that gentle nudging

Today was the day that I began fulfilling my intention of accomplishing the #1 item at the top of the "Miller Bucket List"......"to learn how to swim well enough to save my own life someday"-the next 4 lessons.  The first lesson is now finished and because you are reading this post, then you can rest assured that I survived in good shape!  


As a "water phobic" for 45 years of my life, it was a scary move on my part to enroll in swimming lessons at the local YMCA back in mid-June.  I have a very dear friend, himself a fine swimmer, who learned last spring that I didn't know how to swim.  When I told him about my bucket list idea and how getting my first tattoo was near the top of it, he immediately gave me this piece of advice..."Peggy, scratch the idea of getting a tattoo and learn how to swim well enough to save your own life some day."  Because I value his ideas and judgement and have 100% trust in his decision making skills, I decided to forego the tattoo (at least for that period of time) and head to the YMCA to see if I could figure out this swimming that everyone always talked about.  Oh, am I ever glad I listened to him!


Because my first set of four lessons weren't nearly as bad as I thought they would be, I made the decision to return to the water again for the next four lessons.  Laurie, my remarkable swimming teacher, agreed to give me private lessons once again so I decided the only smart thing to do would be to return to the Y as soon as I could to learn some more about swimming.  My accident and 8 weeks of cast wearing deterred me from going back before now.  But I went back today after school and was remarkably surprised by the whole deal.


Laurie noticed the difference about me immediately.  She recalled a frightened and anxious woman (that'd be me) who last June would not think of walking into the water past 3 feet on that first day.  "Look at you Peggy"...she said when she noticed that I had gotten into the pool and immediately waded over to the 4 1/2 foot water.  I hadn't realized I'd done that and once I did, for a moment I thought "Oh my gosh, what did I just do?"  But that feeling didn't last long at all and that is the part of the pool we settled in to start my lesson.


During my 4 lessons last summer, I learned to face float and back float with a kick as well as finally being able to put my face in the water.  Today I was actually kind of shocked to realize that I remembered all of it.  I was able to do everything I had learned before with ease.  Oh there were plenty of "parts" that I have to work on but for the most part I was actually proud of myself that I remembered any of it.


My whole anxiety level this time into the pool was so very minimal.  Please don't get me wrong on this...there's plenty of stuff that I don't like about being in the water~I hate it when water gets into my ears or my nose, don't like to get into water that is deeper than I am tall (all of 5') and I don't really like it when too many people are in the pool when I am.  But even those 3 things can never be bad enough to keep me out of the water for another 45 years again.  


And Laurie, wow~what a good teacher she is.  She always manages to stay calm, collected and patient.  What I admire most about her is the ability she has to detect when someone is becoming anxious or afraid.  She never pushes me beyond what I am comfortable with, always willing to go slow or to even stop if the occasion arises.  Laurie is a "born encourager".  This afternoon, we were standing in the 4 1/2 foot water area and she told me that someday we'd be doing our lessons in the 5 foot area. I kind of looked at her puzzled with this kind of look that said, "Yeah, that's really going to happen."  I'll never forget what she said to me..."Peggy, if you want it to happen, it will." and my friends that sounds like a good thought to hang on to.


The 30 minute lesson went by way too quickly (geesch did I just say that?) and it was time to get out of the water.  We agreed to meet for the next 3 Wednesdays at 4:30 and would continue on with the next three lessons.  Shivering, I got out of the pool. I was happy and had no regrets that I had returned.


I don't know about you guys, but sometimes certain things just "hit me."  As I was leaving the Y tonight at nearly dark, a cold north wind came from around the corner and blasted its chill upon  me.  I couldn't help but think about the day in July when my last lesson was done.  Pretty near positive that the temperature that day was well over 100....flip flops felt good then, tonight well, not so much.  That 49 degree outdoor temperature was just a bitter reminder to me that winter is closing in on us with a fury.  There doesn't seem to be much time left for us between the seasons...and winter is pounding on the door saying that it doesn't care that the calendar doesn't announce its arrival for another 3 weeks.  It can, and does, come any time it dang well pleases.


As I was walking towards my truck, I realized how precious little time was left before my next surgery on "old lefty" in late December.  If I wanted to get 3 more lessons in before that time, I was going to have to get a move on.  It's a little hard, and they even frown on it, to swim with a cast on.  It's so important to me to finish these 4 lessons before my surgery date at Christmas time.  But remembering Laurie's thought, "If you want it, it will happen." then I will keep plugging away.  Starting to feel like I'm racing the clock, or something.

Oh yeah, the "gentle nudging" that I mention in the title?  Well, that's how I feel about my bucket list.  Every since I started this, now more than 6 months ago, I have indeed felt this gentle nudging or prodding to keep at it, to not stop for anything.  It's a weird feeling, kind of like what I imagine our inner voice to be like.  At times when the feeling has not been just a gentle nudge but rather a full-blown, "grab you and shake you by the shoulders" moment, I've wondered if God was sending me a message that said my time was nearly up.  Hey, you just don't know. I hope I have many years left, I hope you all do as well.  But the bottom line is, when God determines I've had "enough" time here on this earth, I'll be heading out. And as I leave, I want to know that I lived my life to the fullest each and every day I was here.  Friends, I wish for you the very same thing...that you would live your life as if today was your last day.  You don't have to have a bucket list, but for crying out loud, please be doing something each and every day that is important to you.  Don't be afraid to try something new~~I did, and guess what?  It didn't kill me!  :)  Have a great evening all of you!

                                      Laurie and I on the last day of lessons in July

To learn how to swim well enough to save my own life-part 2

Those of you who have been keeping up with this blog since it first began back in June, realize that during the months of June and July, I decided to honor Bucket List Item #4..."to learn to swim well enough to save my own life someday."  That scared little girl of 45 years ago (umm, that's me), that little kid who was sure she was drowning and that her mom was very mean for making her take lessons in the first place (lol) re-entered the water for the first time since 1965. And friends, I am the living proof that you can survive swimming lessons and live to tell about it.  Miraculously, I didn't do bad at all and during the four lessons I took, I made my peace with my "water phobia" past.  The last day of lessons in July, I told my teacher, Laurie, that I wanted to come back and take four more lessons.  Tomorrow, that shall come to pass.  I thought it might be fitting to reprint the post of June 24th of this year....the day of my first lesson.  As I read it just now, oh how have I grown.  I don't sit here in dread tonight, fearful and wishing I didn't have to do it.  On the contrary, I can't wait to do it and I look forward to passing on into the "guppy group"....it may sound funny for someone my age, but hey, I say to you once again that we all have to start somewhere.  To my very good friend who insisted that I learn to swim, I send my heartfelt thanks and the promise that I will keep learning as much as I can.  I hope I never have to save my own life or any other for that matter.  But if I do, at least I know that I am no longer afraid.....  The post from June follows below.  Please think good thoughts for me as I enter the water again after school tomorrow.  Never have ambitions of swimming professionally, you know.  But I do have ambitions of getting better at it each time I try.  Will keep you "posted" as to my progress....and by the way, what would you like to learn how to do?  And also, by the way, what in the world is stopping you from doing it?  Just asking friends, just asking.  :)

Working on #4

Well, I guess it finally happened-46 years after I said, "I am NEVER taking swimming lessons again MOM and I mean it!!", little 10-year old Peggy Ann Scott had to "eat her words."  Thanks to the encouraging spirit of my very dear friend to "switch out" getting a tattoo for learning how to swim well enough to save my own life as well as the "anonymous" friend who sent me the application, I walked back into the water today, June 24, 2011.  And guess what?  Nothing bad happened to me because of it.

Hey, this is me, age 9 1/2, about the time I first went to swimming lessons in 1965.  "That little girl" didn't have a clue what would be waiting for her ahead in this life.  It was a wonderful time to be a kid and I tried to enjoy every minute of it!  Well, all except for swimming lessons, that is. 

