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Sunday
30 September 2012
I'm not sure what I looked at that caused Amazon to spit out cholesterol-lowering suggestions, but really...one of these things is not like the others.
Wednesday
Monday
24 September 2012
I went to bed about an hour and a half ago, and--oddly, for me--fell asleep within ten minutes or so. Twenty minutes ago I woke up, ripped out of a bad dream, and I'm pretty sure I won't be going back to sleep for a while.
In this dream, I was sweeping the floor, amused that Buddah was watching me intently. But as I bent over to shove everything onto a dust pan, I realized there was a snake on the floor, fangs bared, and it was coming at me.
Before I could even squeak, Buddah got between the snake and me, he took the bite, and fell over.
Quite dead.
I pummeled the snake with the broom until it was one long string of mush on the cheap laminate, all the while begging Buddah to wake up.
I think that was what woke me up, the pleading over and over for him to wake up.
So, here I sit in the living room, not wanting to go back to bed. Max is curled up on Buddah's tower, and Buddah is in the chair next to me, snoring quite loudly, because he doesn't seem to grasp that if he didn't curl into such a tight ball, breathing would be a whole lot easier.
We always joked that Buddah is Hank reincarnated. Dreams like that...well, Hank would have gotten between a snake and me, too.
Max, not so much.
If they wake up before I go back to bed, they are sooo getting some crunchy treats.
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| It wasn't nearly this cute... (picture found at reddit) |
Before I could even squeak, Buddah got between the snake and me, he took the bite, and fell over.
Quite dead.
I pummeled the snake with the broom until it was one long string of mush on the cheap laminate, all the while begging Buddah to wake up.
I think that was what woke me up, the pleading over and over for him to wake up.
So, here I sit in the living room, not wanting to go back to bed. Max is curled up on Buddah's tower, and Buddah is in the chair next to me, snoring quite loudly, because he doesn't seem to grasp that if he didn't curl into such a tight ball, breathing would be a whole lot easier.
We always joked that Buddah is Hank reincarnated. Dreams like that...well, Hank would have gotten between a snake and me, too.
Max, not so much.
If they wake up before I go back to bed, they are sooo getting some crunchy treats.
Friday
21 September 2012
I Googled "You're not quite normal" and this is what Image Search coughed up:
Doctor Who, with a cat.
Sweet.
I looked for a "you're not quite normal" image because of the phone call I just got from the Gastroenterologist who performed my colonoscopy the other day. He took several biopsies in there, paying particular attention to a reddish area that he thought might just be a spot where the colitis had not yet quite resolved.
Before he began on Tuesday, he went over why I was there--because there had been an issue and I wasn't only there because I was over 50 and it was time--and he thought, based on the Cat Scan I'd had in July and the symptoms, that I'd had an infection. He mentioned that my regular doc had diagnosed possible diverticulitis, but if I'd had that (badly enough) it would have shown on the scan, so he wasn't expecting to find giant diverticulae.
Ok, fine. He did the scope, took some biopsies, and then he sent the snippets he took out of my colon to the pathologist.
The results are already in.
I have some "mild architectural changes" and a few small diverticulae, but none of that explains the sudden onset colitis of early July. There was no sign of infection, and other than speculating that I may (or may not) have the start of some chronic inflammatory disease, he doesn't know what's going on.
But...he also doesn't think I need to worry about it, unless things get worse.
So of course, I kinda wanna worry about it.
What I'll really do, though, is focus on the fact that not once did he mention the presence of cancerous or even pre-cancerous cells. And embrace the fact that once again, I have been deemed not quite normal.
That figures.
Sweet.
I looked for a "you're not quite normal" image because of the phone call I just got from the Gastroenterologist who performed my colonoscopy the other day. He took several biopsies in there, paying particular attention to a reddish area that he thought might just be a spot where the colitis had not yet quite resolved.
Before he began on Tuesday, he went over why I was there--because there had been an issue and I wasn't only there because I was over 50 and it was time--and he thought, based on the Cat Scan I'd had in July and the symptoms, that I'd had an infection. He mentioned that my regular doc had diagnosed possible diverticulitis, but if I'd had that (badly enough) it would have shown on the scan, so he wasn't expecting to find giant diverticulae.
Ok, fine. He did the scope, took some biopsies, and then he sent the snippets he took out of my colon to the pathologist.
The results are already in.
I have some "mild architectural changes" and a few small diverticulae, but none of that explains the sudden onset colitis of early July. There was no sign of infection, and other than speculating that I may (or may not) have the start of some chronic inflammatory disease, he doesn't know what's going on.
But...he also doesn't think I need to worry about it, unless things get worse.
So of course, I kinda wanna worry about it.
