~true confession time~

 Well friends, I think it's time to do a little "change-up" in the way that I take care of my body.  The handwriting has been on the wall for a long, long time. " Peggy Miller" was just too stubborn to read it and then do the right thing.  Today is as good a day as any to let go of a bad habit....true confession time.


Today, as I was heading back home from my therapy appointment in Wichita, I was sipping on a diet cola that I'd bought on my way out of town after school.  After sitting inside my pickup for the better part of an hour, it was only "marginally" cold to drink.  That didn't seem to matter to me-out of sheer habit, I just kept on guzzling it.  As I drank it, I realized that it was actually the fourth serving of diet pop that I had today...THE FOURTH!  Except for the two cups of coffee that I "downed" before going to school this morning, I had given my body NO other liquids.....only coffee and pop.   And friends, that is not good!


Hey, can I have a show of hands here?  How many of you don't like to drink water?  Yep, I knew there were some of you out there!  I don't know how to explain it, but I hate to drink water!  There is NOTHING more unappealing to me than a glass of water to drink.  I almost have to make myself drink it....and that's no exaggeration.  And foolishly, for many years now, I have substituted diet pop and coffee for water.  My body has undoubtedly suffered for it and I am now paying the ultimate price for my lack of discretion.


I grew up in a restaurant and  one cool thing about having parents who own a restaurant is free and easy access to the pop machine!  Our parents never tried to stop us from drinking pop at any meal we had.  This was in the '70s, long before diet pop was even a choice for anyone to order.  Our taste buds were accustomed to that sugary drink.  We thought absolutely nothing of it!


As I got older, and into high school and college, I lost my taste for the sugary kind of pop but immediately became enamored with diet-colas.  My earliest remembrances of purchasing diet soda was when Mom sent me to Kiker's IGA in Haven to buy a carton of 6 bottles of Diet Pepsi.  Guys, that diet pepsi was sweetened with sodium cyclamate...later shown to be quite harmful to those who ingested it.  And since there were no calories, nothing stopped me from having all that I wanted.  As time went on, I continued drinking them and I always would forego drinking enough or for that matter, ANY water.  Only during the 3 times I was pregnant with my children, did I ever go off pop completely.  But seems like always, that FIRST meal in the hospital after their births would have to include a diet pop.  My abstinence only lasted so long and I was "off the wagon" and back on diet-pop drinking sprees again!  ( I did try to "give up" pop during the Lenten season several times...that didn't do so well.)


Even though I already knew it, I came home and went online to look up the dangers of drinking pop in regards to healthy bones.  What I read was no surprise to me--good friends have been giving me the same "stern" warning for years now.  I guess I just had to finally come to the realization myself.  You may already know this, but if you don't, here's what I found about pop consumption-ALL summed up in two simple sentences:


THERE IS NOTHING IN SODA POP THAT IS GOOD FOR YOU-NOTHING!  THE MAIN CULPRIT, PHOSPHOROUS, ROBS THE BONES OF THEIR STRENGTHENING AGENT, CALCIUM.  AMEN AND END OF THE SERMON....


So, here I stand before you all and pronounce myself "guilty" of over indulging in soda pop, time and time again, day in and day out.  The time has come to say "enough"and to try, at least for the next 30 days, to quit drinking pop "cold turkey".  I'd like to try and make it until October 26th, my 56th birthday, without the daily indulgence in soda pop.  Will I make it?  I don't know-but for the sake of my bones, I'd better be willing to give it an honest effort.  


A couple of thoughts on my trip to therapy today and the ever grueling work out that Kim assigns me to do......I'm awfully glad that no one takes a photo of what I must look like when I try to do all the exercises he shows me.  I'm betting that my face has kind of a "perpetual scowl" on it-if not, I'd be surprised.  Some of them just downright don't feel good at all....yet if I want to get better, and I do, then I've got to be able to put up with a little discomfort.  I find myself not even breathing as I do them and that's not a good plan.  It only feels worse that way!  "Breathe", I remind myself all the time. 


Kim routinely measures the improvements that my left hand and wrist have made since last visit.  Sometimes there is noticeable improvement and I can tell by his face that I've done better.  Other times, when I hear him say "Is that the best you can do?", I realize that I've got to try a little harder, dig a little deeper, to improve my status from last time.  Today there were a couple of things I'd gone backwards on but there were also things where an improvement, (even if small), has been seen.  And as long as I can see a little improvement, then I'm continuing on. 


 Yesterday, for the first time in 8 weeks now, I was able to put on a necklace that has a clasp to deal with.  I had to work at it for a while and I wasn't sure that even after I got it securely in place that I would be able to "unclench" my fingers!  LOL, but I did.  Last week, for the first time in 2 months, I was able to hang clothes out on the line using BOTH hands.  "Old-lefty" hadn't forgot what to do and man, was that ever easier than the way I'd had to do it before now!  :)


Wait a minute guys, BRB.......


Well, I just poured the last of the pop I got at Wendy's for supper down the drain and for the next 30 days it's gonna be different.  And as I pause to think about taking better care of my bones, I am soberly reminded that my body is also taking care of another person's bone-Eleanor. Giving up sodas would sure seem to be the least I can do.   Wish me luck, 'cause I'm sure going to need it.  I still refuse to give up!

              Hasta la vista, Diet Pepsi!  I have known you far too well, my friend!  Sigh....

Time to turn in the homework!

Well, here we are 12 hours later.  If you read my last post, I asked each of you to do a little homework...I asked you to "meditate" on what would be the one thing you'd like to do in life but hadn't done yet.  Have you thought of something or do you need a little more time?  The really GOOD thing about this homework is that there is NO right or wrong answer....only what you believe the correct answer to be.  Can't beat that, can you?


Three of my Facebook friends/family have already emailed me with their idea of what they would choose.  I won't identify anyone by name but out there among you all is a person who wants to learn to speak Spanish, another who wishes to return to graduate school, and yet another who wants to be in a marathon someday.  Those are very achievable "bucket list" goals and I commend them for their good ideas!  That's how any good "bucket list" starts as far I am concerned.....one thought that builds upon yet another thought.  


Friends, in one month I will turn the "ripe old age" of 56.  My days have flown by so quickly and each successive year seems to pass by faster than the one before it.  I sense the urgency within myself to do what I can to live each day to its fullest. 


 My "bucket list" has been revised three times since its inception in March of this year.   Several things have already been accomplished, others have been removed because they just aren't as important as I once thought they were.  The 10 remaining ones are those that I can "live with", kind of a weird way to look at a list that gets its name from dying.  Those ten are shown below-really in no particular order.


1.  To travel to Maine and see a lighthouse.
2.  To learn how to sew something.
3.  To return to swimming lessons at the YMCA.
4.  To continue to reconnect with family members all over the United States.
5.  To meet all of my Facebook friends in person and buy them something to drink.
6.  To power parachute once again.
7.  To be able to drive to Wichita without using Onstar.
8.  To be able to help a complete stranger for the good as many times as I can.
9.  To learn to drive a "standard".
10.To never let my bucket go empty....remembering my good friend's advice.... You cannot kick a full bucket.


There may be a few of those items that will have to wait until Dr. Chan dismisses me from his care in late October.  For the most part though, I should be good to go on most of the others.  The list gives me a place to start, a reason to "refocus" and begin anew.  
  
If any of you out there reading this have a bucket list of your own, I'd love to see it.  Even if you have only one thing on it, that's a start!  If you will allow an "old timer" (that'd be me...) to give you some friendly advice, here's what it would be....DO NOT take this life for granted--I have done so. DO NOT put off what you should be doing now in life thinking that you'll try it next year--none of us are guaranteed any amount of time here on earth.  Live each day as if it was the very last one you had...good advice for me and you.