Lest you think that I know how to "photoshop" a picture...it really is me..that really is water...and it was an "ok" place to be.






I am learning to swim in the smaller of the two pools that the local YMCA has.  When I got there this morning, there were probably a dozen or more older adults using the south end of the pool for their water exercise class.  As I walked in with Laurie (my teacher), I tried to be as discreet as I could be.  In my mind, I'm sure I was thinking "Geesch, I'm sure glad that I don't know anyone out there.  I'd hate for them to know I was just now learning how to swim."  


Well, this IS Hutchinson (small town America) and I hadn't made it even past where the group of swimmers were located before I heard one of them say, "Peggy. Is that you?  Hi!  What are you doing here?"  As I peered into the group, I recognized not just one,  but two of my former colleagues who have now retired.  

Well, GREAT, I thought.  So much for my "cloak of invisibility" working out for me.  I explained to my two friends, and hey the whole dang group of them, that for the first time since I was 10 years old that I was coming to learn how to swim.  And the really beautiful part of all that was that no one felt this need to laugh or question why I was doing it at my age.  Instead, they offered congratulations and good luck wishes.  


Before I got into the pool, I asked Laurie if this was going to be the longest 30 minutes of my life.  She laughed and reassured me that would not be the case.  Believing in her, trusting her with my well-being, I said that I was ready to get on with it.  So, in we went.


I must say to you, IF you ever were looking for someone to teach you to swim, you could only hope that it might be someone just like Laurie.  Her calm and reassuring demeanor made me realize that it was going to be a good thing to learn to swim.  She never rushed me, not even once, and listened to every single stupid question that I could think of to ask.  And trust me friends, I asked plenty of questions.


For today, she allowed me to get used to the pool and the varying water depths.  She realized my fear of getting in over my head.  Laurie is a bit "vertically challenged" herself, but at 5'3" tall, she seems like a "giant" to me!  She asked me to tell her when we were getting into water depths that I felt uncomfortable with.  I made it all the way to 4' without any panicking feeling.  4'5" was where I began to stand on tiptoes.  THAT was the point of being uncomfortable so we backed off right away.  That's what I liked about her as a teacher, she never pushed beyond what I was comfortable with at the time.


Laurie realized that my goal in working on Item #4 of my bucket list was to be able to learn to swim well enough to save myself from drowning.  I have no visions of being an Olympic swimmer or even going off of the diving board at this time in life.  But it IS realistic to me that perhaps one day I may need to be around water of some type.  And if I am, then I'd better know how to at least swim a little.  


Laurie told me that the best thing she felt like I could learn would be how to back float so a majority of the time was spent on that today.  I tried it several times, always remembering what she told me to do, as well as what NOT to do.  At first, I was rigid and nervous-not so good!  She taught me how important it is to relax, keep your tummy "up", keep your head back more.  Gradually things got better and I began to think to myself, "Hey, this isn't so bad after all!"


We only worked on one thing that I was not such a great fan of....blowing bubbles.  Yes, I know-that's the ONLY thing I passed back in 1965.  But a lot of water "has gone under the bridge" since then.  Today it was not fun at all.  Once again, she was calm and reassuring to me.  It took me a few tries to even feel comfortable doing it, but I made it.  It wasn't as uncomfortable as I thought.  So to whichever swimming teacher I had when I was 10, Julie or Jenny Fisher,  I just want them to know I didn't forget it-I still have it on the bubble blowing part!


Well, 30 minutes didn't last forever and before I knew it I was done.  We arranged for me to come back to my second lesson next Friday, same time and same place.  In the meantime, Laurie suggested I might like to come up before next Friday and just spend some time getting used to the pool and the water.  I plan to take her up on it.


As I was leaving, I stopped to visit with my new friend, Cleta.  She works the front desk and checks people in and out.  You might remember that Cleta was the one who mailed my application to me on Saturday of last week.  One of my friends, still remaining anonymous, went in and convinced Cleta to send me the application for adult swim lessons.  So "anonymous" friend, this much I can tell you.   I tried to get it out of Cleta once again today who it was that had her send me the letter in the mail.  And, once again, dear Cleta refuses to say.  In fact, today her comment was "hmm....I think I just forgot."  

Train - Calling All Angels

A few thoughts about angels....Thinking this night about all of the angels that God has sent my way in 56 years of living.  For all of the times I might have been hurt but wasn't, for every time I was comforted in times of deep sorrow, for those moments when my loneliness nearly overtook me, for the gentle nudging when I might have decided to take the wrong turn in life....I do so give thanks.

Today, 4 months after my accident, I finally got to meet once again the ER nurse who took such good care of me that morning.  In my heart and mind, I will always know that she was one of God's angels here on Earth that August day.  It seemed so wonderful to meet her and shake her hand and give proper thanks for a job so very well done.  Kristi Sourke-my sincere respect to you for what you did that day.

                                                       As for me, "I believe".

in the days of yore

It's Monday morning and time to return back to school. The five glorious days of Thanksgiving break are now over.  The leftover turkey and ham, the pumpkin pie and the cornbread dressing have long since disappeared from the refrigerator.  Ursela and Wade headed back to Lawrence for classes this week at KU.  Ricky and Angie headed back to Wichita late in the day on Thursday and since then it's been just Grahame, Oblio the cat, and I holding down the fort here at home.  The house is quiet, too quiet at times.  Maybe you have experienced the same thing at your home...


I must tell you that I witnessed the most interesting phenomenon here on Friday evening.  And I think it's not stretching it at all to say I've not seen it happen here for the better  part of 20 years.  The kids and I spent an evening at home entertaining ourselves without using ONE piece of technology~we played board games....yes, you heard that right~We played board games!  And as we were reminded by Ursela shortly after the games were through, not one person fought with another one.  Talk about miracles...  :)  No computers, no cell phones,  no TV, no interruptions.  Friends, I say to you it was like Heaven.


You know, I came from a time of being a kid when you were dang lucky to have a TV (and even luckier if it was in color).  We got 3 channels, kind of, and when the reception was bad, we learned how to put a bit of tin foil on the ends of the rabbit ears to help bring in a better picture.  Already my young Facebook friends reading this are sitting there in wonder...Like, "I wonder what in the heck she is talking about, tin foil and rabbit ears?" So kids that are confused, please just ask your grandparents or another adult.  LOL  


We had to learn to make up our own ways of having fun and when there are 7 kids involved, well that can get pretty interesting.  I wonder sometimes how many of today's kids have ever learned to make mudpies and set them out to dry on a hot and sunny Kansas-in the summer afternoon?  Do they know what it's like to pretend to play "house" without the latest "dream home" from Wal Mart?  Have their moms ever given them a brown paper bag cut down the middle to draw on?  Yeah, I know...I've already entered "old geezerdom" but I think about it a lot, especially as a teacher who sees hundreds of kids at school each day.
  
As a kid growing up in the 60's and 70's, my folks would have said we were crazy to have even thought of a time in the future when every kid in the whole United States of America would carry a cell phone in their pocket all the time.  And a computer, even more than one at home, forget it!  It was never going to happen.  We were happy with what we had because the bottom line was, we didn't know any better.  What we had was good enough for us and most of the time we were very grateful for it.


I looked at the weekend ads in the newspaper for all of the Christmas gift ideas that are for sale this year.  I'm sure that little kids also looked at them and made their lists out to give to Santa.  Chances are good that many of them will get just what they ask for.  You know, I can't blame them, having been a kid once myself, believe it or not!  The bright colors, the super heroes on the label, the sounds they make, the extraordinary things they do...who wouldn't like them?  But as I looked, I realized there was one thing kind of missing~the ability of a child to use their imagination.  So very much of what was offered was driven by technology.