What I'll really do, though, is focus on the fact that not once did he mention the presence of cancerous or even pre-cancerous cells. And embrace the fact that once again, I have been deemed not quite normal.
That figures.
Wednesday
19 September 2012
...and everything came out all right in the end...
All right, whoever named this stuff was as full of what it’s intended to remove. It should be more aptly named GOLYKFLAMESSHOOTINGOUTYOURASTERISKREPEATEDLY.
Still…other than the fact that the volume required to consume as prep for a colonoscopy is an insane amount, it wasn’t that bad. It tasted like lemon flavored sea water, but I was able to make it a little more palatable by adding lemonade Crystal Lite to it. Not that it tasted like lemonade, but at least I could get it down with a minimum of gagging.
Now, one of the things they tell you about prep day is that you can only have clear liquids. I suggest you shop accordingly. There are lots of fun clear liquids to choose from, just make sure there’s no red dye in them.
Seriously, though…I’d read in more than one place online that one way to make the prep easier was to eat lighly the couple of days before starting. Sunday and Monday the heaviest thing I ate was Frosted Flakes for dinner on Sunday, and Monday I ate toast with peanut butter for breakfast, and after that, just noodle soup.
And it worked, I think. The horrificness I expected from the prep never happened, mostly because there really wasn’t much hanging around in my gut. I stared drinking the GoLytely around 1pm and was done with it a little after 4… And TMI…by 3:30 everything was running clear, and I was done needing to drink any more of it.
But…BUTT…the worst of it really isn’t the prep drink. It’s not the feeling like you’re going to rocket off the toilet and plunge head first into the ceiling. The worst of it is what all that prep drink coming out the other end does to that tender, tender flesh.
Vaseline is your friend. And don’t make my mistake of waiting until you need it. Start gooping that chit on right from the start, put in on thick, and extend it farther on your nether cheeks than you think you’ll need it. Yeah, your undies are going to be less than pretty after, but at least those will wash out.
By 8pm I was down to gurgling, nothing major. I was hungry as hell, but not starving, and kept drinking my clear liquids right up until I went to bed around 11:45.
Since my biggest worry was the prep—I am a delicate flower, after all—I wasn’t worried or nervous about the actual colonoscopy. Someone seeing my bare ass? No big deal. I’m pretty sure mine is neither something special nor something unusual, so there was no squeamishness about that. Someone shoving a giant rubber hose up there? I was promised drugs, and if you give me the right drugs, you can do almost anything to me. I don’t care.
I thought I might be a little nervous during the check-in, but wasn’t. And I expected a little of it while going through my medical history with the nurse—who advised that post-procedure I fart my little heart out, because I was going to be very bloated and full of air and holding it in, not such a good idea—but it never surfaced.
Even after changing clothes, getting the IV in (two points to that nurse, who got it in one stick), all I wanted was to get started, get rolled back to the room for my drugs.
Seriously, that’s all I wanted. Drugs to knock me out. A half hour, drug-induced nap sounded just fine.
That part, I looked forward to. As I was wheeled into the too-cold procedure room (you know it’s too cold when the tech is wrapped up in a blanket she got from the blanket warmer) all I was looking for was the drugs. But before they would give them to me, the doc seemed to think it was a good idea to go over the history of why I was there—he’d actually taken the time to read the report sent by my primary doc—and he wanted to weigh in on what he expected to find (nothing, really) and what he suspected caused the colitis in July (likely infection.) And then he snapped his gloves on, and it was drug time.
Yay! Drugs!
I watched as the nurse added the Demerol and Versed to my IV and waited to drift off to LaLa land…
…and I never did. I was definitely more relaxed and a touch woozy, but I was wide awake for the whole damned thing, from the moment he shoved that giant rubber hose up my asterisk, while he wiggled it around and took biopsy samples and snipped a couple of they-don’t-look-like-anything polyps, until he unceremoniously yanked that sucker out with a too-happy, “All done!”
I’m thinking he enjoyed it a little too much.
Still, even awake—because of the Demerol, I’m sure—it wasn’t remotely awful. A little uncomfortable in spots, but not painful, and definitely nothing worth worrying about.
Honestly, the worst part of the whole thing was the flaming asterisk because I hadn’t pre-emptively used the Vaseline. In 10 years, when I need it again, I’ll remember that part.
Boys and girls, if you’re putting it off because you’re afraid of the prep, or embarrassed about the actual procedure…it honestly is not anything worth getting worked up over. Just eat light a few days beforehand, don’t eat anything the day you start the prep, make sure the GoLytely (or generic thereof) is icy cold (make it the night before a refrigerate), and goop the holy hell out of your asterisk before the intestinal onslaught begins.