I'm remembering my mom this evening as I type this blog.  4 years ago, September 25, 2007, she was called back to her home in Heaven.  A room full of kids and grand kids were there as she slipped away from us.  I swear to you, that room was filled with angels and I'm positive my mom saw them.  She kept looking, in the hours prior to her death, into the southeast corner of the ceiling....so if you want to know the direction of Heaven...I'm guessing she saw it there. 


Mom had just celebrated her 87th birthday 13 days prior, on September 12th.  She was "ready to go" just waiting on her time to be done here.  Those 87 years were packed full of love and devotion for family, surely some heartache, as well as some beautiful memories.  Mom didn't have a bucket list, at least an official one.  But I'm sure she'd be glad to know that I do.  Probably she'd be telling me to get a "move on"...that I was trading daylight for dark.  


And Mom, that's just what I intend to do!  :)

This panel above shows Mom's best friend, Connie.  They did lots of traveling together to different places around the country.  They always wanted to go to Vegas but never got to.  Oh boy, if they  would have.......   Heaven help us all!  :)

Our Mom, Lois Scott-       September 12, 1920-September 25, 2007        Rest In Peace Mom

I Think It's Gonna Be A Long, Long Time......

Three phrases that Peggy Miller seems to hear a lot these days.....


"Be patient.  It's going to take time."
"It's not been THAT long.  It's going to take time."
"There is no way to hurry the healing.  It's going to take time."


AHEM...do you see an underlying pattern here?  I figured you would!  The 5 words that I LEAST wish to hear, IT'S-----GOING-----TO-----TAKE-----TIME, are finally starting to sink in.  And the truth, well, the truth is, I don't like it and I wish it would go away.  But it's 4:43 in the morning as I write this, and guess what?  When I opened my eyes at 4 a.m. and started today's pot of coffee, IT hadn't "gone away"....it was still here.  So now, to learn to live with it a whole lot longer.....


Yesterday was my 3rd visit to Wichita in order to work on physical therapy.  Hey, I have to say this, right off the "get go",  yesterday's visit wasn't all that fun, in fact a couple of parts of it down right hurt, badly. But even if it does hurt, this I know--- Kim is an excellent physical therapist who  knows what he's doing and I'm so thankful he is helping me.  


The routine parts of his "work out" of my arm, hand, and wrist are not so bad.  The nice things like measuring my fingers to check on the swelling, putting a piece of silicone material over my scar to help it look "friendly not angry", etc. are very tolerable.  He takes the time to answer my questions  and that is something I really appreciate in health-care providers.


Today, as I looked at the x-rays for a more definite answer as to why I'm having so much trouble with rotating my hand to a palm-up position became clearer to me.  I really DID mess up the wrist--all those bones were definitely NOT where God intended them to be.  In fact, they were SO not where their original position was.  Those phrases, "it looks like a bomb went off in there", "it looks like a grenade got tossed in there", and "kind of looks like someone took a hammer and started pounding in there" were obviously quite appropriately used.  I thought I might be discouraged to finally figure it out.  But actually, just the opposite happened.  I continue to be more determined than I am afraid.


The tough part of physical therapy, the very grueling exercises that hurt like the dickens sometimes, are a necessary part of getting well again.  Each time I go, Kim the "Taskmaster" evaluates my improvement from the previous visit.  Yesterday he challenged me, saying "Is that all you can do?"  This is where that strength from deep inside your belly comes in....and every time he asked me that very thought provoking question, I gritted my teeth and somehow found a little more inside me.  


I used to very foolishly take a lot of pride in the fact that I could "outride" most all of my friends on a bike.  People riding with me would often say "geesch, you go too fast, slow down 'cause I can't keep up with you."  I was never really happy with any of my rides unless the bike computer said that I had ridden with at LEAST an average speed of 12 mph.  And if I didn't ride at least 10 miles a day, I considered myself a slacker.  What an idiot I can be!  :)


Friends, Peggy Miller has "bigger fish to fry" these days--my main goal, my "ultimate" athletic feat is to make "old lefty's" wrist move a teeny-tiny bit more each and every day.  For me, being able to work hard enough to make the wrist even half-ways normal again will be the equivalent of riding my bike around the world.  And I mean it-it's gonna take THAT much work.  But I CHOOSE to get better and until that choice changes for me, I 'd better quit bellyaching and get with it, yesterday already.


OK friends, here's the "teacher" in me coming out-I have an assignment for you and it's due by the time I write my next post.  The whole original intent and purpose of this blog was to chronicle my "bucket list" journey for this year of 2011.  I had come up with my list of 10 things that I wished to do before I "kicked the bucket".  Prior to August 4th, I'd been doing a pretty good job of crossing things off that list.  Then the accident happened and life changed dramatically for me.  Now I believe it's time for me to get back to working on things from the list as I continue to heal up.  Today I'm going to be thinking about what 10 things I can now place on a new list....things that I can do with "old lefty's" current condition.  August 4th was 7 weeks in the past and all those days are gone now. 


 Knowing that I have at least months and months and months more of physical therapy ahead of me helps to me to realize just how big of a chunk of life I'll be devoting to getting better.  I can't afford to wait until I'm as healed as I can be in order to return to the bucket list.  I'm getting closer to Heaven every day--maybe I'll have 30 years more to work on it, maybe only 30 days.  Since I don't know the real answer, then I'm making the choice to use every day left in my life as wisely as I can.


Friends, here it is-your homework assignment:


Think of one thing, just one, that you really want to do-the thing you've dreamed of but kept putting off until another time.  Have you had a great desire to go fishing in Minnesota and spend some time away from computers and cell phones and bosses who call you non-stop?  Kind of hard to tip your fishing pole in the water unless you actually GO.  Have you been dreaming about going back to college and getting your degree?  You  just keep putting it off waiting for a better time to do it?  What time do you think THAT is going be?  Friends, think of ANYTHING...restoring an old car, learning how to dance or play the piano, reading a best-seller, buying a motorcycle, changing jobs, moving to a place you always wanted to, visiting a place you've never been to, meeting your childhood pen-pal for the first time, reconnecting/making amends with a family member or friend that you've been estranged from, learning how to jump a curb on your bicycle..  (hey, scratch that idea-it doesn't work)  What ever it is that you choose, just ask yourself the question..."What is stopping me?"  Chances are, the only thing stopping you from doing it, is really just yourself.  


Ok, guys, get cracking on that homework.  I'll be back to do a little progress monitoring later on today.  Have a great weekend all of you-I feel very blessed this day.  :)
  

Learning to be strong again!

Technology and I are NOT getting along today.  I only wanted the video to be at the bottom-couldn't figure out how to delete the copy at the top.  I need one of my 10-year old students to show me how!  :)  I guess you get to watch it "twice".  LOL


Heading back, ONE MORE TIME,  to the "land of miracles" this afternoon.  It's been two weeks now since my cast came off and the very "fashionable" neon pink splint was put in place.  Although I am sure that some improvement has happened, the recovery process is so painfully slow.  I wanted to be much better by now and in my impatience I have learned that my idea of timing is much different than God's idea is.

Speaking honestly, I do know that some improvements have happened.  They are little ones, so little that only I know they even exist.....but they are there.  I believe that my range of motion to the wrist is probably at about 35% which is way better than it was 2 weeks ago.  My incisions look as if they have healed quite nicely and I continue to massage the scar so that scar tissue doesn't build up and cause more problems.

  I am typing pretty dang good, well except for the pinky that has a heck of a time with determining that the "caps lock" key is NOT the "shift key".  But other than that, I'm kind of back to normal on the typing part of life.  Mrs. Hendrix, my Typing I and II teacher from my days at Haven High School would be very proud of me!  LOL

The swelling looks much as it did 2 weeks ago when then cast came off.  Even though I am disappointed in the fact that it hasn't gone down, I know that overall there has been a major improvement since 5 weeks ago.  It was then that I looked at my arm for the first time since the accident and couldn't believe its grotesquely swollen appearance.

