she thought the field was super tough today...she agreed...the fast girls were out and we were forced to step up to the challenge. My A game was good enough for 5th place today...and I couldn't be prouder.<br />
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Some people may only feel successful if they win...or place...but not today.<br />
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Today I raced my best (and got a 30 second PR in the process)...nothing to be ashamed of there.<br />
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Another day...another race in the books...another PR...and I'm happy.<br />
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Any given Sunday...you never know what can happen...as long as you try your best it's bound to be great...<br />
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XOXO<br />
<br />
JackieIdentity Undecidedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06549167483453229443noreply@blogger.com2