Please, let me be the first to say, I love technology.....I don't really want to live in a world without it.  But even having said that, friends I miss the "old days" when people sat around a table and played games like Monopoly or Rook, when parents and their kids actually sat down and interacted with one another.  No cell phones or emails to distract anyone, nothing to take anyone away from the opportunity at hand....having fun with their family.


When my 3 children were growing up, the use of technology by the general public was coming into age.  None of my kids ever remember growing up without a computer at home.  For most of their lives, all they remember was our having a cell phone.  Each one of them had their own tv and by the time they were in grade school, all 3 had their own computers.  If there was anything related to technology that we could afford to give them then they got it, either for birthdays or Christmas or sometimes just because.


So when they sat down at the table of Friday evening and pulled out a board game to play, I was really surprised.  We cleared off the dining room table, turned off the music and tv, shut down our laptops, and the only sound to be heard were the voices of Wade, Ursela and Grahame as they began the game.  Oh and another strange thing happened.  


I was getting ready to wash up our supper dishes and I told them to have fun and I'd listen to them from the kitchen.  I'll never forget the look on Ursela's face when she heard that.  With the almost saddest of eyes she said, "Mom, aren't you going to play with us?"  So, you've heard the saying that "dishes can wait"?  Well, not only CAN they wait, they DID.


That proverbial "thump on the head" came from God at just the right time and place.  For all of the times that I'm sure it seemed that I was much too busy doing other things during the kids' growing up years, I finally figured out that if it comes down to doing my housework or playing with my kids (no matter what their age) that I'm choosing the latter.  And guys, let me tell you, it was the best 2 hours I've spent in a long, long time.


Getting ready to head out the door soon to start my day. I'll drive to school listening to my Fleetwood Mac CD and swipe my key card across the scanning device at school.  I'll "fire up" my laptop to get into my school email.  By the time 8:00 rolls around, the world of technology will be wrapped completely around me.  But I will always give thanks to God for that brief moment in time on Friday evening when 4 people sat around an old dining room table and had the best time just being with one another.  May you also, my dear friends, enjoy the same feeling as we did.  Take care of yourselves this day-so very thankful for the influence each of you have upon me.

My 3 blessings in life....Ricky Miller, Ursela Hemman, Grahame Hemman...they used to be so little...now, well, you know~

to ride on the back of a motorcycle very fast and live to tell about it

As a mom with 3 kids, I cannot tell you the number of times they have told me about scary things they have gone through in this life.  Thankfully, for me, I never learned about them until months or even years later.  LOL~They always would say, "Mom, what good would it have been for you to know about it when it was happening?  Like you were going to change it or something?"  Point well taken Ursela, Grahame, and Ricky.  

One particular incident (although there have been hundreds that I could have chosen from) involved my oldest son, Ricky.  That boy is an adventurer and in 2007 he decided to mountain bike along the Continental Divide for a month.  He camped out along the way amid the beautiful and majestic Rocky Mountain scenery.  I gave little thought to his camping sites until one day when he was back home again, he happened to show me a photo of him standing next to a sign in his camping area.  The sign said, "DANGER-MOUNTAIN LION AREA".  In his haste and in the dark of the night before, he had unknowingly pitched his tent in an area alongside "mountain lion highway".  And he told me that he had one of his best night's sleep there!

My middle child, Grahame, also an adventuresome guy, spent a month along the Appalachian Trail this past spring.  Of course I worried about him, pretty much non-stop the whole time.  But wouldn't you know it, the one night that for some reason I didn't worry was the night that his food bag was attacked by a bear.  So thankful that I didn't learn about it until days later...like the kids kept telling me, what would I have been able to do about it anyways?

The baby of the family, Ursela, has so far not divulged any scary moments and if she's had them...well, she's saving them up for a "special time" to share them with me.  If she takes after her brothers, then I shall rest assured that sometime in the near future, I can count on a few more gray hairs.

I have always encouraged them to live their lives to the fullest each and every day.  As their mom, I want them to have NO regrets about the choices they make.  And I, dear friends, want to have no regrets either cause we all know that this life is way too short.  So that's why today, November 25th, 2011, I worked on accomplishing item #3 on the "Miller Bucket List"-to ride on the back of a motorcycle very fast and live to tell about it.

I know what some of you must be thinking...."old lefty" is still in fairly fragile condition.  I've already been in a bicycle accident and spent the better part of 2 months in a cast.  Why take a chance today by going for a motorcycle ride?  And guys, I've said before that Item #3 is NOT a death wish, but a life wish!  I've wanted to have a motorcycle ride for as long as I can remember.  Now the "going fast" part, well, I'm going to have to chalk that one up to seeing the IMAX movie, "Speed" at the Kansas Cosmosphere 13 times in a row.  Speed fascinates me and although I dang sure don't need daily or even monthly doses of it, I did want to take this ride.  

Luckily for me, I have two very wonderful friends, Sara and Ron Brubaker.  When Sara learned this summer that Item #3 had to do with riding a motorcycle, she immediately thought of her good husband, Ron.  Being the great guy that he is, Ron volunteered to help me out by giving me the ride on his motorcycle.  Summer's incessant heat and then my biking accident kept postponing taking the ride.  But today it was arranged, kind of on the spur of the moment, and I fulfilled my wish.

  

Here we are, prior to leaving this afternoon from in front of Sara's salon in South Hutchinson.  Ron has a really nice Honda VTX 1800, a smooth ride.  My dear young friend, Amy Brittain Pratt, should be very happy to see that her old first grade teacher was indeed wearing a helmet (thanks to my good friend Kalisha for providing it for me).  And "old lefty" was tucked safely into the "get out my way neon pink colored" splint.  I wasn't worried in the least~if you ever take a motorcycle ride, then you should only hope and pray that the person driving it is half as careful as Ron Brubaker is.  

Since this was only my 4th motorcycle ride ever in life, I wasn't even sure how to get on and off of one, or what in the world to hang on to.  But Sara and Ron talked me through it and I had absolutely no problems whatsoever.  When we pulled out of the parking lot of "It's All About You", I had no regrets in the least.  I was getting ready to do what I wanted to do...and it felt so very good.

And so, we were off....heading south out of South Hutchinson, via 96 and then 17 highways.  Boy, what a feeling~very amazing in fact to fly down the road like that.  I thought of how, as a cyclist, I was always so thrilled to go down the hill of the bike path at 23 mph.  That always seemed like super sonic speed to me.  Today I learned what moving along fast really feels like.  And how fast DID we go?  Well, let's see since I'm a teacher, I'm going to put it you this way....If I was teaching math and talking place value, then the highest speed we attained had a "2" in the tens place and a "0" in the ones place and in the hundreds place......dang you will have to figure that one out on your own.  The bottom line is, for that brief moment in time, Peggy Miller was having the time of her life and living her life to the utmost.  Keeping in mind, the last part of that Bucket List wish....and live to tell about it is shown below.

We made it back in one piece just a little over 30 minutes from when we left.  I think I must have had a smile on my face the entire time.  I wasn't afraid in the least and had all the faith and trust in the world with the driving ability of Ron Brubaker.  For the first half of the ride, I had my fingers clutched around the back of his jacket (like THAT would do anything if we had a crash) but by the time were about 6 miles from town my hands just rested at my side.  We made it back to South Hutch by 2:15 and I was alive and very well.  My spirit soared, my heart was light, and peace was inside of me.

Friends, what is it that you have left to do in this life that seems a little scary to you?  Is there something, no matter how big or small, that you've meaning to accomplish but just don't quite have the courage to do it?  Being a "risk taker" can be quite frightening and sometimes it seems like the smartest thing to do, perhaps the ONLY thing to do, is to NOT take a risk.  Risks are everywhere in this life...and from the moment you arise in the morning until you lay your head on the pillow in sleep each night, you really have to face that fact.  Only you can make the decision as to whether or not you want to embrace the risk or turn away from it.  What ever your decision is, you can only hope that it is one you can live with.  As for me, this day, I chose to take the risk and rest assured, I have absolutely no regrets!  