It is honestly no big deal.
When they sent me home, about 30 minutes after I was done, it was with another you’ll-fart-a lot-don’t-hold-it-in warning. So I figured I’d be tooting all the way home, something for the Spouse Thingy to enjoy.
But. I was disappointed.
The massive, all-afternoon fart-fest I was promised fizzled with a couple of half hearted toots. That might be the most disappointing thing of all.
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| Like hell it is |
Still…other than the fact that the volume required to consume as prep for a colonoscopy is an insane amount, it wasn’t that bad. It tasted like lemon flavored sea water, but I was able to make it a little more palatable by adding lemonade Crystal Lite to it. Not that it tasted like lemonade, but at least I could get it down with a minimum of gagging.
 |
| Clear liquids are your friend |
Seriously, though…I’d read in more than one place online that one way to make the prep easier was to eat lighly the couple of days before starting. Sunday and Monday the heaviest thing I ate was Frosted Flakes for dinner on Sunday, and Monday I ate toast with peanut butter for breakfast, and after that, just noodle soup.
And it worked, I think. The horrificness I expected from the prep never happened, mostly because there really wasn’t much hanging around in my gut. I stared drinking the GoLytely around 1pm and was done with it a little after 4… And TMI…by 3:30 everything was running clear, and I was done needing to drink any more of it.
But…BUTT…the worst of it really isn’t the prep drink. It’s not the feeling like you’re going to rocket off the toilet and plunge head first into the ceiling. The worst of it is what all that prep drink coming out the other end does to that tender, tender flesh.
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| Trust me... |
By 8pm I was down to gurgling, nothing major. I was hungry as hell, but not starving, and kept drinking my clear liquids right up until I went to bed around 11:45.
I thought I might be a little nervous during the check-in, but wasn’t. And I expected a little of it while going through my medical history with the nurse—who advised that post-procedure I fart my little heart out, because I was going to be very bloated and full of air and holding it in, not such a good idea—but it never surfaced.
Even after changing clothes, getting the IV in (two points to that nurse, who got it in one stick), all I wanted was to get started, get rolled back to the room for my drugs.
Seriously, that’s all I wanted. Drugs to knock me out. A half hour, drug-induced nap sounded just fine.
That part, I looked forward to. As I was wheeled into the too-cold procedure room (you know it’s too cold when the tech is wrapped up in a blanket she got from the blanket warmer) all I was looking for was the drugs. But before they would give them to me, the doc seemed to think it was a good idea to go over the history of why I was there—he’d actually taken the time to read the report sent by my primary doc—and he wanted to weigh in on what he expected to find (nothing, really) and what he suspected caused the colitis in July (likely infection.) And then he snapped his gloves on, and it was drug time.
Yay! Drugs!
I watched as the nurse added the Demerol and Versed to my IV and waited to drift off to LaLa land…
…and I never did. I was definitely more relaxed and a touch woozy, but I was wide awake for the whole damned thing, from the moment he shoved that giant rubber hose up my asterisk, while he wiggled it around and took biopsy samples and snipped a couple of they-don’t-look-like-anything polyps, until he unceremoniously yanked that sucker out with a too-happy, “All done!”
I’m thinking he enjoyed it a little too much.
Honestly, the worst part of the whole thing was the flaming asterisk because I hadn’t pre-emptively used the Vaseline. In 10 years, when I need it again, I’ll remember that part.
Boys and girls, if you’re putting it off because you’re afraid of the prep, or embarrassed about the actual procedure…it honestly is not anything worth getting worked up over. Just eat light a few days beforehand, don’t eat anything the day you start the prep, make sure the GoLytely (or generic thereof) is icy cold (make it the night before a refrigerate), and goop the holy hell out of your asterisk before the intestinal onslaught begins.
It is honestly no big deal.
When they sent me home, about 30 minutes after I was done, it was with another you’ll-fart-a lot-don’t-hold-it-in warning. So I figured I’d be tooting all the way home, something for the Spouse Thingy to enjoy.
But. I was disappointed.
The massive, all-afternoon fart-fest I was promised fizzled with a couple of half hearted toots. That might be the most disappointing thing of all.
Sunday
16 September 2012
If you use any of the following, or any of the potential derivatives...
ObamaFart
RomnoBot
ObamBozo
MittenHead
Obuttama
Romnodork
...you need to grow the hell up.
I seriously, seriously do not remember there ever being such an overt level of disrespect toward the President and Presidential candidates before.
Obama is an American. Stop pushing the Birther Agenda.
Romney is not going to rip off the middle class and give it all to the rich. Stop promoting the Reverse Robin Hood Agenda.
Just grow up already. And show some respect. Cripes.