 Although I haven't given up hope yet, at times I catch myself thinking that this may be as good as it's gonna get. I'm guessing I'll get the "verdict" from Kim the Taskmaster today as I go in for my second round of physical therapy.  If I was a "betting" person, I'd be placing mine on having to actually see physical therapists instead of doing my own.  Really, I think it's time.

I can't believe the lack of strength in "old lefty" but why would I be surprised, given the fact that for the better part of the last 7 weeks, it's been basically "on holiday".  Now it's being asked to rejoin the ranks of working body parts and it's not too thrilled about those prospects.  Although I am trying to slowly encourage activities that give the left hand/arm a workout, I still have trouble holding on to a piece of paper with the left hand.  At first it was embarrassing to not be able to hold onto my students' work at school....now I just take it in stride and remember that the kids understand.

I continue to be grateful for the many "teachable moments" that I've been blessed with in this ordeal.  A couple of days ago, I was working with a group of students at school, talking about writing.  We were using one of my blog pages and I was hoping that if I shared my thoughts with them that they would make the connection that writing was fun.  I decided to read the paragraph in which I spoke of my left thumb refusing to bend at the joint.

All of a sudden, without any prompting from me, that crazy thumb begin to move-AT THE JOINT!  It was the strangest thing--but then I shouldn't be surprised because most of my life during these past weeks has been strange.  LOL  I dropped the paper I was reading from and just looked at it, mouth open.  The kids were looking at me too and they realized what was happening.

After what seemed like a lifetime of trying to stare down that thumb and make it move at the joint with NO success, I could now begin to really slowly make it happen.  Now realize, it's not like it was doing "aerobics" or anything like that.  But a teeny, tiny movement happened at the joint for the first time in over 7 weeks.  I said to that great group of students---"Fifth graders, I think you are all miracle workers!"  And then I cried....

You know this is the second time that I've cried in front of my students as I've went through this recovery process.  The first was that stupid sticker ordeal--you remember the one where I foolishly tried to peel stickers off for my first graders?  And that wasn't going so good....And now this time.  It was bad enough to shed a tear in front of 6-year olds.  But when you are dealing with kids fast approaching the teenage years, well that's kind of a different story.  I thought to myself, "Peggy, get it together!  These guys don't need to see this."  But I was so very wrong.....

We grown ups SO underestimate what kids are capable of thinking and feeling and being ready for in this life.  That group of 10 and 11-year olds had a lot of compassion for me, their teacher.  They knew how hard it has been for me to go through this.  Those kids, and any other kid at our school, would stand ready to do whatever was needed for me or for any other person anytime, any day.  It was actually a tender moment when one of them got a kleenix for me and everyone said "It's OK Mrs. Miller."  And you see why I say that I have the greatest job on earth?!  :)

I'm learning how to be strong again, in so many ways.  And I'm not talking about "brute strength", but rather the strength that comes from "deep inside the belly."  Sometimes we really have to be "humbled", brought to tears, just like at school...before we realize how very strong we already are. I thank that group of 5th graders who "lifted me up" this week and will continue to do so in the days ahead.

It's time to get ready to go to a job I love, teaching kids, so I'd better get moving!  Have a great Friday, September 23, 2011.  It IS a great day to be alive!  Remember to thank God for all of your blessings, my friends!  You all are the dearest of people to me!

I'M FEELING STRONGER EVERYDAY.....

Hey, I guess I HAVE come a long way since this photo was taken.  :)

Take a look at the "miraculous" thumb of "old lefty".  It's not much, but you gotta start somewhere friends!  :)

LIVING LIFE TO ITS FULLEST

I saw them today for the first time since late April.  There they were, walking in the "underground tunnel" at Hutchinson Hospital and the moment they saw me, they shouted out a greeting...."Hey, where have you been?  We thought you'd 'fallen off the wagon' ." As I stopped to greet them for a moment, I explained that I'd fallen off a "little bit more" than the wagon.


You know I can't even tell you their names but the 3 of us had been seeing one another pretty much non-stop every day from January until the end of April.  It was always bright and early...way before the crack of dawn.  They always beat me there and no matter how hard I tried, when I walked into the tunnel at 5 a.m., they had already done a couple of laps already.  


The surprising thing about them, at least to me, was the fact that they told me once their ages.  At an age where many of their peers had already found themselves in nursing home care, these two women, in their early 90's, were out there every morning, "picking them up and putting them down."  And they couldn't be any happier.  


When we passed by one another, you could always see them laughing and smiling and carrying on as if they were a couple of 7th grade girls deciding which boys in the 3rd hour Algebra class were the cutest.  And I always thought, "Man, I hope I grow up just like them!"  They enjoy life to the fullest. 


 It doesn't matter how long it takes them to do their 2-mile walk each day....what does matter is that they continue to do it, day in and day out.  And TODAY, they read me the "riot act" for being gone so long.  And I hang my head in shame, they well should have.  I deserved it.  LOL


Those two women inspire me every time I see them out there, walking their legs off.  I told them so once and they looked at me with surprise.  I'll never forget what they said....  "Well, THAT must be the reason we are still here for.  You know, we've been wondering!"  


As I prepare for my Friday return to the "land of miracles", I keep thinking of those two women.  Although you'd never hear them complain, I have to think that they have their fair share of aches and pains.  But they both appear smart enough to know that if you don't "use it then you will lose it" and they are not taking any chances.  Way to go ladies!  You are my heroes!


My physical therapy continues to be done by me here at home.  On Friday, "Kim the Taskmaster" is going to re-evaluate my condition and make the determination if I need to see PT therapists here in Hutch.  I am not sure what his verdict will be, but I'm guessing there's a chance he will suggest it.  The picture below shows the current condition of "old lefty" side-by-side to the right arm.  The difference is easily determined.  Not a pretty  sight but one that I have come to accept these days.

My main goal has been to continue working on getting the wrist to completely lay over, so that my palm is up.  It doesn't seem to be wanting the same things I do.  But I keep trying and trying and trying.  And sometimes I wonder if this is what the doctor meant when he said before surgery in Wichita, "You don't expect to have a normal wrist again, do you?"  I guess we'll find out sooner or later.


Most of the hand is still numb and even though the thumb is moving, it still can't remember how to bend at the joint.  And I find myself sitting there and looking at it trying to get it to bend.  No matter how hard I try, doesn't seem like I can stare it down long enough to "will it" to make its move.  Swelling continues, no amount of contrast baths seem to make a difference.  Yet, I am still more determined than I am afraid, and have NOT given up, even though sometimes it seems like it would be the only sane thing to do.


I have had some wonderful teachable moments at school in the past couple of days.  Some of the kids have asked to see what it looks like so I've removed the splint for them to take a peek.  You know kids have some great questions and in their innocence, they mean no harm by asking any of them.  I try to answer as best I can and if I don't know the answer, I try to find out.  I always figure that the best way to answer their curiosity is to be honest and open.  If you give a kid the straight answer then they don't get the wrong idea about things like this.  We sometimes underestimate just exactly what kids can understand.  The bottom line is this-they appreciate our being honest with them....they've got that figured out at a very early age.


Time for bed friends-Take care of yourselves and please remember to enjoy this wonderful life that we've all been given.  It's so short, way too short.  Live it to the fullest each and every day....  Good Night All!  :)  

Today is as good a day as any--

I have learned all too well in the past few years what the term "bittersweet" really means.  As we completed the ALS walk in Wichita this morning, I was beginning to feel THAT kind of feeling all over again.  Guess it probably didn't help that the day was cloudy and dreary or that the last time I was at "The Waterfront" was to ride my bike.  There's a lot of time to think as you walk the route--something that I seemed to do a great deal of when I was riding my bike all over creation just a couple of months ago.