To the Brubakers, my deepest gratitude for helping me to "cross off" Item #3 on the Miller Bucket List....to ride a motorcycle very fast and live to tell about it."  More fun than I've had in a long, long time.  

Part 2-Thanking my first responders

Oh dear friends, 3 things that you really don't ever want your doctor to say to you before he does surgery on you....


"The damage is horrible-it's a total collapse."
"I'm not even sure that I can help you."
"You don't plan on having a normal wrist again, do you?"


Meet Dr. Scott Goin, an orthopaedic surgeon at Promise Regional Medical Center here in Hutchinson.  Dr. Goin was the doctor "on call" that morning of August 4th and it was him that got the word about a crazy woman who had wrecked her bike and was in big trouble.  I went back to his office today, to thank him for what he had done for me 3 months ago.

Dr. Goin and I are not strangers to one another.  He has done orthoscopic knee surgery twice now on both of my knees.  I'm sure he didn't wake up that August morning thinking that he'd be seeing me in only a few hours.  But we did meet up again and this time the trauma to my left arm and wrist was much more extensive than just cleaning out a little arthritis from behind a kneecap.  I was thankful that he was the doctor on call and by the time he saw me, I was already in a room upstairs, many miles into "morphine land".


When he took a look at the x-rays, Dr. Goin told me that he knew right away that the repair of the damage done was pretty much out of his league.  At very best, he was going to try to pin some of the bones together and then use an external fixator device to hold everything in place temporarily.  He told me it would take a while to do the surgery and it would be tricky and that he just hoped he could do this much for me.  


At that point in time, I don't think the full impact of what I had done to myself had even sunk in.  The morphine was definitely doing what it was supposed to and I barely remember myself saying to him, "Ok, just do what you can."  After he left, with what little senses I had left, I started to realize that he wasn't kidding.  All of a sudden, I began to accept the fact that the "most expensive" bike ride in the world had just taken place that morning in Hutchinson, KS.  And the cost of it had little to do with what my overall hospital bill would be, rather it had EVERYTHING to do with the possibility that I could lose the use of my arm.  And I really wasn't crazy about the prospects of my new nickname being "old-one arm."


But since Peggy Miller's name is not followed by the initials "MD" and Scott Goin's are, I had to have faith and trust in him and just sign my name on that surgery consent.  5 long hours, 2 pins, and 1 external fixator later, I was back in my room.  He told me later that he had never seen an arm get hurt in such a fashion, especially by someone just riding their bike.  A "freakish" accident if ever there was one.  The external fixator device is shown below...you don't very see very many of those used on an arm....

3 days later I was being referred by Dr. Goin to see Dr. Chan in Wichita.   Dr. Goin knew that my injuries were far beyond what he could repair in Hutchinson and he wanted to send me to the very best person he knew. You know I thanked him for his candor and honesty in dealing with my injuries.  Lots of my friends, who learned that he told me early on that he wasn't sure he could  do anything, were very surprised at his saying so.  I guess they may have thought he gave up too soon.  I, on the other hand, really appreciate the fact that he didn't "sugar coat" anything.  In this case, I was better off to know the truth right up front rather than hang on to hope that might not even be there in the first place.




When I returned to see him this morning for the first time in over 3 months, I shook his hand in thanks for what he did that day as he tried to save my arm.  He was happy to see the progress and glad to know that Dr. Chan was going ahead with the second surgery.   It sure felt good to see him and to tell how much I appreciated what he did for me.  Dr. Goin is a lot like Dr. Chan~both of them believe that the credit for getting better only starts with the doctor.  The patient is the one who has to carry the weight from then on. Getting better is the "ultimate goal."


Today on this Thanksgiving Eve, I give thanks for medical care and the doctors who provide it.  I'm so very grateful to have a job in which health insurance is one of the many benefits.  Too many folks these days have to do without insurance and for that I am very sorry.  I complain so very much about high health insurance premiums, about long waits in the doctor's office and emergency rooms, about medicine that is so expensive that you have to wonder how to pay for it sometimes.  Grumble as we human beings do, today this I know~without Drs. Goin and Chan, my "lot" in life would be so very much different than it was prior to August 4th.  They have earned "this bicycle rider's" utmost of respect forever.  

Part 1-Thanking my first responders

The days that have followed my November 4th dr. appointment, the one that said "Peggy Miller, you are free at last, at least until the next surgery", have flown by quickly.  I have returned to doing many of the same things that I did before my August 4th accident and the truth be told, there have been many times that I have almost forgotten that I had been hurt.  Sometimes, particularly if I am wearing long sleeves, you wouldn't even know that there had been a problem in the first place.  

But as the days continue to move towards my next surgery in late December, I am keenly aware that "old lefty" still has some serious challenges ahead.  Most of my left hand has returned to sleep again, save only "lucky" (my middle finger) that faired pretty well all along.  My wrist still has the notorious "bump", the result of the helter-skelter reattachment of the bone that had broken off of the ulna side.  At times, especially when I bump up against something, it hurts and I know it's there.    Although I am using my left hand and wrist as much I can, without the surgery I'm guessing it's not going to improve much more from its current state.  Yet, even in all of this, I continue to count myself so blessed and fortunate.

 I have spoken many times about the "miracle workers" at Kansas Orthopaedic Center in Wichita.  Dr. Chan and his staff, Kim Lockwood and his staff in physical therapy, and everyone else over there, have all worked together to make sure that I am as healthy as I am today.  But there were other "miracle workers" that I met during this ordeal, and today, on this Thanksgiving Eve, I made it a point to look them up and thank them for what they did for me.


I don't remember exactly everything about what happened in the hour or so after I landed, smack dab, in the middle of the curb in front of my home.  Some of it is just a blur to me now.  But there were many things I do vividly recall.  My son, Grahame, was just coming out of the house and found me in a crumpled heap.  I scooped up "old lefty", limped over to my pick up and yelled at Grahame that I needed to get to the ER and NOW.  I remember Grahame driving as fast as he could safely do so down 17th Street and me yelling and crying out in pain about every block or so.  


It couldn't have taken us more than 5 minutes to get to the ER and by the time we made it there, I told Grahame to just drive through the garage area and start laying on the horn and surely someone would hear it and come to help.  Sure enough, horn blaring all the way into the garage, it worked.  By the time Grahame put the truck into "park", a nurse was heading our way, wheel chair in tow.  Her name was Kristi Sourk and she will forever be at the top of the list of my all-time favorite people.  When I went out to the hospital to meet with her this morning, I was disappointed to learn that she was not able to be there today.  Seems as though the sickness that has made its rounds all over Hutch as of late, finally caught up to her.  Even nurses get sick!  We talked by phone though and made plans to meet on Monday of next week for the first time since August 4th.  I told her that I was going to tell her story and so it does go......


I remember the first words out of my mouth to her~"I fell and it's broke!" and I definitely recall her comment back to me, "You know, I think you're right!"  With that she whisked me away, straight back to a room and the whole recovery process ordeal began.  I went through triage right there in the hospital garage in the first 2 minutes of my arrival.  Within a half-hour, I was being readied for surgery.


One of the things that struck me about Kristi that morning was the overall presence of calm that she had about her.  Here I was, half-crazed out of my mind in pain, and yet she stayed the course without becoming rattled herself.  When the ER doctor arrived, in record time by the way, he asked me about the medicines I was allergic to...and funny how you remember sometimes exactly what you say to someone, but here was my response..."I'm allergic to penicillin, Sulfa, and Bactrim but I dang sure am not allergic to morphine and I want it right now!"  (actually, I kind of cleaned up that comment...)  No sooner had I said the word morphine, that Kristi squeezed my shoulder with syringe in hand and said, "That's what I'm giving you right now, Peggy.  It's going to help very soon."