ObamaFart
RomnoBot
ObamBozo
MittenHead
Obuttama
Romnodork
...you need to grow the hell up.
I seriously, seriously do not remember there ever being such an overt level of disrespect toward the President and Presidential candidates before.
Obama is an American. Stop pushing the Birther Agenda.
Romney is not going to rip off the middle class and give it all to the rich. Stop promoting the Reverse Robin Hood Agenda.
Just grow up already. And show some respect. Cripes.
Friday
14 September 2012
How can you still support Komen? After everything that happened, how?
Ok, so not a direct quote. But it’s the sentiment that I and many other people who have crewed and walked in the 3 Day this year have been faced with. I’ve heard it and variations since the whole Planned Parenthood thing exploded, and I’ve seen others online struggling with it. One or two walkers who landed in our sweep van were talking about it.
It doesn’t even matter what side of the issue we’re on: a not so small number of people don’t seem to quite understand how we can still throw our support behind this organization.
I didn’t come to it lightly. I chewed through it here, practically vomiting my thoughts onto virtual paper while I picked through the detritus of what was happening with Komen.
In a nutshell, after the fiasco of saying that Planned Parenthood would no longer be getting funding from Komen, they backed down and reversed the decision, and as part of that revised the policy change that supposedly was at the crux of it all. The person who seemed to be the instigator and for whom the issue of PP getting funding was personal “resigned.” Funding was not only restored, but from what I’ve heard, PP got a little more this year than last.
And more recently, Nancy Brinker resigned as CEO and moved into a different position.
But here’s the thing…no matter what happened, no matter how skewed I think the salaries of those high in the Komen chain are, no matter what I think about the politics and the unpleasantness of it all, that doesn’t change the fact that Komen does a lot of good for a lot of people.
I think the good they do outweighs the bad. The money they spend on research, on direct health care, on support of women and men who are facing breast cancer is far more important than what I think was an egregious error in judgment.
They screwed up. They’ve admitted it. They’ve taken steps to correct it. People have lost jobs over it.
Still…I get where people are coming from. It was huge, so why did I turn around and volunteer to crew this year?
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| This really was too much fun |
But just as important…while I did not want to walk for Komen this year—I knew I’d never be able to adequately fund raise, for one—I absolutely did want to support the people who looked past everything and did what they had to do in order to walk. I have no issues with those who fully embrace Komen and they do it because their hearts are as big as their ability to face those miles head on and with a smile.
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| They didn't quit...how could I? |
Truly, I can’t speak for other people, what motivated them to get involved this year in spite of everything that’s happened with Komen. I can only say that for me, the positives of Komen far outweigh the negatives, and I would much rather be engaged in something that saves lives and protects the integrity of people going through treatment than I would in turning my back on them just because I disagreed with that one thing.
Will I walk for them again? I honestly don’t know. If I don’t, it’s not going to be because of the PP debacle, it will be because walking those distances is getting harder and harder. If I do, I’m going to have to straight up admit to donors before the fact that I probably won’t cover all 60 miles. But I have no doubt that I will remain involved somehow. Crew is important; I don’t mind the idea of driving a van or hauling food or cleaning up for and after the walkers.
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| She certainly still deserves support |
I’m already registered to crew for Komen in San Francisco again next year. It was just too much fun not to.
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| And how can I miss the Hookers??? |
I can respect it if someone doesn’t want to throw another dime at Komen. I respect it just as much if they do. There’s no right or wrong in how a person feels about this; it just is what it is. It is a conundrum, but no one should feel bad for the side they pick…both sides are defensible, but I find more worth in the side I ended up on.
My opinions and needs < Komen’s actions and needs < people with breast cancer and people who will get breast cancer.
It really is that simple.
Wednesday
12 September 2012
Didn’t you used to be a Republican? How can you turn your back on family values and embrace the things that are polar opposite from your core and your religion?Hmm. Well. Yes, once upon a time I was registered as a Republican; I was also a teenager whose political viewpoint was still far from being fully formed, and it was a time when being a Republican didn’t mean being someone so willing to squash the freedoms of those who might have a life viewpoint different than mine.
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| Last of the True Republicans? |
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| A REALLY good Republican |
There seems to be an ignorant—or perhaps arrogant— willingness to forget that many of the founders of this great country were atheists, and those non-believers were more than willing to protect the freedoms of others to embrace belief and live the religions of their own choosing.
But worse, if it can be worse, the Republican Party of today doesn’t appear to be acting in the best interests of the country, but rather in its own interests. Party above all, screw the country. It seems that they will do and say anything to keep President Obama from being re-elected, no matter how many lies that have to be told or truths that have to be skewered to get it done. They’re blocking bills they themselves initially supported, stumping jobs-creation that leads to higher unemployment, and they’re pushing to default on debt, which has led to the downgrading of the U.S. credit rating…and it’s all being done to forward an agenda that is not for the greater good, but for the good of the special few.