It was a good feeling to be walking in remembrance of my brother, Mike.  There were a whole lot of others there walking in memory of their own friends and family members.  Along the 3-mile route, signs were posted with names and sometimes photos of people who have died from ALS and were being remembered today.  It was especially touching to find folks stopping along the way and standing by the sign of their loved one.   This year we had to go only halfway through the route in order to find Mike's sign.  Here we are!

Mike's wife, Paula with his son, Christopher, and I at his sign along the route--


It was a special moment, if even ever so brief, to once again be connected to him in some fashion or another.  Every other family that was walking today undoubtedly had similar feelings in their hearts.  When it was over and everything said and done, all of us went home and back to the lives that each of us lead every single day. 


 We will remember them all but the reality is that those who are left still have to go about the business of "living".  I remember hearing once this quote-- "You do not honor the dead by dying with them." How very true and appropriate this is.  I know Mike would have wanted all of us to go on....and that is what we have done.  And we didn't go on in disrespect to his memory but rather with respect to what he REALLY wished for us all.


Today as I walked the path, I kind of came to "peace" with something that has been a little bit unnerving to me, something that during the last few days, I've thought about NOT doing.  It's been 6 long weeks since I sat on my bike.  It's been safely tucked into the new trainer just patiently waiting for me to get back on.


But to be honest, I've been scared to death to even try hopping up on the seat again, let alone making the pedals go.  At one point last week, I even debated about trying to sell the bike online and take up another hobby.  I was afraid to get hurt again, really afraid. So what IF I didn't make 2,000 miles this year?  It doesn't make me a "lesser" person", I had been trying to convince myself.


 But on the way back home today, I had time to think about all of the names that I read on those signs this morning, each one of them belonging to someone who no  longer would have the opportunity to do the very thing that I was so willing to give up on.  At that precise moment in time, Saturday, September 17th, 2011 became a "Carpe Diem" kind of day!


It took a little doings and the help of my good friend and cycling cohort, Ron Ratzlaff, but the end result is shown below.  Today is the day that I got back on my bike --- and please don't worry about me.  This time if I fall, I promise to just fall straight for the couch.  Besides that, there's not ONE curb in my house.

                                                       6 very long weeks later


It had to happen some time, so why not now?  Looks like today is as good a day as any to start over.  Oh, and by the way...I did 1 mile today (LOL) so that only leaves 599 left to go by January 1, 2012.  Hey, IT can happen!


 Have a great evening family and friends and please don't forget to "seize the day" for yourselves.

I've been practicing for two weeks now to make the best "peace symbol" that I could with "old lefty"-this one's for you my brother!  I'm getting better all the time!

For my brother..... "Ditto"

 He gave me the first, last, and only Barbie doll I ever had.  That Christmas morning of 1964, I FINALLY got what every other little girl in the whole United States of America (or so I thought) already owned!  And I ripped off that paper with a smile on my face while he looked on, acting like what he had done was no big deal.  He was just that way.

3 years later, we would be delivering him to an airport runway in Wichita where he boarded a flight to a place they called "Viet Nam".  And the little "11-year old" girl that I used to be would cry and cry and cry for fear that he would never return home again.  But return he did, a year later, safe and sound to our family's farm back in south central Kansas.  We were blessed but there were plenty of other "little sisters" who were not so fortunate.

Years later, he would lend my date for the Tasmanian dance his ONLY vehicle in order that I might go out on my very first date.  He did it not only once, but three times more in the weeks that followed.  It was done with a no strings attached clause, without even so  much as a "be sure to fill that gas tank up again before you bring it back."  Not many brothers would do that for their kid sister, I was pretty sure.  But he did!

And on November 12, 2007, on a crisp and cool autumn morning, he passed away from a brief bout with ALS-Lou Gehrig's disease at his home in Haven, Ks.  He was my brother and I miss him......

For those of you who didn't have the chance to know him, this is my brother, Mike Scott.  This photo is one of my favorite of him, taken a few years before he died.  I can just close my eyes and see him sitting like this, arms folded, intent on the conversation at hand.  Sitting here, he surely puts me in mind of our dad, who also seemed more comfortable with arms folded.  Guess that's a "like father, like son" moment or something like that.

I have thought of Mike many times during the past few weeks, especially when the effects of my accident seem overwhelming to me.  I remember the struggle that he went through as he briefly battled a disease that I knew little about.  All of us, his wife, his children, and his brother and sisters got a crash course in "ALS 101."  It was a hard lesson to learn but we did.

For those of you not as familiar with the disease of ALS, I'm thinking pretty sure that Mike would be glad if I'd tell you a little bit about it.  You never know who you might  meet in this life that is affected by it--we sure never thought that our family would need to find out.  But, just goes to show you that we humans have no idea what lies in store for us in this life.  Probably a very, very good thing!

ALS stands for Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis and it sometimes just goes by the name of the very famous NY Yankee baseball player who succumbed to it at the very young age of 38, Lou Gehrig. It is a progressive disease whose victims have an average life expectancy of around 5 years, once the diagnosis is made. Some live longer and some live much less.  It is always fatal.

ALS is a progressive neurodegenerative disease. It affects  nerve cells in the brain and spinal cord by slowly degenerating them to the point that they no longer help send the brain the needed impulses for voluntary muscle movement and the power that those muscles can generate. Most of the time ALS symptoms show up in weakened limbs first and then progress onward to the point where swallowing and breathing capabilities are impaired.  Little by little, body part by body part, the disease eventually takes its victim's life.

In ALS victims, the mind remains extremely sharp and I know in my brother's case, he was keenly aware of all that he was going through.  Mike's journey through ALS was very brief--he passed away from it in less than a month from his official diagnosis at the KU Medical Center.  At the time, I remember so well how all of us couldn't believe that he could be gone so fast, with little time for any of us to be ready to say goodbyes.  In the months that followed, we learned more about ALS and how some of its victims linger on for years and years.  Time has a way of healing a little bit of the hurt and we now realize and accept how very fortunate he was to have not suffered any longer than he did.

Mike spent most of the last 4-6 weeks of life in hospitals in both Hutchinson and the KU Med Center in Kansas City.  His greatest wish was just to just get the heck out of the hospital and GO HOME!  Although it wasn't easy, his wife, Paula and children, Jessica and Christopher, found the way to make it happen for him.  On November 8th, after waiting for what would have probably seemed FOREVER, he left Hutch Hospital wearing his Denver Bronco t-shirt and cap-SMILING ALL THE WAY OUT THE DOOR.  A few days later he was gone.

Tomorrow several of his family members will be joining together with about a gazillion (translate that into a LOT) of other people to do the annual ALS-Keith Worthington Chapter Walk.  We'll all meet up in Wichita at the beautiful area they call "The Waterfront".  Walks like the one in Wichita are happening all over the U.S. in order that further awareness can be raised about the disease that took my brother's life and the lives of countless  others world-wide. Even though huge advancements are being made in the study of it, ALS will continue to take more lives at the very moment you read this.

If I could send him a message in Heaven, it would have to say this:

Dear Mike,
You would be happy to know that your memory and spirit are still very alive and well here on earth! Your last days were an inspiration to your family and friends and hey, I think  the whole town of Haven.  I admire you that you fought until the end and never really totally gave up. Talk about determination-I could sure use a whole lot more of that these days my brother!  May I continue to grow up to be just like you were!

