Sunday, July 27, 2008

Bonk!

Yesterday, I bonked. I bonked bad. I've had times where I've "bonked," had to stop and get my bearings, put my head down for a bit. But yesterday I was in bad shape--pull over, put my head down and I hope I don't pass out or puke shape.

Of course, it was my own fault. I went off in the height of the day. In July. In Arizona. With no food. I took off on my bike to do some geocaching and figured I'd bike around to find some caches and then hike up one of the trails in the state park to check on one of my own caches. So I ended up biking for a little over an hour and then headed up to the state park. It wasn't a long hike, about a mile in and a mile out. Going in was the hard part, since it was all uphill and it was high noon with no shade. Still, so far, so good.

On the last cache I made a logistical error that I thought would get me closer to the cache by bike and shorten the hiking part of it, but, as I said, I was mistaken. I ended up going back to the site of the first clue for that cache. At that time I thought I would stop at Starbucks and get a recharge of some kind. All I ate for breakfast was half an english muffin with peanut butter. I didn't bring any food with me and only water to drink. Not too bright.

I went back to the first clue. I hiked across the wash and up a hill to get the main cache of this two part find. I made it back to the bike and, since we had plans for the evening, decided I had better head home. I was going to go right by that Starbucks again and figured I should get some energy in me, either a straight sugary coffee drink, a muffin, both, whatever. But I thought, hey, I'm less than four miles from home and I have plenty of water left. Save a few bucks and some time and just head home. I was feeling fine, after all.

The next half mile was up a hill. Not a drastic hill by any means, but it was uphill, certainly. All of a sudden, at the top of the hill I felt wiped out. Just dog tired. And hot. I turned onto the road I needed to take and pulled over to the side to catch my breath, get my system calmed down a bit, and have another drink. The next couple of miles would be a series of rollers. I ended up mostly coasting on the downhills and stopping at the top of each climb, feeling worse with each one.

The last mile would take me nearly twenty minutes. I stopped four or five times. The third to the last stop was about the worst. I was ready to black out at the top of the hill and when I stopped and put my head down I thought I was going to vomit. I'm not sure how long I stood there, but it was a while.

I made it home and turned the hose on my head to cool down. I went in and managed to mix up a protein shake and I sat down and drank that. In a short time I was feeling much better. With some calories in me and a nice cool environment, I recovered rather well. After a shower I was well on my way. We went to The Dark Knight (a great movie, by the way) and we bought a bag of popcorn and I had, for the first time in a long time, a pop. I had Pibb Xtra. I have no idea what the "Xtra" is, but I assume it's sugar and caffeine. Yeah, it was a bit sugary, but I think between the salty popcorn and the sugary drink I was getting just what I needed.

Anyway, it's stupid to go off for four or more hours in the middle of summer in the middle of the day without taking care of your nutrition needs. Bring food or stop and buy some. I had no excuses. I didn't bring anything, but there were a few places I could have stopped for a bite to eat, or even just a Gatorade or some such thing. But I didn't. Don't be like me. Think before you head out. Take care of yourself. If I had been out in the middle of nowhere on a solo bike tour or a solo hike or some such thing and I wasn't prepared I would have been in real trouble. I was lucky to have this happen so close to home.

Get out and do whatever it is you do, but be careful and be prepared.

And don't forget to reapply your sunblock!

Friday, July 25, 2008

Beets!


Beets often terrify me. I don't mean to say that I have an irrational fear of beets, because that isn't the case. I don't tremble in the produce department. I don't struggle to hide tremors of terror as I rush my cart past the cans of beets—pickled, sliced, diced, or whole—in the canned vegetable aisle. I don't make the sign of the cross, the evil eye, or any other superstitious act of protection when I walk past a garden that may or may not have beets stealthily growing in some dark and mysterious corner. No, what ends up scaring the bejeesus out of me, nearly every time it so happens, is what happens after I have eaten beets. And digested them.

The first time I was concerned. I looked into the bowl of the commode and there was a string of red in the water coming from...you know, and there were specks of red, too. In the next “movement” the whole stool was red and I was really concerned. I figured I would wait one day and then go to the doctor. That night I had one that was more purple than red and I realized, what the hell, it was beet juice! I had enjoyed a lot of beets and the coloring was working its way through my system. A relief and a good laugh.

Well, time goes by and you forget these things. I did, anyway. The other day I made some fresh beets along with some stewed beet and dandelion greens with garlic. Yummy. But, there, the next morning, my fears returned. I had colon cancer. My intestines were rotting and falling apart in my body. My stomach wall was shredding. I had internal bleeding. You name it. I stared in horror.

And then I remembered: Oh, yeah. Beets.

Sunday, July 13, 2008

Brackish

I'm the first to admit that there are times when I'm less than anal where bathing is concerned. Some days a good face washing and maybe swipe at the hair seems quite adequate. Some days I wake up feeling grimy as hell and nothing short of a good scalding will suffice. But often a quick shower amounting to little more than a good rinsing is the extent of my morning bath. Soap up the head and let the runoff do the rest. Rinse, dry, we're good.