There were so many good nurses and CNAs that were in and out of that room in the first hour.  As I've mentioned before, they didn't have to tell me how bad I was hurt because all I had to do was to look at their faces each time a new one entered my room. That "quick" astonished glance at my arm and then an even quicker glance away from it told me that it didn't look so pretty.  But it was  Kristi who stayed by my side the entire hour that I was in the ER.


I recall her asking me if I wanted them to save the clothing I was wearing or to just to cut it off of me.  By that time a whole lot of moaning and groaning was going on (and it was me doing it, not the nurses by the way.. LOL)  and I just said "cut it all off me".....That whole act, of having to remove a patient's clothing in such a manner, was done in such a reverent and respectful way.  I thought of that later on with much appreciation...  Regretfully I admit that my choices of words at that particular time would have made even a sailor blush.  I had to have been the world's worst patient that she had ever seen, but Kristi still treated me with dignity, compassion and respect.  Not sure a patient could ask for much more than that from their nurse.  


A strange thing I recall is that she reached up and took the ear bud from my MP3 player out of my ear and said, with a smile on her face, that if she couldn't listen to music, then I couldn't either.  I hadn't even realized it was still playing! I must have been out of my mind, realizing later that the song playing at that time was Creedence Clearwater Revival's~Fortunate Son and the "Peggy Miller way" of listening to music has only one setting for volume-VERY LOUD.   I told her that I was wearing a special ankle bracelet and to try to save it for me...heck that was already taken care of by her 15 minutes earlier.  When I didn't have the presence of mind to speak for myself, she just took charge for me.  


One hour after arrival at the hospital, I was being readied for surgery and my ER stint was over.  By that point I was already living quite happily in "morphine land" and things didn't seem so bad at all.  But as they wheeled me out of there, I grabbed Kristi's hand (not with "old lefty" of course) and thanked her for what she did for me.  And as I type these words friends, all of a sudden I am over come with emotion and the lump in my throat right now is a testament to the angelic kindness of an ER nurse who helped to save me.  On this Thanksgiving Eve, my heart is full of gratitude for her and all of the nurses and health care professionals that work so diligently each and every day to save life AND limb!  May God bless them all.....  

  

What is left of my favorite Smith's Market t-shirt that I was wearing that day and "old lefty's" biking glove.  No way they were coming off of me without some very serious "scissor work".  

the old dreams

In early November, I had the chance to take a journey to the state of Iowa.  It was an "impromptu" decision, made with about a 48-hour turnaround, to meet up with and visit a friend from the "land of long ago and so very, very far away." Normally speaking, I'd never decide to do something like that so hastily but for some strange reason, this time I did it first and thought about it later.


The drive to get there was a long one, 365 miles and nearly 6 hours away.  To make the journey from my home here in south central Kansas, I would have to go through Kansas City traffic for the first time ever in my life.  I counted on my Onstar navigation system to literally give me turn by turn directions.  When I hit the KC city limits right at dark and rush hour "to boot", I began to question my sanity a bit.  But it was too late to turn back now and so, fingers with a "death grip" on the wheel, I began to manoeuvre my way through the traffic.  Miraculously, not even a near miss anywhere along the line.  Jokingly before I left school that afternoon, I said to a friend that I hoped God would just part the Kansas City traffic the same as He had parted the Red Sea for Moses and the Israelites.  And you know what, I wonder if He did?  LOL  I continued on northward towards Iowa and 1,000 dead deer carcasses later, my friend and I were able to connect with one another in the small community of Osceola, Iowa.  


You know, since I don't get out a lot, it would have been plenty for me to say that I'd driven to Iowa, via Kansas City, and back without having an accident or getting lost.  It would have been plenty to have met up with my friend and had the wonderful time that we both did. But my visit to the "Hawkeye State" was going to be fondly remembered by a journey both of us would take in the morning.  I finally got to see the covered bridges of Madison County, Iowa.


Madison County is situated in south central Iowa and was originally home to 19 covered bridges scattered throughout the area.  Now only 6 remain and it was those 6 bridges that provided the backdrop for the 1995 movie, "The Bridges of Madison County".  I don't know how many of you have seen the movie but if for some reason you haven't, I'm thinking tonight would be a good time to look it up.  I had never seen it but was encouraged to watch it by one of my dear friends here in Kansas.  So this summer, I did just that and became and even bigger fan of Clint Eastwood and Meryl Streep.  


The journey to find the famous Roseman Bridge took us over several miles of Iowa countryside.  As we meandered down one country road, followed by another and yet another, I kind of felt like I was home in Kansas.  It was a peaceful part of the world, not a lot of traffic, not a lot of people.  The only thing that part of  Iowa wasn't short on that day was dead deer carcasses...and THEY were all over the place.  


Finally, at long last, at the intersection of Francesca Road (for Meryl Streep's character in the movie) and Roseman Bridge Road, we found it~the most beautiful covered bridge that the state of Iowa, no wait, make that the whole wide world has to offer.....The Roseman Bridge...

The Roseman Bridge was built in 1883 and sits at the original site it was made for.  In the movie, it's the bridge that Robert Kincaid (Clint Eastwood's character) asks directions for from Francesca Johnson (Meryl Streep's character)...and if you have seen the movie, well you know where THAT all ends up going.  And if you haven't seen the movie, get a move on people....'cause you're trading daylight for dark again!  LOL


The inside walls of the bridge are covered with the "graffiti" messages that visitors have left each time they came there.  It was fun to go along and read the thoughts of all the different people who had once been there.  But there was one message in particular that caught my attention and it got me to thinking about where my own life was going.  And the message was a famous quote by Clint Eastwood's character toward the movie's end...

"The old dreams were good dreams, they just didn't work out.....But I'm glad I had them."  As I read those words that Saturday Iowa morning, I began to think about how many good dreams I had that didn't quite work out as I had planned.  Have you had any of those kinds of dreams friends? I've said many times how life's road has taken a lot of twists and turns for me.  Just when I thought I was at the right point in time for something to happen for the good, it always seemed like God had other plans for me.  Sometimes I've had to trade one dream for another or even give up the idea of a dream entirely, but it didn't stop me from dreaming.  And every bump in the road, every unplanned stopover, each ironic twist of fate just kept leading along my life's path.  After 56 years of travel, I'm still moving along, heading towards wherever it is that I'm supposed to be.  And friends, I'm still dreaming all along the way.  


I hope, dear friends of mine, that many of your dreams for this life have come true.  And for those that haven't yet, I hope you never give up hope!  Anything can happen in this life and usually does! You know I wanted to leave my own "greeting" on the bridge that morning and of all things, "this" teacher who usually carries a dozen Sharpies in her purse every day of the week, that Saturday morning had none!!   But I'm determined to return to Roseman Bridge sometime in the near future, Sharpie in hand, and leave this message.......

Have a good night's rest my friends~and always the best of dreams for each of you.  Peace.....

the list

I found it one day last year about this time when I was cleaning out the last of my mom's belongings in the house that I now call "home".  It was a sheet of notebook paper, filled with the names of all her kids and grand kids. I immediately realized what I had in my hands~it was the last Christmas shopping list that my mom had made before she moved into the nursing home.  As I read it, a tear came to my eye when I found my name, "Peggy" and the notation next to it "Christmas tablecloth".  It was the last Christmas gift that my mom had given me. 

Our mom always loved celebrating Christmas and one thing she made sure of was that every last one of us had something to unwrap under the tree.  As I counted the names on that list, I came up with 30 people.  I swear, I don't know how she did it~but some how or another she stretched her already meager Social Security check even tighter during the month of December each year, because that's how she was.