When all of us walk tomorrow, each step that we take will be done in your memory and in remembrance of all the kindness that you showed to everyone, each day of your life.  Although I miss you, I will STILL NEVER wish for you to return as you were in those last few weeks.  Heaven is a wonderful place where no one has to worry about ALS or any other bad thing.  Wow, what a peaceful place that must be.....Until I see you there, peace to you my brother.  Love, Peggy

PS....by the way, "ditto"  :)

Mike's family at his "sign post" along the ALS Walk route last year in Wichita.

for the 10-year old living inside me

For the price of a 4-pack of Play Dough and 1 giant book of stickers (under $10 in all) I've decided to try to make "physical therapy" a whole lot more fun....and you remember the "10-year old" in me?  Well, she is thrilled beyond belief to have fun playing once again.  Take a look at my "neon" snowman, made totally with "old lefty", shown below.  I know she's not perfect and rather than a stove pipe hat (cause old lefty's not THAT good yet) she's just sporting a little beret.

To my good friend Dennis Ulrey, I would like to say, for the "record", that this is the only kind of snowman that Peggy Miller even likes to see!  But after the hot Kansas summer, I may end up changing the way that I look at winter.


Seriously, playing with play dough really seems to help the left hand, wrist and fingers.  It's painful but the longer I do it, the more good I see it doing.  And for under $3 a pack, it's actually pretty cheap therapy!  (and you can have the fun of being a "kid" again without anyone asking questions.)


As for those stickers, I'm going to keep practicing peeling off those things with my left hand until I can do it without crying.  LOL  


May be an "unorthodox" approach to physical therapy but I figure in my current condition, I've got nothing to lose!  Have a great evening family and friends.  I've GOT to get back to my play, oops, make that therapy.  :)

for the least of things

It's Wednesday-starting Day#6 without a cast.  Day #6 also marks Week #6 since this all started.  I wish I could say, "Hey, guess what?  I'm healed!" but that would be so far from the truth.  But this I CAN tell you, I am still trying.

I wondered what kind of lesson God would wish for me to learn from this whole "PEGGY MILLER IS GOING TO TRY TO JUMP THE CURB WITH HER BIKE" fiasco.  I'm starting to see one right now and once again, as a teacher-I am sure a slow learner!  

When the cast came off on Friday, it was a scary thing.  In fact, I almost wanted to say, "Put it back on.  I need it to protect me!" Although I was so thankful not to have to carry that heavy burden any longer, it DID provide me with a sense of security.  Now I would be faced with the possibility of someone running into me, an errant playground ball crashing into me at recess time.  The final words that Dr. Chan said to me as I left the office were, "Be careful  not to fall!" and he meant it.  

Since leaving my appointment Friday, I have been working diligently on all the exercises that Kim prescribed for me.  I do them 3 times a day, more if I can.  This I have to tell you, they are NOT fun!  In fact they are downright painful.  But I choose to get better so I do them anyway.  I've also been doing  "contrast baths", soaking the left forearm in very warm and then very cool water.  Wish I could tell you that it's really making a huge difference in the swelling.  But really, I don't see it yet.  Here's a photo of "old lefty" this morning.....6 weeks into the future from August 4th:

The doctor has a few concerns, with good reason, about the massive amount of swelling still in the wrist area.  That's why it is so important for me to keep up the regime of exercise and the contrast baths.  The range of motion in my wrist is probably about 25-35% of what it should be and I'm hoping to regain as much as possible.  I am not holding out for 100% and although I know that's not looking at it in the most optimistic way, I prefer to not have my hopes "dashed" when that doesn't happen.  My plan is to work very hard to get what I can back, but to be grateful in the end for what ever returns.  

You know how all of us are, right?  We just move right along life's path every day, taking for granted the wonderful and amazing bodies we are all given.  The lungs breath in and out and we don't have to worry about it.  Our hearts just keep on ticking and our blood knows just the path to take to keep us all alive and going.  Our eyes see, our ears hear even the softest of sounds.  And our hands give "high 5's" without even thinking about how to do it.  Folks, here's the where the lesson learned comes in.....

For the least, no I say for the VERY least of things I have learned to be, not ONLY thankful, but very cognizant of.  Things that I once took for granted, I now notice almost instantaneously.  I have had some improvements, and even though they are tiny in respect to the whole scheme of a working body, they mean "hope" for me.

  This morning I noticed for the first time that the thumb of "old lefty" has FINALLY left the "picket line" that it joined with my wrist.  It has decided that maybe it's time to get back to work.  I found this morning, almost accidentally, that my thumb can now flex enough to touch each of the fingers of the hand.  It's a bit of a stretch but I CAN DO IT! 

 I can use my left hand to cuff up the right side sleeve of my t-shirt.  I can now push a Dillon's cart with both hands instead of pulling it with the right hand.  The Dillon's workers are grateful for that-I've wiped out a couple of displays at the 5th Street Dillon's here in town with my wild, one-handed cart pulling style!  LOL  I can kind-of, sort-of use my left hand while driving and every light switch that I turn off or on is done left-handed.  See?  It's really not all bad!  Only seems as if it is!

The one thing that has improved that I truly am grateful for is that I can now use both hands to type again.  What a blessing!  I am nearly as fast and accurate as I was before August 4th.  Sure makes typing these blog pages so much easier.  I was grateful that my son, Grahame and my sister, Cindy helped me keep my blog going during the worst of times.  Just glad that I can now do most all of it on my own.  

As I look at the pages of this blog, even the ones way earlier than August 4th, it has been interesting to see the road that I've been on.  What innocently began as a way to chronicle my journey on the Bike Across Kansas this past June has now become my Bucket List journey.  Hey, I  say "thank you" that you care to choose reading this as well as my gratitude for the help and encouragement each of you so freely give to me and the others around you each day.

I've said that this has been the most expensive bike ride that Peggy Miller ever went on!  With hospital bills coming in daily (thanking God for BC/BS health insurance) it's easy to see that this hasn't just been a small issue to take care of.  Things will probably never be the same for "old lefty" but as my children, and many others have reminded me...I should be thankful to still have my arm with a hand attached to the wrist and 5 fingers that for the most part will try to do what is asked of them.  With a "lump in my throat" right now, I say they are exactly right!

Have a wonderful Wednesday my friends!  Take good care of yourselves-NO curb jumping by any kind of vehicle, ok?

anonymously

By the way, while we are on the subject of mysteries, I'm reposting one of the blog pages from June of this year.  In it, I wrote about receiving a mysterious letter from someone encouraging me to take swimming lessons at the local YMCA.  Whoever sent it went by the name "anonymous" and I never learned who it was.  Even my friend Cleta, the YMCA staffer who sent it to me in the mail for that anonymous person, refused to divulge any names.  Who ever you are, would you please be willing to kindly step forward and let me know who to thank?  :)  I dutifully went to all four lessons and I didn't cry, not even once.  I graduated to be a polliwog at the end of the 4 sessions.  You would have been proud of me.  When my arm is fully healed, I'll be returning back to the Y for more lessons.  I would just love to know who you were......For the "kick in the seat of the pants" that day, I have been most thankful.  I'm actually looking forward to the day in the near future where I can return to the water for the next level of swim lessons. Did I just say that??



~Swimming lesson repost~


Normally the mailman delivers some pretty ordinary stuff to my house each day.  You know, bills, junk mail, bills, a magazine or two, and oh, did I mention bills?  Today was no exception....my city of Hutch bill, my Verizon bill, an advertisement for Dish Network, and last but not least....an envelope with the return address:  716 East 13th St., Hutchinson, KS  67501.....home of our local Reno County YMCA.  Why in the heck did I get a letter from the YMCA?  Probably wrong person...but I opened to be sure.


There inside, folded neatly, was an application form with the heading, "Hutchinson YMCA, Private Swim Lessons."  And above that, in handwritten script, was the message: "Bucket List Item #4-You Can Do It!"  The sender of the message goes by the name "anonymous" so I have no idea who thought to send it to me.   But whoever they are, here is my message back to them.....


