I AM SORRY I AM SUCH AN INCONSISTENT BLOGGER!
If you haven't gathered from my previous posts, I am a ridiculously busy and involved college student. After another fantastic summer as a camp counselor once again I came back to school, helped out with Freshmen Orientation, joined my Residence Hall's board as the Public Relations Officer (because I like crafts and decorating!), started up Dance Team again and joined another dance group on campus- BAM; Bust-a-Move Beavers! Oh and that's not to forget my job as a writing tutor! Can you say busy?! I wouldn't have my life any other way! Alright so I left this blog hoping to be in an independent study this semester to begin a book about my life (or something along those lines) but unfortunately it didn't work out so I will be starting that this January! Until then I have done a little bit of writing and I am going to copy in my latest piece about dealing with Crohn's! It was for one of my psych classes and we were instructed to write a self help book. Maybe this could get me started on my actual book?! Who knows! Enjoy reading!
Crohnie 4 Lyfe!
Holly Elizabeth
Finding Your Guts
By Holly Legere
Forward: If you’re reading this, you or someone you know was probably recently diagnosed with IBD. If for some reason you just picked this book off the shelf for a fun read, I’ll provide a little background. IBD, or Inflammatory Bowel Disease, occurs throughout the length of the digestive tract in either the form of Crohn’s disease or Ulcerative Colitis. It is an autoimmune disease where the immune system fights off healthy tissue and creates inflammation; this results in cramping, pain and poor digestion. That would be the extremely short version of the diagnosis. Make sure you are comfortable talking to your doctor to better understand the diagnosis; understanding is a big part of healing.
Okay! Before you go any further, take a moment and pat yourself on your back for making it this far! You now have a reason for feeling sick or losing weight! Most of the work has been passed off to the doctors now! If we look at Abraham Maslow’s basic needs for human motivation, you’ll see that the first thing to get in check is your “physiological needs.” With IBD, this entire need is thrown into the hands of health care professionals. It is their job to make sure you are digesting the nutritious properties of food that you need and that you are no longer living in pain. Now that you have a diagnosis you can start finding your way back to living, actually living, a great life!
Lets be honest with each other for a minute. Staying constantly positive and upbeat may be really difficult right now, and for good reason. You are learning to live a new life. This doesn’t mean that you have to give up everything you knew from your old life. Truthfully you will probably be starting a better life now than you ever lived before. You may need to learn to adapt to new changes like remembering to take medications or going to doctors appointments regularly but the goal of this book is to help you restore your quality of life. IBD can’t be cured by reading a book but hopefully this will help you realize that living a great quality of life is still in your hands!
Alright, so we’re just going to skip over your “physiological needs.” Yes, they are important, but for now we’re going to leave them for the doctors to handle. The second Need in Maslow’s hierarchy to take care of is “safety needs.” When you get to this chapter you’ll find some tips on making sure you feel comfortable handling your new life. Understanding your diagnosis and the medical world is a big part to feeling safe and can play a huge difference when it comes to reaching a new, better quality of life. Continuing the hierarchy we’ll reach “love needs.” Everyone reading this could be at a different point in their life and have different ideas of love but simply put, it can all be the same. As humans we strive for acceptance. Whether it be continuing to be accepted by those you already have formed relationships with or receiving a new acceptance with those you hope to form a relationship with, sharing about IBD can be difficult. Although we want and strive for this acceptance, this book will show you that acceptance may not be the most important part in finding a better quality of life.
Next we see the esteem needs. In a way this plays into those of love. When being accepted and loved, our esteem benefits. The idea that acceptance is not everything needs to be understood. If someone doesn’t have the capability or want to learn to accept IBD, then your time could be better spent elsewhere. This is where esteem comes in. Finding or continuing something you love doesn’t have to be lost with this new diagnosis. I say now is the perfect time to find that new hobby you have always wanted. Your body is working on getting healthy and finding a new hobby is the perfect way to remind yourself that you are still you, not someone ruled by IBD!
Goal setting is also a key point to finding your guts and living life to the fullest. Setting small goals to get yourself back on the right track will ensure you find the quality of life you have always wanted and deserved. These steps will be directed differently as everyone is at a different stage of life or diagnosis. They may start with learning to swallow pills and develop into new crazy hobbies you never saw yourself accomplishing.
I hope that through reading this book you will be able to take the steps to finding your guts and coping with IBD. As intimidating as it may seem, it can be easily broken down and you will be back on your feet and taking on the world in no time. IBD doesn’t have to get in your way and put your life on hold. This is a new opportunity to define yourself and your guts. Keeping asking yourself what the next step towards accomplishment could be! Good luck on your journey to discover your guts!
Friday, November 16, 2012
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
The Aftermath
Hello All!
Sorry it has taken me a while to update about being back from Peru, but school has gotten really busy and I have been working on a paper about the trip for my English class! So! I have copied the paper in below and I really hope you all enjoy it. Its the last week of classes here at Farmington and Finals week is approaching but hopefully after that I will be able to post more! The Take Steps walk is fast approaching so help out with the donations! (http://online.ccfa.org/goto/legere)
Thanks for Reading!
Holly
I was alone in the middle of the Peruvian wilderness. 100 yards in each direction, there was no one. There was a rough cobblestone path, tall green winding trees covered with different colored mosses and vibrantly colored flowers. Looking out through the trees past the mountain side, there were valleys and peaks as far as I could see. The Earth looked so different from anything I was used to in Maine where the mountains are now considered hills by my standards. The landscape looked painted, like something out of a book, and bigger than anything I’d ever seen.
