Monthly Archives: December 2013

“Shirley, you can’t be serious.. and stop calling me Shirley”



You know those mornings that seem like you woke up in a weird movie?  That is when I think, if only I had a theme song.. I am not sure what it would sound like.. but I know this morning was one of those “Are you serious?” mornings.  

So, Today was SUPPOSED to go the following way.. 

1. I was supposed to wake up, make coffee. Take the dogs out. Make awesome husband breakfast.

2. Kiss husband, pat his tush.. and see him in the evening.. 

3. Sit down with large glass of water and have awesome conversation with dynamic powerhouse woman Heidi Armstrong via FaceTime.. “She seems pretty damn cool, check out her website here.. “.  

4. Go for my training run, then do my post run exercises.. walk the dogs.. 

5. Get a biopsy.. (wee!)

6. Come home, take a siesta with the puppies.. 

7. make dinner, welcome home husband.. go for family walk.. 

INSTEAD.. this is what happened.

We both woke up feeling under the weather, and struggled getting out of bed. The dogs seemed more needy than usual and appeared to want to make us trip over them with every step. I made husbands breakfast and lunch like a good wife (I really like doing this), we let our dogs, and he opted to drive the car to work in Guilford as its been making horrid sounds and needed to go to the shop, (I normally drive truck due to my newfound fear of driving my Toyota since the squish and peel trauma.. )

He left for work, came back five minutes later because he left his wallet at home.. I began getting ready to go for a run, when the phone rang and he explained the truck died at the gas station.. he checked the oil to find it bone dry (That’s my bad, Ive been driving it).

So I begin looking for my wallet to drive him to work, and discover Its “missing”.. After frantic searching and tripping on large labs for 10 minutes, I give in and drive him to work “wallet-less”.  Hoping I don’t get pulled over.. because with my luck, this would be the day I get pulled over.

He gets to work late, I begin driving home and the dogs throw up.  When a ninety pound lab throws up, well.. you get it.  This causes them to both want to get out of the throw up zone and into the front seat, WHILE Im driving.. 

I pull over, they fight over who gets to be upfront.. I begin cleaning up pile #1 of puke on the side of the road and escort the “loser” of the front seat challenge to the back to accompany the vomit.

We arrive at the tow truck place to hand over the trucks keys so the man can pick up the truck and take it to the mechanic, but I am lacking a wallet.  Smiling with frustration, I head back home.. the dogs jump out of the car covered in chunky puke into the house and my stomach begins heaving. 

We all get “cleaned up”, they want to regain playing.. and I still can not find my damn wallet. “Where the crap did you go, stupid wallet, did you run away again?”.

This is when the frantic “Monica from Friends” kicks in, and I begin cleaning.. Image

After almost two hours and shiny counter tops and dressers.. I found that little sneaky wallet.  Where you ask? On my bed of course.

At this point, I decide to finally pour my coffee and head to the tow truck place to drop off the keys and the man looks at me and says “You look familiar”.. he begins eyeing me and says “You from Clinton?”.  (sigh..).  So, I say.. that indeed.. Im “That” girl.  He then has a million questions for me, mostly the same one everyone asks “How in the hell are you smiling and standing?”.

I don’t want to go into it, so I answer with my blanket response of “Well, Im alive.. and I lived for a reason..” and then in my awkward fashion follow it up with a “fill in sentence”.. telling him I also found my wallet and cleaned up my dogs puke.. so the day was getting better. 

Upon arriving home, both dogs were smiling.. smelling fresh, and it was 11:00. I missed my biopsy. Not to worry, it is rescheduled for December 31st so it will be covered under 2013 ded. with my insurance.  So, now we sit and wait to find out of the truck is indeed “scrap” as the man called it.  He’s an older chap.  The truck has been with Sean about 9 years, and he bought it used. It went on many mountain biking trips with him out west when he lived in CO. It has seen Moab many times, and trekked across country carrying all of his belongings when he decided to move in with me in VT.  It has treated us well here in CT, and I failed to treat it with the same care it has given me and was not diligent with his oil change. 


So, here we are. Where we are supposed to be. 

Life has a funny way of happening fast.  Sometimes we are not where we want to be in life, and our days (even if they are just mornings) go completely opposite of how we expected.. HOWEVER, they end up just as they should.  

So, Don’t call me Shirley. I am serious. My house is also clean, my wallet is beside me, and my running shoes are on. 





Onward in the journey of hope and healing.


Phew- Here goes.

Im cycling again. A lot.  My bike has just been indoors on a computrainer, but it has been used.. and happy.  My body is getting stronger.  My rotations per minute are accelerating. My power is accelerating. My cardiovascular strength is improving.  I am becoming the triathlete I hoped and prayed I could become.. Image

With increased rotations, is an increased pressure on the saddle.  That increased pressure causes dynamic pain due to the damage my female “parts” have endured. I will be actively looking for another seat, as well going through some incredibly uncomfortable and embarrassing procedures to break up scar masses and allow my body to be more comfortable seated.

It seems when things are looking strong, that a rock flies into my wheel and breaks a spoke.. which brings me to the following:

Asking for a little prayer for tomorrow. My immune system has held onto some “abnormal cells” for three tests now (over an 18 month span). Tomorrow I will be heading in for another biopsy (this will be #3 in one year) since my results are still coming back positive for abnormal cells.  The doctor feels my body might not be able to clear the abnormal cells just because of the magnitude of surgeries Ive had over the last two years.. He is an Iron Man, and is very familiar with my training and health and said “KEEP DOING WHAT YOUR DOING”.  Knowing that my diet, exercise, and sleep has been what has allowed me to heal as well as I have and not get any worse.. That being said, we’ve known the entire time that long term open wounds and numerous surgeries always provides heavy stress on the immune system (mine already is compromised with Lupus). The hope is that the cells will “clear themselves” and not lead towards cervical cancer. Im pretty sick of procedures, and have had much, much, much anger about this trauma.. and much thankfulness for my health and healing. Im also aware that I have a long way to go.

That being said, I already almost lost my kidney and needed massive surgery because of this trauma, and my poor “wahoo” (a.k.a va-gi-na).. there, I said it.. has gone through a horrid time.

She has been ripped off, stapled back on, and is very full of scar tissue and now the inability to heal.. follow that with my “tookus” (a.k.a A-Nus)… there, I said that too.. that has been ripped miserably apart and also rebuilt.. and my poor “under carriage” is not happy.

So tomorrow, it is back in for more biopsies.. which is ridiculously pain filled and frustrating.

Why do I put this awkward, unhappy, gross piece on my blog? Because my blog is about authenticity.. and the hope that from sharing so much.. it will not only help me in my healing process, but (haha, BUTT) also help others to break down barriers of things that are otherwise “uncomfortable” to talk about.

I have a pretty face.. Thank God.. and Im also partially incontinent about 50% of the time with both bowel and bladder, and my body looks and feels like it got run over by a freight truck.

Not pleasant to talk about.. but real.

So, put your nose down.. we all poop. and fart.. I do both sometimes.. in public, and sometimes even when Im in front of hundreds of people talking.. It sucks, and yet. I can pee and poop.. so you know what? “better out than in, as my mother always says”..


More material for public talks.

Bow your head with me tonight, and help me seek grace and peace for another procedure tomorrow that will inevitably not only hurt physically but manifest all of the scars that the trauma has engrained into my being.. My prayer for myself is that I can accept  my own anger and pain, ask for continued healing, and also direct it towards seeking healing for others.. because, sometimes when we are at our low points.. it is when we are forced to look up. #BythegraceofGodgoI