This morning I went on a bike ride and then took my touring bike to the grocery store for some shopping. I got home and started putting together the big lunch for the kids. When everyone showed up I decided I had better rinse some of the stink off of me and headed off to the shower.

I thought today would be a "trickle down" clean up. Wash the hair and let the suds clean on the way down...that sort of thing. But then I looked down and noticed a brackish stream flowing away from my feet. Now, I know what brackish means. I know it's not what I mean here. It doesn't mean a blacky browny color, a color water flowing from your body should not have. But, hey, this is my blog and today brackish is a blacky browny color, a color water flowing from your body should not have. (And, yes, I know blacky and browny are acceptable names for dogs but not adjectives.)

Anyway, once I saw the dirt stream flowing from my feet (I was wearing sandals while riding, so that's not too unexpected, is it?) I decided to take a full on soap up everything and scrub it down approach. With everyone coming over I certainly didn't want to come out of the shower and still have everyone think I'm a sweaty, salty, unpleasant mess. Wait. Salty. Unpleasant. Fetid. Stale. Distasteful. Hmm. Maybe brackish is the right word after all!

Saturday, July 12, 2008

MedicAlert?

Returning from a recent trip to Michigan, my luggage was routed to London Heathrow and held up in customs. No suitcase for me for three days! The main problem with this is that I had decided to stick my CPAP machine in my checked bag instead of carrying it on with me. Oops. But, finally, at 1:08 in the Ante Meridiem, my bag showed up on the front porch and all was well and accounted for.

The day before my luggage was returned I was talking to my mother. My sister-in-law had a mild stroke and we were discussing her condition. We talked about my brother's poor health, my mother's ailments, her husband's ailments, and so on. This is the general course of our conversations: Ailments and the shortcomings of my siblings. I suspect it's the same conversation my brothers and sisters have with her, just with a few name changes.

Eventually we got around to my trip. Since I had been to Michigan, where I'm from, the inevitable end of the conversation was wondering why I haven't visited her in the middle of nowhere, Raccoon, Kentucky. As usual, I deflected it with the assertion that she is welcome to come visit us any time at all, but never has. Round and round until I mentioned my lost luggage.

Lost luggage is a fascinating thing, especially when it ends up in a different country. When I mentioned that the only reason I was really concerned about the luggage was because my CPAP was in it, I had to explain what a CPAP was, a breathing machine eventually cleared it up. Turns out my sister-in-law had one for a while. Maybe. That depends on how well my mother understood what I was talking about.

I had to explain why I need it, that I have sleep apnea. We went back and forth as I explained, and re-explained that sleep apnea means you stop breathing in your sleep and then end up snuffling and snorting and jolting yourself (and usually whoever is in bed with you at the time) awake. The CPAP blows a gentle stream of air down your nasal passage and keeps your airway open, allowing you to sleep peacefully. It takes a bit of getting use to, but once you use it for a while, you wonder why you didn't get one sooner. It makes a big difference. You're less tired during the day. You're more alert. You find yourself actually remembering things you would have forgotten before. And, in my case, I'm sure Joan likes it a lot more than even I do because it allows her to sleep through the night without me waking her with my obnoxious restlessness, tossing and turning, and breathing issues. As an added bonus, the quiet whisper of the air from the machine acts as white noise that helps her sleep even more. I can go to bed and sleep through the night and never even really move during the night. It works pretty well.

We talked a while more about my grandchildren. (Weird. I have grandchildren.). She wants some more pictures. My brother has a computer and the internet so he gets to see all of the photos I post on the web using Picasa. He tells her about them. She thinks I'm sending him photos and wants to know when I'm going to send her some. So I'll be spending some time printing out photos for my mother.

And then she says, "So, do you wear a bracelet?"

A bracelet? What the hell is she talking about? Now, non-sequitors are not unusual in these conversations, but this one is a bit out there. "A bracelet? Why would I wear a bracelet? What are you talking about?"

"You know, a medical bracelet."

"You mean a MedicAlert bracelet?"

"Yeah."

"For what?"

"You know, in case you fall asleep somewhere."

I kid you not. This was her line of thinking. If I use a CPAP I might fall asleep somewhere and not wake up or some such thing.

"I don't have narcolepsy! It's sleep apnea. I'm not going to just fall asleep somewhere and lay there until someone finds me."

But then again, given my history of when and where I have fallen asleep, maybe she's not so far off the mark. Maybe I should look into it. Maybe they have a bracelet that reads something like If found sleeping, make comfortable and leave be. Have a tasty treat available upon waking. Yeah, there just might be something to this after all.

Friday, July 4, 2008

Grrl Power Poem?

Maybe I'm developing another personality. Maybe I've been possessed by Judy Blume (who, I believe, is not dead). All I know is I woke up with this in my head, in exactly this form, clear as the tolling of that proverbial bell:

I could write a pretty poem, too.
If I was more like my sister.
If I was less like my friends.
Yak. Yak. Yak.
Beautiful girl. Beautiful girl.
Yes, I am.