Look, you know the lies are over the top when even Fox News feels it has to point out the glaring untruths in Ryan’s convention speech.
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| Maybe she should run next... |
As for Romney, he seems like a personable guy. I think he’d be a lousy president and he flip flops like a fish out of water, but I’m not a fan of the way the media jumps on stupid things about him. Like his tax returns. So he won’t release them. Big deal. We all know he’s rich as hell, there’s no news to be found there. I don’t think he’s hiding money from the government or covering up unpaid taxes. If anything, he doesn’t want the LDS church to see exactly how much he’s got, because there’s that pesky tithing thing and he just might not have coughed up 10% of every single dime he’s made.
I’m just guessing on that, though. And I doubt it would be intentional, but why stir up the pot when it doesn’t need to be?
He needs to stop the borderline apologies for his wealth and stop trying to make like he and his family really know what it’s like to not have a lot. We all know his life has been more comfortable than most, even in his youth. So what? I don’t begrudge anyone their wealth. Do good things with it, be a good person, that’s all that matters.
Still…I no longer trust what the Republican Party stands for. Because from where I sit, it’s now a party of we’re right, you’re wrong, and if you don’t embrace how far to the right we now lean then you’re going to hell, and like it or not we’re taking this country back to the 50s where our women belong in the kitchen, and all those faggoty people need to go the fuck away.
It’s become—to me—a party of people who claim to be Christian and want to take the U.S. to Christian extremes, yet I see very little true Christian principles in these people. There’s a meanness there that just makes me sad. There’s a level of fear-mongering that leaves me bewildered, and—I hate to say it—a lack of education that scares me. Ignorance embraced—if you honestly believe that our President is a Muslim (not that it should matter, not if one truly believes in freedom of religion) and he was born in Kenya, yeah, you’re not the brightest bulb in the pack—terrifies me.
None of that means I’m a Democrat, either. It only means that in the post-Reagan era, the Republican Party lost my trust, and it would take a hell of a lot to get it back.
Oh, and the core of "my religion?"
Yeah, so not an organized religion kind of person. Been there, done that, hate the hypocrisy, never again.
Tuesday
11 September 2012
All righty. I think the most important thing is that I didn’t
run anyone over with the van. I didn’t plow through a crosswalk filled with
nuns and small children, I didn’t smash into a line of cars at the side of the
street, and I didn’t squish walkers, road safety crew, nor knock the
port-a-potties over at any of the pit stops.
There were a few curb checks, but I blame the big ass van and narrow San Francisco streets for that. And we had a very close call in Berkley while making a right turn and some impatient bubble-brained blonde woman in a blue sedan was too impatient for me to finish making the damned turn before trying to pass…we’re talking a very narrow lane, sidewalk with people on one side and a traffic island on the other, and she decides to pass. I think we missed colliding by less than an inch.
But we didn’t, and all in all, I had an absolute blast driving the sweep van for the 3 Day.
We had less than an auspicious start to our 3 Day adventure; when we checked into the crew hotel Thursday, the clerk at the front desk told us the crew buses would start at 3:45; we took that to mean the first bus would leave then, followed by others, until the last walker bus left at 6:30. After all, that’s how it’s worked in the past. One bus follows another, until all the walkers are boarded.
Um. Yeah.
We got down to the lobby at about 3:50 Friday morning, and the only crew buses—just two of them—had already left. The first walker bus wouldn’t be there until 4:45, long after we were supposed to be at the opening ceremony site.
Oops.
Michelle called our crew captain to let her know; she said it was fine. That was all well and good, but we still had an hour to kill waiting for the next bus. The hotel was passing out breakfast boxes, which only had an apple, a protein bar, and some yogurt in them. Not really enough to pass an entire hour munching on.
We didn’t get to the opening ceremony site until nearly 5:25; since we were one of the first vans out and were starting at Pit Stop 1, we headed out and finished decorating our van there. The nice people of the PS1 Double Dee Diner let us load our cooler with their ice, we availed ourselves of the not-yet-used port-a-potties, and waited for the first walker to get there. Once she was in, we took off, starting our three days of driving around, stalking walkers, making sure they were all right and picking up those who needed a break.
I’m not gonna kid you, Marge; the days were long, starting
before 7 a.m. and ending after 6 p.m. and the longest we were out of the van at
any given time was on day 1 when we took 15 minutes to have lunch and take in
the view of the Golden Gate Bridge from our vantage point at Fort Baker.