Dear Anonymous Friend,
Thank you for caring enough about me to go the trouble of sending me this letter.  Since you probably already know me very well, then you realize how scary this is to me.  I am afraid--and can already think of a thousand reasons why this is a BAD idea.


  Good thing that "private" lessons are offered because the fewer people that would see a 55-year old non-swimmer with anxiety issues of drowning, hop into the water, the better!  I could use the excuse that the cost ($56 for 4 half-hour lessons) is prohibitive but that's not an issue at this point. I am not sure that I even OWN a swimming suit so that means I'd have to go out and buy one and I HATE shopping for them....What will happen if I can't even remember the ONE part of swimming lessons, blowing bubbles in the water, that I DID pass back in 1965?  How humiliating to have to learn how to blow bubbles all over again!  And given enough time, I could probably give you at least a dozen more weak and lame excuses about why I can't learn to swim.


Item #4 on the "Miller Bucket List" is there because someone I consider to be very "near and dear" to me found out one day that I couldn't swim.  And he advised me, right then and there, that I needed to learn how swim well enough to save myself from drowning.  He said to "scratch" the idea of getting my first tattoo, save the money for a trip somewhere, and work on learning how to swim instead.  He believes I can do it and I guess now, whoever you are, well you believe it as well.


I have filled out the application with a thankful heart that at least they ONLY ask for an emergency contact person, not my next of kin.  That's a good sign, right?  The check for $56 is written out, tucked into the application, the envelope sealed.  It's Saturday afternoon and rather than mailing it to the YMCA, I am just going to drive it down there.  From my home on East 14th Street, I am less than a mile away.  I hadn't planned on doing this so quickly but while I have at least a bit of courage, I'm going for it.


I promise to let you know how I do.  Though I will probably never find out who you are, I will always have a gratitude filled heart for your belief in me.  Thank you for your kindness in giving me a much needed "kick in the seat of the pants."  I guess all of us need that from time to time.  I am certainly no exception.


As Always,  Peggy Miller


From the words of the angel, Tess...."No such thing as late.  Destiny always picks its own time."
"Chance disappears when you make a decision."


  

life's mysteries

2011 has been a strange year for me in so many ways. Lots of things happened, some good and some "not so much".  I've surely learned a lot of lessons and one of the biggest lessons learned is that sometimes there's no answer to some of life's questions.  It's kind of one of those times that you sit back and just accept with faith what you can't understand.


For me, looks like there will be one question that I may never get the answer for...and that is, "who gave me the donation of their bone?"  You remember that I said I had written a thank you note to be passed along to the family of my donor?  Although I wrote to them, via the transplant bank in Connecticut nearly 4 weeks ago now, I still haven't heard back.  The brochure that I was given at the Surgery Center said that most families have a great desire to contact transplant recipients.  There are a small number of those who don't care to be in contact.  Perhaps, "Eleanor's" family is one of them.  If so, then it shall always be one of the unanswered mysteries in the life of Peggy Miller.


Because I was so curious about this whole idea of a bone graft, I started researching online to see what I could learn.  By the way, many of you have asked me questions pertaining to the procedure and hopefully I've found a few answers.  This was "uncharted" territory for me and even with all the "unknowns" surrounding it, I was able to learn quite a bit.


My type of bone graft is referred to as an "allograft"because the bone material comes from someone who has died.  Usually the donor bone is harvested and when it is fully prepared and ready to be used, it is sent to a bone bank.  My gift came from a bone bank in  Connecticut but my donor could have been from anywhere.


More than likely, my donor was of reasonably good health and chances are that they died accidentally.  The very best part of their bone was taken for use.  It was run through a myriad of procedures that removed everything "genetically identifiable" to the donor.  It was crushed, freeze dried, and kept in quarantine for 3 months before it was even available for my procedure. It came to me in the form of "croutons" and if you look online at photos, that's what it reminds one of.



In the month since receiving it, I haven't developed any "hankerings" for any kind of food that is different.  I still hate olives, won't drink milk, and would rather ride 50 miles straight into a stiff Kansas southeasterly wind than put a raisin in my mouth.  You hear all kinds of stories of transplant recipients who suddenly love ketchup for the first time in their life only to learn that their donor loved it as well.  Kind of an interesting prospect but I've not encountered it.  At least not yet.


In the days following my surgery, I've had time to think about this alot.  Even though I'd love to know who gave me this wonderful gift of their "life" I will actually be ok with not knowing.  Whether it was a man or woman doesn't even matter.  Where they came from, what they did?--not a concern either.   What does matter to me is that they cared--they cared enough about helping others who would eventually need them pretty badly.  Seems as though you could just about hear them saying..."You know, when I'm gone, make sure that my bones are given to someone who can use them.  I was thinking the other day and the name "Peggy" came to mind for some strange reason."  Hey, it could happen like that!  I thought of "Eleanor", remember?


The one thing I do know is that no matter who gave me this gift, I'd have been up that proverbial creek without a paddle.  I can only speculate what they were like.  One of my favorite lines from the movie "The Bucket List" talks about one of the main character's, Carter Chandler, "dying with his eyes closed but his heart was wide open."  That's how  my donor died and I hope and pray that when I take my last breath, that folks will say that about "Peggy Miller" as well.  

For "Eleanor"-we've made it to this point together.  Not going to give up now!

Do you believe in miracles?

2011 will long be remembered by me as the "year of the miracles."


  I witnessed my first miracle in mid-July when I entered the waters of a swimming pool for the first time in 45 years.  There in those "hallowed" waters of the local YMCA family swimming pool my teacher Laurie taught a "water phobic" (that'd be me, Peggy Miller) that it was safe to put my face in the water and blow bubbles with no need to fear drowning.  Not only that, I actually learned how to face float and back float well enough to consider myself a "pollywog" by YMCA standards.  As far as I'm concerned, Laurie should be considered one fine miracle worker!  Here we are, shown below, on the final day of class.

And today, yet another miracle...


I just returned from my dr. appointment in Wichita....it was the one that would decide whether or not I had healed substantially enough to finally, after 5 weeks wait, get a "short" arm cast.  I "half-jokingly, half-serious" told family and friends that I was taking along my pj's and a book because there was no way I'd be leaving there WITHOUT my elbow showing!  It was a strange turn of events that followed.


When I got there today, "Old Lefty's" baby blue cast was removed first thing.  Each of the 3 times that I've had a cast removed, I've taken a photo so I could see improvements.  (trying to think in a positive way)

This was taken on August 8th, just 4 days after my accident and 2 days before surgery at Wichita.  The external fixator device that Dr. Goin put in place here in Hutch, shown above,  helped to hold all of the broken parts together long enough for Dr. Chan to operate.  

Here's the way it looked a couple of weeks back,  right before a new cast was put on.  There was so much swelling it seemed.  

Finally, how it looked today, 5 weeks into recovery.  Although you can't see it from this angle, there is a distinctive prominence that concerns me on the left side, near where I broke the ulna.  To me, it gives my arm a very crooked appearance, not quite what I wanted to see.  Dr. Chan didn't think it would be a factor and he just attributed it to swelling that is still occurring and the way that I'm carrying the arm right now.


After the x-rays were taken, I waited in Dr. Chan's office for his verdict to come back-"Short arm" or "Long arm"?  Which would it be?  I was kind of beginning to feel like I was a "prisoner" awaiting sentencing or something.  I already had done 5 weeks "time"!  Couldn't he consider a week off for good behavior or something?


Friends, time for "miracle #2"....check out the photo shown below......