It was strange for me to find that piece of notebook paper that particular November day, now almost a year ago.  But then, as I've said before, "ironic" is my new middle name and I should not ever be surprised at the "strangeness" this life has to offer.  Yet finding that old Christmas shopping list provided the inspiration to resume a practice that I had years ago given up....the celebration of Christmas.

I stopped celebrating Christmas way back in 2003, in fact not only did I stop celebrating it,  I barely acknowledged its existence in my life.  Don't get me wrong....I know that the true meaning of Christmas, for me, is the celebration of the baby Jesus' birth.  That I never gave up on and always will hold close to my heart...but the rest of it~the Christmas trees, parties, presents, looking at lights, playing holiday music,  Black Friday sales, I wanted nothing to do with.  December 25th couldn't come and go quickly enough for me.  If I could just survive through December, I'd make it ok.

I could say that I don't want to talk about why all of a sudden 8 years ago I hated the holidays so much and I know you would understand and accept that.  But maybe, just maybe if I tell my story some of you who are facing the same thing will be able to find peace in knowing that you aren't alone.  I've said before that writing this blog can, at times, be painful and because the words I try to write come from my heart, then sometimes you just have to accept the fact that it's going to hurt a bit.  So I acknowledge that friends and perhaps after I finish this blog entry, I too will find some peace.  Sounds like a "win-win" if ever I did hear one and believe me, I can use all of those times that I can get!

Those of you who know me personally know that I've been divorced twice.  My last marriage ended in 2003 and anyone who has ever gone through that kind of a shock in life knows how very painful and sad of a time it is.  The holidays are a particularly bad reminder for those who have gone through a divorce of how life used to be back in the good days.  And you know, it's not just divorced people who have trouble with things like the holidays.  Those who have lost a spouse, a child or another close family member, those who have loved ones in the military or loved ones that live too far away to come home are equally affected during the special times of the year.  No getting around it, the commercial Christmas season has a way of "sucking" and that's just the truth.  

My way of coping for the years following 2003 was to just pretend that for the most part, the season of Christmas didn't exist.  I gave away all of my Christmas decorations, threw my tree into the burnpile, "bah-humbugged" every house that I saw lit up with lights and trashed every holiday ad from the newspaper without even looking at them.  During those years, I was working as a CNA at a local nursing home facility and I always volunteered to work on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.  I guess I thought if I was working, then I wouldn't have to remember about why I hated Christmas so much.  That was working out pretty good for me for the next 7 years.....that is until I found Mom's list.

That tablecloth that Mom had listed next to my name on the shopping list was actually one that she had embroidered for me.  It was beautiful, almost elegant looking.  It was the kind of tablecloth that you would use only for one meal, then take immediately to the dry cleaners to be sure that it stayed nice to use the next year.  The ironic thing was, and oh you know how ironic life can get, is that I never got the chance to use the tablecloth because 2 months later, I was divorced.  And life was never again the same.

I'm always telling you how God "whacks me upside the head" from time to time to get a point across, a message  to me.  I'm pretty sure on that November day last year, that is what happened. The message of "time to let Christmas back into your heart Peggy" came through loud and clear and if Mom could find a way to make a few dollars stretch far enough to buy a gift for each of the people that she loved, then surely I could find a way in me to put up one Christmas tree.  And so, I did.

Last year's Christmas tree was the first one I had put up in 8 years.  It seemed a bit weird to buy one again and of course I had to buy new ornaments as well.  But I did and we got it put up shortly after Thanksgiving.  Oh yeah, there's the thing about Oblio the cat who wouldn't leave the tree alone.  Obie's idea of fun was to scale the top of the tree each day.  Miraculously enough, the tree survived its first season with us and with Oblio.  Come Thanksgiving Day, the kids are going to put it up again for me and we'll do it all over again.  Heaven help Oblio, our round head cat~


Last year's return to Christmas was pretty small-scale in comparison to the way some folks celebrate with just a tree and a few things around the house.  The kids were here at home for our Christmas dinner for the first time in a long while.  We had a great time, a great visit.  For the first time in "forever", I bought the kids presents to unwrap rather than just handing them a check and saying they should go buy what they want.  We ate way too much, we laughed like crazy at stories that most of us had kind of forgotten about.  And the most miraculous thing?  I really enjoyed it, so much that we'll do it again this year.


Friends, that old shopping list from years past, by all rights and reason should have been thrown away on December 26, 2002.  Yet it survived and found its way into my hands, 8 years later, for good reason.  I've said before that the older I've gotten, the more I've stopped to consider even the smallest of things in life now.  Please dear friends, I so encourage you to do the same.  Please don't miss out like I did and remember how very, very wonderful this life truly is~even in the hardest of times.  

My 3 little kids, well they USED to be.....Ursela Hemman, Ricky Miller, Grahame Hemman on Christmas Day of 2010~

My present from Grahame last year~Zippy the monkey-just like the one I got when I was a little girl.  My parents gave it to me so I would quit asking for a real one, just like the ones I had seen on the Ed Sullivan show.  ("old lefty" was looking pretty good back then! )

back to the water

Friends~I'm thinking that 2011 is going to go down as one of the "weirdest" years in the life of Peggy Miller.  Never in my wildest dreams did I foresee any of the strange things that would happen to me during the course of 12 months' time.  Probably a good thing that I couldn't 'cause I don't think I would have ever believed it or for that matter, been brave enough to face it.


My life is filled with so much irony as of late, that my middle initial might just as well be "I" for ironic instead of "A" for Ann.  Perhaps one of the most ironic things of all is my desire to fulfill Item #3 on the "Miller Bucket List"~to return to swimming lessons at the YMCA~.


Those of you who have been reading this blog since its inception back in the early summer, will remember my quest to learn how to swim.  For those who didn't, here's a "recap" of the highlights of that point in life. 


Think back friends, like really back in time to the summer of 1965.  It was in the little town of Haven, Ks and at the pool that day were all of the kids eager and excited to take swimming lessons for the first time.  Well, ALMOST all that is.  A little 10-year old girl (that'd be me) had a horrible experience on the first day of lessons and was sure she was drowning.  Petrified of the water after that day, she spent the next 7 days clinging to the side of the pool, refusing to take part.    You know, I kind of feel bad now for my swim teachers, the poor Fisher sisters, Julie and Jennie. I have to give them an A plus for putting up with me.  


 At the end of that 8 day period when everyone else got their beautiful Red Cross swimming card saying "passed", that little girl got none.  And she went home and told her mother she was never going to get in the water again and she most certainly meant it!


Well, 45 years passed and I kept my vow of never returning to the water.  Oh there were a couple of times that I let my feet dangle off the side of a pool but I never got in again. And hey, I never had any intention of doing it either, no matter what.  That was until this summer came along and the insistence of a very dear friend.


One day that friend and I were visiting and I told him of my "bucket list" and when he learned that one of the 10 items on the list was to get my first tattoo, he had a word or two of advice for  me.  "Peggy, scratch getting that tattoo and learn how to swim well enough to save your own life some day", he told me.  Because I value this friend's ideas, I decided to do just that.  By mid-June, I was  ready for my first lesson at the YMCA.


I was scared to death at that first lesson and even though I had the best teacher ever, it didn't matter.  That pool might as well have been the Gulf of Mexico as far as I was concerned!  It took Laurie (my wonderful teacher) the better part of the first hour just to get me comfortable enough to walk into the 3 1/2 foot water.  I know, pathetic right?  But she did and she just kept encouraging me all through out the remaining 3 lessons and by the time the last lesson was over, I was learning in the 4 1/2 foot water.