We’d have been fools not to. But other than that, we kept
moving all day on all three days; I drove and Michelle navigated—she is truly a
map-reading demon and kept us on route even when the Garmin could not (‘cause
it just did.not.work.) and when the maps didn’t show one way streets or blocked
off streets—and she was the one getting in and out of the van to help walkers
get in and out.
All I had to do was point the van where she told me to, to keep an eye out for objects I should probably not run over, and to look for walkers needing help
.
Michelle also kept an eye out for route safety workers to offer them water, Gatorade, and cookies; on day 2 we were flagged down by one of the guys who wanted to buy one of our bras so he would have some kind of decoration on his motorcycle; she had 140 of the damn things (donated to the cause by the people she works with and her nieces) and by the time we left, he not only had a bra on his bike, but he was wearing a leopard print bra and his teenaged son was wearing a zebra print bra. Later in the day they asked for a couple more, and were seen riding around with them on their helmets.
When we got to camp on the first day, I was worn out. I hadn’t slept much in the hotel Thursday night, and after driving all day, I was down to the last of my energy reserves. We got the van parked and headed for the gear truck where our bags were waiting and where we could pick up our tent, which still needed to be put up. We needed to blow up our mattresses, get food, get shuttle passes in order to get back to the hotel on Sunday because that’s where my car was parked, still needed to shower…
…so you can imagine how grateful we were that waiting for us at the gear truck were a couple of Boy Scouts, who dragged our heavy-assed bags across the camp site for us, and who put up two tents for us.
Yep, we got our own tents. The
down side to that is we were able to get our own because there was enough space
for them, and there was enough space for them because there were 6oo fewer
walkers than last year.
Still. Tiny tents = very happy to get one solo no matter what the reason.
Day 2 started earlier than it needed to when someone slapped
the door to my tent at 5:30 to wake me up…a fellow sweep van person who didn’t
realize I didn’t need to be up quite so early. I grumbled, but I’d been lying
there half-awake anyway, and it gave me enough time to lounge a bit and not
rush to get dressed, get food, and get going.
It was by far the busiest day. We picked up fewer than 20 walkers the first day and fewer than 10 the third (partly because of where we were in the van lineup and partly because by that point on the route no one wanted to get swept to the holding area, not with fewer than 5 miles to go) but on the second day we picked up somewhere around 60.
Coolest thing to happen? We were at the lunch stop to drop a couple of tired walkers off and a woman came up excitedly to tell us we had her tattoo on our van. After a little confusion—because, peeps, it’s my tattoo design we had on the van—we came to find out she had wanted a cool pink ribbon tattoo but not the typical one (kind of like me) and Googled for ideas and found this pink ribbon feet tattoo and took it to an artist to get it inked…the tattoo she’d found was mine.
I may have started a trend!
I’m not sure how many miles we covered over the three days; the walkers did roughly 60, but with all the back and forth we did, I’m guessing it was around 300-350 miles. That third day we started ahead of the walkers, and kept up with the first group until around noon, when we headed for the stretch between the last pit stop and the holding area, and rode that for over 4 hours.
There was one point where if I could have, I would have stopped the van in the middle of the road, gotten out, and beaten the holy hell out of someone; as the walkers were making their way down a very narrow path that had the street (and us) on one side and a hill heading downward on their other side, some dipwad trying to walk against the stream of 3 day people got annoyed and shoulder-checked a walker—if he’d done it any harder she would have gone down the hill—and he was yelling about them walking single file.
Yeah, I yelled back. I couldn’t do anything and couldn’t stop because there were a lot of cars behind us and no way for them to get around, but damn I wanted to.
I think that was the worst of things happening.
Other than that…we had a blast. There were only a couple of grumpy walkers we picked up, and then only because they didn’t quite understand that when they wanted us to get them they were in an area we were not allowed in so we had to meet them at a point about a mile from where they wanted us to be, but everyone else was cheery and happy to take a short ride with us.
They got a Rock the Pink pin and temporary tattoos for getting into the van, and Michelle had a ton of candy and cookies for them, which made for some happy campers.
All in all, tons of fun and I’m looking forward to doing it again next year; registration opens tomorrow, so cross your fingers I get online in time to snag the sweep job. I drove a lot of miles, ate way too many Tootsie Rolls, got to watch nearly a thousand people walk along, had a few chuckles when tourists pointed at the bra-covered van and took pictures, and got a really good look at why people did this walk, even those who were still really ticked off about the Komen/Planned Parenthood fiasco that happened earlier in the year.
It wasn’t about politics. It was about friends and family who have been helped by the Komen Foundation, politics aside, and for survivors it was about living life and not counting every wrong thing Komen does against every right thing it does.