After looking at the x-rays, Dr. Chan felt that my arm could "leap frog" over a short-arm cast and go right into a hard plastic splint.  He was very adamant about the fact that the wrist and fingers have got to start moving, and soon!  His decision came as a shock to me--I was just praying to have the elbow finally exposed.  The decision to use the splint instead of another cast is kind of like going from steel-toed work boots to flip flops.


Kim "the taskmaster" over in physical therapy evaluated my condition and got me started on more exercises to help get my wrist moving once again.  Right now, that body part is "on strike" and it's convinced my left thumb to join the protest.  I have faith that things will get better, but I have a tremendous amount of work ahead of me and many, many weeks of therapy.  


So tonight, here I sit for the first time since August 4th with both limbs, more or less accessible.  Although I have to wear the splint for the next 4 weeks, I am supposed to take it off 4 times a day for 30 minutes each time, in order to do physical therapy.  And although I am happy to have it removed, that old fiberglass cast provided some pretty good "peace of mind" for me.  When "old lefty" was in there, things felt a lot more safe and sound.  And now............


I'd be lying if I told you I wasn't scared and nervous about this change, because I AM!  What if I hit it just right?  Yikes, what if I let the door slam on it?  I'm thinking about being in a crowded Dillon's or on the playground at school.  Will I make it another 30 days without reinjuring it?


And once more that Bible verse from the book of Matthew comes to mind, "Oh ye of little faith....."  I'm thinking pretty sure that God wouldn't stay with me through 4 casts just to run away on the 5th one!  I just need to be careful and trust that this part of "the plan" is going to lead me on to the next stop.  And by the way, you CAN'T miss seeing me-I swear that the color of this splint has GOT to be "get the heck out of my way neon pink".......  


Have a safe weekend family and friends-Good night all!

"A 10-year old boy's spirit"

Hoping not to sound like a broken record here and if I've said this once, then I've said it a thousand times..there is a reason for every single thing that happens to us here in this life-all a part of the plan. For me, the "saving grace" for everything I have gone through thus far is that some really nice things have happened to me in the past 5 weeks--not everything has been bad!  I'd love to tell you about one of those very nice things right now.

It's been quite a long "spell" since a nice, young gentleman brought me flowers to school.  Wednesday of this week that "floral drought" was broken and I was the recipient of the beautiful bouquet of flowers shown above.  They were personally delivered by a 10-year old who shares some things in common with me-the most obvious, a broken arm.  Please meet my new young friend, Darin Mitzner, a 4th grader at South Hutchinson Elementary.  

Darin's grandmother, Brenda, works with me at Lincoln Elementary and one day, a couple of weeks back, she told me about her grandson (Darin) getting hurt in an accident.  He had been having a great time playing on "inflatables" at a local business and unfortunately took a tumble from one of them.  For Darin, the end result was a broken growth plate and fractured humerus, not so lucky for him, in his right arm.  


Well you guys all know how much of a challenge it is for a 55-year old in a cast.  But I'm beginning to learn it can be equally frustrating to a 4th grader as well.  In the short period of time that I've known Darin, it's obvious to me that he is one active boy.  His current physical state isn't conducive to doing all of the fun stuff that young boys like to do.  No running, no tubing at the lake, no biking, no pe either.  Ouch, that's GOT to sting a bit!  Yet Darin seems to take it all in stride. He will be returning to his doctor soon to find out what further treatment is needed-perhaps surgery but hopefully not.  One thing about youthful bodies-they tend to repair themselves rather quickly and before you know it, guys like Darin are right back in the business of being a 10-year old!


We had a great visit, Darin and I, this afternoon at his home.  We commiserated about not being able to tie our shoes or get our casts wet! Darin needed help with daily activities like dressing and showering, just like me.  Found out that he, too, lacks patience and would prefer to be healed up by "yesterday" already!  Hey, he's definitely my kind of kid.  It won't be long, that I'm sure of, before he's ready to tackle life head on, once again.  Ahh, the spirit of a 10-year old.


One thing we agreed on, when our "time out" is finished and we are pronounced healed by those way smarter than us-both Darin and I plan to return to the activities that sidelined us in the first place.   Our accidents were just that-accidental.  Neither of us woke up one morning, intentionally thinking we wanted to be injured.  It's just the way life went for us on those given days.  And, we just need to go on from there.  And as quick as that young man seems to be, I'm going to have to "step it up"a couple of thousand notches if I'm going to EVER keep up with him!


Good luck at the doctor today Darin and speedy recovery!  So glad to have met you!

                                                The Mitzner Brothers-Darin and Kodi

eyes wide open

-Lots on my mind as I near Friday's appointment in Wichita with Dr. Chan.  In less than 36  hours, I'll be listening to him "rendering his verdict" as to whether or not my arm has healed sufficiently enough to be put into the last cast.  Oh how I am wishing for the short and sleek version of a cast, you know, something that shows a whole lot more elbow!  While I'm at it, I'm going to "opt" for a nice pink color...something akin to the carnation pink crayon in a box of 24 crayolas.  With luck, it will be and I'll be on my last 2 weeks of wearing what has become a real pain in the behind (and arm).


It has taken the better part of the 5 weeks that have passed since my August 4th accident, for me to fully realize and accept just how badly I was injured.  I sometimes prefer to live in the "land of denial" rather than the real world.  I was sure that I'd just mend quickly and go back to life as usual.  That was working pretty well for me until a bill from Promise Regional made it to my mailbox several days ago.  What I read on that bill got me to thinking of just how far I've had to come to get to where I am this day.  And by the way, that "awakening" had nothing to do with the tremendous cost.....rather, it had to do with one phrase on the bill---trauma level.


That bill, dated 8-4-2011 was for my original visit to the ER, the leading part of this journey in the life of Peggy Miller.  From the initial time of the crash, to my having to reach down and scoop up my arm from the ground, to stumbling to my truck and the horrified look on my son Grahame's face as he sped me off to the hospital, all gave me the "oh-oh" feeling that something had gone so terribly wrong.


Some of it is a "blur" but MOST of it is pretty vividly implanted in my memory of the morning.  I'll never forget the looks on the faces of the ER staff as they came into  where I was laying on the stretcher.  They would glance ever so briefly at my left arm and quickly turn their heads away.  I read the expressions on their faces and the message I saw told me that I must look pretty bad! 


 I feel especially sorry for those 2 poor x-ray technicians who had the "really fun" task of taking the pictures of "old lefty".  I'm sure I wasn't using my "happy voice" and I really should find those two young ladies to apologize for my over usage of a certain word that I often find myself uttering  while  in extreme pain.  I used enough expletives to make a "seasoned" sailor turn red in the face that day.  I don't take pride in the way I communicated my feelings to them while they were attempting what turned out to be 6 x-rays at a cost of $1,400.  But with manipulating an arm that was now blown to smithereens, I guess it was to be expected!  It took forever and I thought they had laid a towel over my face so I wouldn't have to see it.  I now realize that what I thought was a towel really was one of their lab coats and they were still wearing it.   They had to hold me down so they could get the x-rays.  My sincere apologies ladies!  That's usually not my style.  :)



My condition was serious enough that within 30 minutes of arriving my clothing had been cut off of me,  all x-rays were taken, blood drawn  with lab results back, and enough morphine given to at least keep me relatively quiet.   The surgeon had arrived and I could hear the ER doctor on the phone relaying the needed information to the surgery area.  Had it not been for the fact that I had eaten a McDonald's Egg McMuffin an hour earlier, emergency surgery would have been immediately performed.    As it was, I had to wait until noon. 


 And the bottom line is-that's the first time ANYONE ever moved me through the ER in that speedy of a fashion.  Even though I was in bad shape that day and probably about the worst 55-year old patient they'd ever dealt with, that whole staff of people provided me the best care imaginable.  They definitely earned my respect and admiration that morning and I can't say that has always been the case.  Previous ER experiences were not always the best and I stand at the top of the list of those who complain about "what's taking so long?"  But to the lst shift crew at Promise Regional Medical Center working on that Thursday morning, I commend you!