My little great-niece, Meggie Dwyer, sent me encouragement and swimming tips all the way from her home in Ft. Walton Beach, Florida.  "Just relax", she said over and over and reminded me to keep my chin up, literally!  I practiced blowing bubbles in a dish pan of water for days in order to finally be able to put my face and nose into the pool.  Gradually I got used to it and seldom did I ever have a death grip on the side of the pool.  Only once did I ever get that feeling of "man, I think I'm drowning!" Laurie recognized what had happened right away and offered for me to stop for awhile.  I said, "No, let's keep going." And you know what, I did!


By the time that 4th and final session was over, I was able to face float and back float with a kick, put my face into the water without panicking as well as use a kick board to float across the water with.  All in all, not too bad for the "water phobic" that entered the water for the first time nearly half a century later on June 24, 2011.  And guess what, I didn't drown, not even close!


I knew I wanted to take more lessons and had plans to do so once school got settled down in September but unfortunately just 2 weeks after that 4th and final lesson, the accident happened.  I'm pretty flexible and can adapt to change with little fanfare, but there's no way on this earth that  I could swim with a cast on.  So for the past 3 months all I could do was think about it and dream.


Dr. Chan gave me the "green light" to return to the pool for more lessons as long as I didn't dive off the diving board...Oh yeah, fat chance Dr. Chan, that would ever happen....still laughing about that one.  But I did promise him that I would be careful, and that I shall indeed be. 


Because I'm going to be having the final surgery in late December, I will be setting up the next four lessons for the Saturdays falling after Thanksgiving.  I gotta say, this is the craziest part of it...the part where the irony comes in.  For as scared out of my mind that I was prior to starting the first four lessons, I am now anxiously awaiting the opportunity to get back in that water and try to remember all that I learned before.   My ultimate goal is to go from polliwog status to guppy status before I quit.  And I think I'm going to make it, just fine.


I'll keep you posted as to how my lessons go.  If you already know how to swim, you have my utmost respect.  That is a place in life that I had given up going to before.  If you don't know, then you have to ask yourself, "Why don't I? What in the heck is stopping me?"  Chances are good that  you will find that the only thing stopping you from doing it is you, yourself.  And the longer you procrastinate on learning how to swim, or anything new for that matter, the less time is available to you in this life.  Don't throw away the chance to learn something new like I did~life is way too short to waste it on being afraid...and if you don't believe it, just ask me!  Good night friends and good dreams to all!

My teacher, Laurie Carr and I after the last swimming lesson.  Man was I ever happy!  

  Actually did get the tattoo on my birthday~but not until I finished the first four lessons, just in case you are wondering.


Keeping my promise and heading back for the next set of 4 lessons in the next two weeks.  So glad that I listened to a friend's advice.  Didn't dream I'd ever say "I can't wait to get back into the water!"

life's mysteries

Friends, this post has nothing to do with "bucket lists" but perhaps everything to do with "I wonder why?" lists.  And my young friends who are reading this, maybe you haven't lived through enough experiences yet to even understand where this comes from....but you will, sooner or later.  Mark my words, you will.


Do you ever have those times in life when you wonder why certain things happen the way they do?  How one thing can set in place a series of things that sooner or later make their way to you?  It might take weeks or even months before you realize its full impact but once you see it happen, you can't help but think in amazement at it all.


One of my favorite phrases to quote as I have written this blog is, "It's all just a part of the plan."  And most of the time I believe that without questioning it and accept it as part of life's journey.  But other times I find it harder to understand and quite often find myself trying to figure out "why" some things happen the way that they do.  And guess what?  That approach doesn't work out too good for me.  


In fact, today as I was trying to figure out "life's mysteries", I received another "whack on the head" from God above.  And the message I got was this~"Peggy, stop trying to figure everything out.  Just trust Me that I know what I'm doing."  Any of you ever received that message from Him?  I get it all the time~and surely glad that God doesn't mind repeating Himself, over and over and over again because I seem to have a hard time giving that one up.


My life has been full of blessings and many of them have been totally unexpected ones.  Things that I never figured would happen to me seem to occur without any type of warning.  Take "Eleanor", my donor's bone segment, for example.  Because I don't know for sure who it was that gave the bone to me I can only speculate.  But this I do know, perhaps as long ago as 2009, someone lost their life.  They could have been a man or a woman, a young boy or girl.  Chances are likely that whoever it was, they were healthy and died accidentally or from some other form of trauma.  Whoever that person was, either they or their family members decided that when they died, they didn't want their life to really end without making one last difference in the world.  They made the decision to donate healthy parts of their body to someone who might need it.


Fast forward 2 years, August 4th, 2011.  A normally very careful bicycle rider (that'd be me) was riding home following a very wonderful morning ride.  Going way too fast, wearing no helmet and trying to jump a curb with her bike was a recipe for disaster.  In a split second of time, after crushing many of the bones in the wrist and arm, that rider desperately needed help.  That help came in the form of a donor's bone just a few days later.  The right people were in the right place at the right time for everything to come together.  Medical professionals knew what to do to retrieve the bone sample from my donor's body~medical professionals in Wichita, Kansas knew what to do to implant it into mine.  A series of events, very bittersweet, came together~~one life was given and another one was saved.  


I have been privileged to meet so many people in this life~many of whom I would have never dreamt to meet one day.  Our friendships have been forged through some of the strangest of circumstances, some of the most unusual series of events.  Oh man, how one thing leads to another and another and another....until finally it finds you.  


So, for life's mysteries, I still give thanks.  I may never know why some things have happened to me or why certain people came into my life at a specific point in time.  One thing I do know is this~I don't really have to know everything but I do have to trust that it was for the good.  May all of you reading this be able to accept the mysteries that life gives to you.  Don't try to figure them all out friends~sometimes it's better to not know.  Have a good evening everyone!

wherever the road should lead you~

Out of all the items on the "Miller Bucket List", can you guess which one is going to be the most difficult, the most daring one to  do?  Power parachute again? Nah, that's a piece of cake....Ride on the back of a motorcycle, very fast, and live to tell about it?  Wrong, could do that one with my eyes closed, and probably will!  Even being brave enough to go back for the next set of swimming lessons does not provide nearly the challenge that Item #12 on the Miller Bucket List provides...."to go to Maine and see a lighthouse."


Peggy Miller is NOT a seasoned traveler and if you were to ask me the states that I've been to, it wouldn't be difficult to tell you~ALL 14 OF THEM.  Even as a charter member of the "I Hate Math Club" I can do that subtraction and since 50 - 14 = a whole lot of states yet unseen, probably means that I definitely don't get away alot.  It's time for that to change.


I cannot tell you exactly how my fascination with the state of Maine or with lighthouses ever came to be.  I think a good part of it comes from reading the book, "Sarah, Plain and Tall", to my students each year.  For those of you not familiar with the book, the main character, Sarah, comes to Kansas from Maine.  The year is 1914, and she travels here to answer an ad from a widower named Jacob, who wishes to find a bride.  The state of Kansas is such a surprise to Sarah, a shock really, when she compares our dry, landlocked part of the country to her home by the sea, Maine.    She tells Jacob and his children about the colors of the sea, the blues and greens, and how she misses them.  And even as beautiful as Kansas is to me, I realized that I've never seen the blues and greens she talks about and it made me wonder what it's like to be there.  How would it feel to hear the ocean, to smell the sea, to walk along the rocky shoreline?  


The lighthouse part is somewhat of a mystery, even for me. I've always been struck by just how beautiful and majestic these "coastal skyscrapers" appear.   Could have been that I saw a photo of one on a calendar once or maybe even saw a print somewhere that really appealed to me.  One of my favorite Gordon Lightfoot songs, "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" mentions a lighthouse in one of it's verses, so maybe that even touched me in some way or another.  Whatever the reason, I want to see one and since Maine and lighthouses seem to go together, it would appear to be a logical choice for my #1 item.