It was about hope. Politics don’t get to take that away from people.
Oh, and next year remind me to use sunscreen. I
had on a sweatshirt, but I pushed it up my arm and I got a nice 4 inch burn
from hell on my left arm.
Totally worth it.
There were a few curb checks, but I blame the big ass van and narrow San Francisco streets for that. And we had a very close call in Berkley while making a right turn and some impatient bubble-brained blonde woman in a blue sedan was too impatient for me to finish making the damned turn before trying to pass…we’re talking a very narrow lane, sidewalk with people on one side and a traffic island on the other, and she decides to pass. I think we missed colliding by less than an inch.
But we didn’t, and all in all, I had an absolute blast driving the sweep van for the 3 Day.
We had less than an auspicious start to our 3 Day adventure; when we checked into the crew hotel Thursday, the clerk at the front desk told us the crew buses would start at 3:45; we took that to mean the first bus would leave then, followed by others, until the last walker bus left at 6:30. After all, that’s how it’s worked in the past. One bus follows another, until all the walkers are boarded.
Um. Yeah.
We got down to the lobby at about 3:50 Friday morning, and the only crew buses—just two of them—had already left. The first walker bus wouldn’t be there until 4:45, long after we were supposed to be at the opening ceremony site.
Oops.
Michelle called our crew captain to let her know; she said it was fine. That was all well and good, but we still had an hour to kill waiting for the next bus. The hotel was passing out breakfast boxes, which only had an apple, a protein bar, and some yogurt in them. Not really enough to pass an entire hour munching on.
We didn’t get to the opening ceremony site until nearly 5:25; since we were one of the first vans out and were starting at Pit Stop 1, we headed out and finished decorating our van there. The nice people of the PS1 Double Dee Diner let us load our cooler with their ice, we availed ourselves of the not-yet-used port-a-potties, and waited for the first walker to get there. Once she was in, we took off, starting our three days of driving around, stalking walkers, making sure they were all right and picking up those who needed a break.
 |
| Left side of the van, Day 1 at Pit Stop 1 |
 |
| This photo taken by walker Cathy Youngling as we drove by on Day 2 |
 |
| Lunch with a view on Day 1 |
All I had to do was point the van where she told me to, to keep an eye out for objects I should probably not run over, and to look for walkers needing help
.
Michelle also kept an eye out for route safety workers to offer them water, Gatorade, and cookies; on day 2 we were flagged down by one of the guys who wanted to buy one of our bras so he would have some kind of decoration on his motorcycle; she had 140 of the damn things (donated to the cause by the people she works with and her nieces) and by the time we left, he not only had a bra on his bike, but he was wearing a leopard print bra and his teenaged son was wearing a zebra print bra. Later in the day they asked for a couple more, and were seen riding around with them on their helmets.
When we got to camp on the first day, I was worn out. I hadn’t slept much in the hotel Thursday night, and after driving all day, I was down to the last of my energy reserves. We got the van parked and headed for the gear truck where our bags were waiting and where we could pick up our tent, which still needed to be put up. We needed to blow up our mattresses, get food, get shuttle passes in order to get back to the hotel on Sunday because that’s where my car was parked, still needed to shower…
…so you can imagine how grateful we were that waiting for us at the gear truck were a couple of Boy Scouts, who dragged our heavy-assed bags across the camp site for us, and who put up two tents for us.
 |
| The view from inside my tent |
Still. Tiny tents = very happy to get one solo no matter what the reason.
 |
| Morning comes too early |
It was by far the busiest day. We picked up fewer than 20 walkers the first day and fewer than 10 the third (partly because of where we were in the van lineup and partly because by that point on the route no one wanted to get swept to the holding area, not with fewer than 5 miles to go) but on the second day we picked up somewhere around 60.
Coolest thing to happen? We were at the lunch stop to drop a couple of tired walkers off and a woman came up excitedly to tell us we had her tattoo on our van. After a little confusion—because, peeps, it’s my tattoo design we had on the van—we came to find out she had wanted a cool pink ribbon tattoo but not the typical one (kind of like me) and Googled for ideas and found this pink ribbon feet tattoo and took it to an artist to get it inked…the tattoo she’d found was mine.
I may have started a trend!
I’m not sure how many miles we covered over the three days; the walkers did roughly 60, but with all the back and forth we did, I’m guessing it was around 300-350 miles. That third day we started ahead of the walkers, and kept up with the first group until around noon, when we headed for the stretch between the last pit stop and the holding area, and rode that for over 4 hours.