Every day I feel stronger, every day more determined to return to normal.  And I believe that I will.    With "eyes wide open", I have now come to accept that in all probability my bike won't hit the streets again until March of 2012.  You know, I'm ok with that.  And what ever the good doctor tells me to do tomorrow, whatever "Kim, the taskmaster" advises, I intend to do.  Peggy Miller is still more determined than she is afraid.  


Have the best Thursday you can possibly have!

Have you found your niche yet?

I've had a lot of people ask me why I would even consider getting back on a bike after all that has happened since August 4th.  I've even been lovingly referred to as an idiot, a crazy person, and even someone with a "death wish".  Given my history with cycling accidents, those "naysayers" may well have a point.


  My litany of injuries suffered while on a bike sounds kind of like the Stock Market these days...The Crash of '73 (broken left leg/ankle bone), The Crash of '87 (broken left collarbone), The Crash of '00 (twisted left ankle), The Crash of '01 (3 broken ribs on left side) and latest but not least, The Crash of '11 (broken left arm, wrist, hand).  Those who question why anyone would ever subject themselves to the possibility of yet another collision may well have a legitimate concern.  But, I have to tell you-I can't think of anything else that I'd rather do.


Over the years, cycling has become my therapy during those times when life has become very depressing.  Spinning those 2 wheels is way cheaper than smoking, drinking, or prescription drugs would be to fight the effects of depression.  For me, the more miles ridden, the better.  I may be tired at the end of a 20-mile ride but it is a "good" kind of tired.   I'll never be considered a pro-athlete in the world of biking but I can "hold my own" on the path, that is, when I'm not too busy crashing.  LOL


As a kid growing up into young adulthood in the small Kansas town of Haven, the LAST thing that little Peggy Scott  would have ever been described as would have been "athletic".  I was this little short kid, deathly afraid of being hit by a flying baseball or basketball.  In dodge ball, I always got out first and I'd just have to hope that the ball that hit me would have been thrown by a kid as little as me.  And when it came time for kids to choose teams for a game?  Well, you get the picture.


  I can recall crying as a 4th grader at the precise moment, after a gazillion strikeouts at bat, that I FINALLY hit that stupid round thing they called a softball!  I'm not sure if I ever hit a softball again--doesn't even matter because I didn't care.  I was so shocked to have hit it that I took off for third instead of first and you can only imagine the rest of that story!


It didn't get any better in junior high or high school either.  I hated PE and the  grueling calisthenics that came with them.  For me to attempt a push up or sit up with my scrawny muscles was next to impossible.  Oh, and running laps?  Got to tell you that Peggy Miller is NO runner! Not then and most certainly not now.  But they expected kids in PE to do that as well.  


I believe that I would have been perfectly content to slide through my entire life without any type of recreational physical activity.  Well, that was until the day that a used bike found its way to our farm home in Haven.  I was 17 years old and had never ridden a bicycle in my life.  Heck, I'm not sure that ANY of my 6 siblings had ridden a bike either.  So the prospect of learning to ride was rather intriguing to me.  


I practiced for a couple of months on that old thing, teaching myself to stay balanced and going straight.  I had a few spills, no major injuries (those would come later) and I actually found it to be fun!


Summer came and I decided I'd save my money and buy a brand new bike to take with me to college in the fall.  Never will forget that first bike-a bright yellow 10-speed with "ram horn" handlebars.  I spent $60 of my hard-earned money from working at my folk's restaurant and ordered it from the Spiegel catalog in Chicago.  It was an easy bike to learn how to ride and I rode it all over Haven the rest of that summer.


The crash came a month before I was to leave for my freshman year of college and the story of how it happened is, as the saying goes, "old as the hills and twice as dusty".  Rather than repeating it again, let's just say it involved 5 foolish girls riding their bikes, one cute young doctor who had just moved to our town from the state of New York, a heck of a dip in the street, me looking up at the sky right from the doctor's front yard, and the next 7 weeks in a leg cast.  Feel free to put those together as you wish and make an even "better" story out of it!  LOL  Looking back at it now, I realize that if I would have quit riding after that crash I wouldn't have experienced all the fun that would lie ahead from the seat of a bicycle.  Of course, I probably wouldn't be sporting this beautiful baby blue cast either--but that's beside the point!


Perhaps bicycling isn't your passion as it is mine. You might be a remarkable bowler and if you are, you definitely don't want "Gutter ball" Miller on your Tuesday night league team.  Maybe you spend your Saturday mornings on the golf course or setting the pace for the group you run with in preparation for marathons.  I'll be ok with cheering you on but those activities just don't seem to fit me as a participant quite right.  So whether you swim laps at the Y or walk the bike path--or if you play volleyball for a church league or basketball on the school playground, I hope you have found your "niche" in the recreational exercise world.  The main thing is to stay active, not just in your younger years but in your more "mature years" as well.  Your body, mind, and spirit will be better for it!  Take care of yourselves friends!  If you don't. then who will?

getting by with a little help from my friends.....

I have always felt blessed beyond measure to have good friends in this life....and YOU my friends are among the very best! Item #6 on the "Miller Bucket List" is to meet up with all of my FB friends in person, buy them something to drink and visit about life.  Yesterday, I was fortunate to catch up with 2 Facebook friends who are very "near and dear" to me-LeRoy and Anne Willis.

I first met this wonderful couple when I helped take care of Anne's mother, my dear friend, Winifred Peterson.  Winifred lived at the Wheaton House on the Mennonite Manor campus until she passed away a couple of years ago.  One of the great things about working at the Wheaton was the opportunity to become a part of a resident's extended family.  Anne and her 2 sisters, Mary Jo and Florence Marie made all of us who worked there feel as if we were "one of them".  They entrusted the care of their very special mother to us.  They knew that she would be well cared for and that everything would be fine.  It was always a pleasure on the weekends to see Anne and LeRoy pull up in the parking lot.  They are good people and my dear friends!


I hadn't seen them since Winifred's funeral but had been keeping up with them through Facebook.  Last year they both retired and have since been roaming the country and having the time of their lives in a 40' bus they now call "Home Sweet Home."  They are living life to its very fullest each and every day and loving every single minute of it.  


They brought back some extra special cargo for me from the Colorado Springs area.  When they heard that I wanted to get a wind trainer for my bike, LeRoy went into action.  He searched Craig's List in the Springs area to see what he could find.  He messaged me with information about 2 of them and I chose one that I thought would work.  Within a 48-hour time frame, my new trainer was tracked down, purchased and stowed away for a return trip to Kansas.  


I brought it home yesterday and Grahame set it up for me in my bedroom.  Pictures show it below:

For now, it's in my bedroom and if it will put your mind at ease, I'll just keep it right by my bed just in case I need a softer place than the curbing to land.  :)  I have promised everyone that I won't even consider riding it until my cast is off for good and the good doctor gives the "ok".  My own personal goal is to be healed up enough to ride it for the first time on my 56th birthday, October 26th.  It will be my birthday present to myself.  I'm going to have to work hard to finish up the final 500 miles of my original goal of 2,000 miles by Jan. 1, 2012 but it is attainable.  And if it is not, it won't be because I didn't try!   Oh by the way, don't intend to wear helmet on trainer but am keeping it nearby as a "visual" reminder of the most important piece of biking equipment I own.  


To Anne and LeRoy-I offer my deepest thanks for your encouragement and support as I heal completely from the accident.  Hunting down that trainer in the middle of Colorado Springs was more than I would have asked a friend to do--but you did it willingly and with genuine care and concern....that's a testament to the great character each of you have!