Here's where the difficult part comes in.....part of the reason why, at age 56, I've only been to 14 states is because I'm such a "home body".  As a matter of fact, if I'm away from home for more than 3 or 4 days that feeling of "home sickness" starts to surface rather quickly and I actually feel miserable.  I've always been that way~my entire life from being a little kid to a nearly 60-year old woman now.  And what great opportunities I've missed because of that.  Friends, because I'm definitely "trading daylight for dark" now, if I want to see what America's really like, then I'm going to have to leave the comforts of my own state of Kansas and find out.  That may take some courage......


I've visited with so many friends about their travels all over the U.S. and the world.  Just recently a friend was telling me of his journeys all over the U.S. and to be sure to see the North Eastern part of the country and all of the beauty that it has to offer visitors.  Others have shown me the beautiful pictures taken there when they went in the autumn to catch the beautiful color displays of the changing trees.  I believe that I'd like to see that as well.  


It will take some planning on my part to make this  kind of a journey happen.  The first part of the planning is making the commitment of my time and maybe if I make that commitment in "print" well, you guys out there can help me "hold my feet to the fire."  So, today, November 13th, 2011, I officially declare the weeks of June 1-15, 2012 my time to full fill Item #12 of the Miller Bucket List, "to go to Maine and see a lighthouse".  Whew, that was a lot easier than I thought it would be.  The hard part must be coming later or something.


As I plan this journey, I'd sure be interested in hearing your ideas about what you think would be fun to see and to do while visiting Maine.  Perhaps many of you have been there before, or for that matter, live there now.  I'm open to any and all suggestions so please, let me know!  


I'm a life-long resident of Reno County, Kansas and I must say I can't think of a finer place to say I am from.  South Central Kansas, especially now the city of Hutchinson, is "home" to me.  We don't have the "blues and greens" that the ocean has to offer but we do have "seas of golden wheat" stretching as far as the eye can see.  Each state, each region of this country, has much to offer any visitor willing to give the time to do so.  I'm proud of my home state of Kansas and as Sarah did in the book, "Sarah, Plain and Tall", it is here where Peggy Scott Miller's name is written in the dirt.  Wherever yours is written, rejoice friends and be so glad in it.  Let the journey begin~

There's a great big world beyond my home on 14th Street~I'm getting ready to set out to find it.

REMEMBERING ELEANOR

OK friends, after sitting in front of this computer screen for the better part of an hour, trying to figure out how in the heck to start this post....I've come to the decision that it's better to not "beat around the bush" and just get to the point.  May I please talk to you about something that's very important to me, especially now since the accident that so badly injured "old lefty" in early August.  I wish to talk to you about organ and tissue donation.

I must say, right from the "get go", if you are one who has already decided against organ donation that this post is NOT going to be one that tries to persuade you to change your mind.  I'm a very firm believer in the fact that the decision to do so is a very, very personal one and no one should ever feel forced into doing it.  I believe that your "no" is a holy one and I respect you for it.  But perhaps there are some of you reading this post who have never considered the possibility of donating your organs or tissue when you die to others who need it to live.  To you and everyone else I say, here is my story.

Six days after my cycling accident, I checked into the Surgery Center of the Kansas Orthopaedic Center in Wichita in order to do whatever I could to save my left arm, hand and wrist.  Life looked a little grim to me that morning as I made my way to Wichita for a 7:30 surgery, one that I hoped would allow my arm to have a chance to be rebuilt and then heal.  I'm sure that I looked a sight, sporting a heavy cast that was all connected to a devise called an external fixator.  It was that apparatus plus 2 pins that held my "Humpty Dumpty" arm together.  I didn't figure there was anywhere to go but up!  I had nothing to lose and hopefully a working arm, hand, and wrist to gain.  

The very lovely external fixator device....it looks painful but really wasn't.  It was the only thing holding me together for nearly a week.  

The surgery began on time and in fact, was completed just a little over an hour later.  I was awake for it, with only a "block" in my left arm pit that numbed "old lefty" pretty dang good.  For the most part, I was awake and could hear the doctors working feverishly to put in a plate and some screws to hold everything together.  It seemed like stitching me up took longer than the actual surgery and before I knew it, I was being wheeled into recovery.  

One of the very first things that I was handed, in fact it WAS the first thing, was a small envelope with a message written inside from the Musculoskeletal Transplant Foundation.  My recovery nurse handed it to me with a kind smile on her face and told me that during surgery I had received the gift of someone's bone material to help to rebuild the shattered radius that the doctors encountered during surgery.  She also showed me an 12-digit number that matched the identity of  my anonymous donor.  If I wished, I could contact the donor's family, via the MTF, to thank them for their loved one's gift.

It was a moment in time that I will never forget as long as I live and at first, it was such a shock that I didn't know what to say.  I had no idea that I might be the recipient of someone's bone....heck, I didn't even know they could do that.  And talk about a bitter-sweet feeling....my arm was saved but only because someone had died.  All I could do was cry and thankfully no one there thought anything worse of me because I did.  They were quick to tell me that I wasn't the first nor would I ever be the last to become emotional about being the recipient of another person's body parts.  I will always remember laying my right hand over on "old lefty" at the precise spot I imagined the donor's bone to be.  It was as if I was hugging that person, acknowledging that my life would never again be the same and that "unknown" person had saved my arm, and hey even perhaps my life.

When I returned home, one of the first things I did was to write a note of thanks to the donor's family, sending it to the MTF office in Connecticut.  They would, in turn, forward it on to the family for me.  I waited, hoping to hear back from them, and when I didn't nearly 2 months after mailing it, I contacted someone at the MTF office.  I received a kind response from them explaining that I might not hear back right away or even at all.  The letter explained that chances were good that my donor could have died up to 2 years ago and that for some families the time after the first year anniversary of their loved one's death is quite difficult.  Although I was a little disappointed to not learn more about the person who gave me their bone, I respectfully understood their decision.  Who knows?  In time I may receive some type of communication from them~but I want it to be when they are ready.  


In the recovery room that day, I lay there trying to think about what kind of person could have given me the bone.  For some strange reason, and most of you know this, the name "Eleanor" popped into my mind.  Friends, there was absolutely NO reason for me to think of that name.  The only "Eleanors" in my brain's data base are Eleanors Rigby and Roosevelt.  But yet I did and I felt there was a strong connection between my donor and that name.  Remembering of course, that I was pretty "happy" with morphine at that time that may indeed explain it.  But "Eleanor" that person became and when I felt really low, like there was absolutely no way to go on with that heavy cast, I just thought about the other person who now was living inside me and you know what?  It helped me to stay focused and to go on.


In December, I have been asked to make a journey to Kansas City to speak at a dinner honoring those in our area who work with our local transplant foundation.  Several of us, recipients of transplanted organs or tissue, will be there to tell our story about how our lives were impacted by being given a chance at a healthy life because of someone's decision to donate their useful body parts at their death.  I gladly accepted the invitation to attend and speak, one very small way to "pay it forward" on Eleanor's behalf.  I spend a lot of time these days, researching the subject of organ/tissue donation and learning as much as I can in order to be prepared to discuss it with anyone who is interested.  And by the way, this teacher of 34 years, has a LOT to learn!


Thank you guys for letting me share this much  with you today.  Item #10 on the Miller Bucket List, "to promote understanding for the cause of organ/tissue donation" is going to keep me busy for a while.  There's a lot of people waiting out there my friends who desperately need us all to consider this upon our death.  It's not a fun subject to think about....but it is a part of life and if it were us who were in need, I'm thinking we'd be hoping someone would consider helping us.


Today, I am thanking God for the journey.  My life has been one of the strangest things, at times. Everything that has happened to me, during all the 20,000+ days of my existence, has happened for some very good reason.  Even the "bad things" kept leading me on towards all of the good that was waiting for me.  Wherever your journey takes you today, may it be with peace and safe travels.  I love you all dear friends and count it a blessing to call you "friend."  Peggy Miller is STILL more determined than she is afraid.