There was one point where if I could have, I would have stopped the van in the middle of the road, gotten out, and beaten the holy hell out of someone; as the walkers were making their way down a very narrow path that had the street (and us) on one side and a hill heading downward on their other side, some dipwad trying to walk against the stream of 3 day people got annoyed and shoulder-checked a walker—if he’d done it any harder she would have gone down the hill—and he was yelling about them walking single file.
Yeah, I yelled back. I couldn’t do anything and couldn’t stop because there were a lot of cars behind us and no way for them to get around, but damn I wanted to.
I think that was the worst of things happening.
Other than that…we had a blast. There were only a couple of grumpy walkers we picked up, and then only because they didn’t quite understand that when they wanted us to get them they were in an area we were not allowed in so we had to meet them at a point about a mile from where they wanted us to be, but everyone else was cheery and happy to take a short ride with us.
They got a Rock the Pink pin and temporary tattoos for getting into the van, and Michelle had a ton of candy and cookies for them, which made for some happy campers.
All in all, tons of fun and I’m looking forward to doing it again next year; registration opens tomorrow, so cross your fingers I get online in time to snag the sweep job. I drove a lot of miles, ate way too many Tootsie Rolls, got to watch nearly a thousand people walk along, had a few chuckles when tourists pointed at the bra-covered van and took pictures, and got a really good look at why people did this walk, even those who were still really ticked off about the Komen/Planned Parenthood fiasco that happened earlier in the year.
It wasn’t about politics. It was about friends and family who have been helped by the Komen Foundation, politics aside, and for survivors it was about living life and not counting every wrong thing Komen does against every right thing it does.
It was about hope. Politics don’t get to take that away from people.
 |
| Ow |
Totally worth it.
4 September 2012
Day after tomorrow DKM and I head for the Bay Area for the SF Komen 3 Day for the Cure. Nope, we're not walking; we're going to be in a van, driving back and forth on the route, picking up walkers who need a break.
I'm hoping this year goes better than last year, when I had to leave at the end of day two because I'd gotten sick.
This year, I had the sense to get sick ahead of time. I'm just kind of half holding my breath, hoping that I don't have a flare up between now and Monday morning. Well, I don't want one after that, either, but I don't want to screw it up the 3 Day this time around.
It's not just me that gets hosed if I get sick. It hoses DKM and takes a van out of the lineup, and it's not like there are 25 vans in operation.
I feel decent, though, so it's really just one of those please don't let it happen things. My real concern should be fatigue, because I'm still a litte tired a lot of the time, but it's not like I'm going to be on my feet all the time. I'll be on my asterisk most of the time, a position I am quite comfortable with.
This will be my first time crewing; I'm very excited about it, and quite hopeful that I won't run anyone over.
I can always blame DKM if I do. I'll find a way.
After this weekend is over, I just have to get through the 19th (colonoscopy...fun, fun, fun) and then I'll train to walk those miles I missed in July, when I couldn't do the Avon walk. In either October or November, I'll go back to San Francisco (because WHY NOT?!?!) and spend a couple of days walking. You guys donated so that I could do that in July...so I'll be a little late, but it'll still be fun.
But until then... ROCK THE PICK SWEEP VAN, BABY!
(If you're walking SF...we're gonna have STUFF in the van for you. Cookies and candy and pins and temporary tattoos and the biggy...real Gatorade powder.)
Oh, and I'll be wearing these:
I have no shame.
 |
| Last year...I still like this picture... |
This year, I had the sense to get sick ahead of time. I'm just kind of half holding my breath, hoping that I don't have a flare up between now and Monday morning. Well, I don't want one after that, either, but I don't want to screw it up the 3 Day this time around.
It's not just me that gets hosed if I get sick. It hoses DKM and takes a van out of the lineup, and it's not like there are 25 vans in operation.
I feel decent, though, so it's really just one of those please don't let it happen things. My real concern should be fatigue, because I'm still a litte tired a lot of the time, but it's not like I'm going to be on my feet all the time. I'll be on my asterisk most of the time, a position I am quite comfortable with.
This will be my first time crewing; I'm very excited about it, and quite hopeful that I won't run anyone over.
I can always blame DKM if I do. I'll find a way.
After this weekend is over, I just have to get through the 19th (colonoscopy...fun, fun, fun) and then I'll train to walk those miles I missed in July, when I couldn't do the Avon walk. In either October or November, I'll go back to San Francisco (because WHY NOT?!?!) and spend a couple of days walking. You guys donated so that I could do that in July...so I'll be a little late, but it'll still be fun.
But until then... ROCK THE PICK SWEEP VAN, BABY!
(If you're walking SF...we're gonna have STUFF in the van for you. Cookies and candy and pins and temporary tattoos and the biggy...real Gatorade powder.)
Oh, and I'll be wearing these:
I have no shame.
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