The crux of a climb is the hardest part. At the crux there are only two things going through your mind. You are concerned about tackling the task at hand without falling or scraping your legs on the rock. Then there is the nagging thought in the back of your mind that you have almost accomplished the hardest part and soon it will be easy going to reach the top. Keeping these two thoughts in check gets you up the climb. When you stop focusing on the rock and pay too much attention to what is ahead, you’ll fall. Then again, knowing that you will be able to rest after the climb allows you to strain yourself more during the crux. Depending on which route you are climbing, you face a different crux.
At first, it was peaceful being alone. Trust me, the self reflection speeches you can give yourself in the middle of the Andes are as inspiring as the mountains themselves. After an hour of hiking, the stairs got steeper and I could no longer keep my body moving by distracting myself with my own thoughts. All alone, on the side of some random mountain in Peru, the only thing I could hear was the crunching of my thick, unsteady, hiking boots hitting the rough trail. I don’t know why it happened, but a panic started to set in. Maybe it was the reality that I was on my own, in the middle of a cloud forest, with jaguars and pumas lurking at the edge of the trees, ready to pounce. I was overcome with the powerful need to fall to the path, curl into a ball, and begin crying all the tears out of my body. If I just got over the crux, I would be able to finish the trail, make it to Machu Picchu, and earn bragging rights within my family for the rest of my life. I realized that I could do this. I had to do this. There was no way I was going to be carried down the mountain. The next resting stop had to be close by so I put all my focus into making it to the small area that was bound to have yet another breathtaking view.
Taking the ageless advice from Santa Claus, it was all I could do to “put one foot in front of the other.” For the last forty-five minutes of the hike, I focused entirely on my clunky feet. I rhythmically placed one boot down after the other, making sure my footing was just right. Adding my trekking poles, I wasn’t just hiking, I was dancing up the mountain. By putting a beat and a repetitive movements to my walk, everything became easier. My breathing developed a pattern too and along with it, I found a way to work my way over the crux.
The first time I landed myself in the hospital, I realized that I couldn’t complain about what I was battling. I didn’t see the other inpatients dutifully completing their required number of laps for the day to speed up discharge; I saw them inching higher to take down their own crux. There were ten year olds who were so light they could stand on the base of their IV poles to be pushed around and infants who didn’t have parents to rock them when they began to cry. This was particularly hard because being a patient myself, I wasn’t allowed to pick them up, but every instinct in me said that I should. Everyone had a different story, and everyone was pushing their bodies to its limits to feel better. Seeing these kids take charge of their lives made me realize that there was no point in complaining and feeling like I couldn’t do it. If they could do it, so could I.
One of my closest friends in the hospital was battling cystic fibrosis, neurofibromatosis, and had been diagnosed with cancer during my stay. Shea was used to the hospital; the smell of sterile plastic, the tasteless food, and getting exactly what she wanted from the nurses. She was 12 when I met her and I was 15, but that didn’t mean anything. Shea taught me the ropes of the hospital, the ins and outs: which computers were always unoccupied and available for use, where to get the good arts and crafts, and most importantly, how to boss around the nurses. She wasn’t mean about it, but she knew how to get her way so that she could be more comfortable. One of the most beneficial tricks was asking the nurses to strain the noodles from Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup which had much more flavor than the chicken broth sent up from the cafeteria. Shea knew the lay of the land. She had grown up in the hospital, and having her by my side, I knew I had to work my way over the crux.
It was Shea and so many other patients I met in the Barbara Bush Children’s Hospital that I was thinking of when I felt like falling to the path created by the Inca’s six hundred years ago. They never let their challenges keep them down. If Shea fell, she did everything she could to grab hold and keep working her way up the climb. This is exactly what I did as I started methodically working my way up the trail. Each step took a full second; the fastest I was able to move due to the altitude. This in itself is mentally exhausting when your body is so used to moving at a faster pace. Most athletic challenges require someone to perform the fastest. This was all new, the slower you moved, the better you were doing. Every few meters meant you were rewarded with a break to gulp down two lung-fulls of oxygen.
The last day of the trek was at the lowest altitude we had been at in days and was, for the most part, downhill. Before the trip I would have assumed that this was going to be the easiest day. Waking up on our island in the clouds that last morning, I knew I was completely wrong. Before I even rolled over to sit up, I could feel the fire crawling up my calf muscles, into my thighs and through my back. By the time I got myself into a standing position, I was convinced there was no way my legs would be able to carry the weight of my body, let alone my pack, with the flames that were clearly burning through my flesh. I do a lot of hiking, and I love being outdoors. In the past, I had never had a problem where I felt like I just couldn’t complete the task at hand, like I was defeated. The only time I could think of was when I decided it was finally time to have surgery to remove my colon, but even that ended up being a step forward instead of a step back.
Past hiking experiences started flooding my head, but there had never been a time where I had experienced such challenges. The closest time probably came during the week long adventure course I participated in. I lived in the woods for a week (longer than the 3 nights I spent in the Peruvian Wilderness!) with a small group of kids my age, all getting ready for college. Not only did we learn survival skills like fire building (which you can’t even do on the Inca Trail), but we learned a lot about how to find ourselves as well. During the week we did some short solo hikes that we used for reflection, journal writing, and lots of “group therapy sessions.” We talked about how far we had come even though we were so young, and how far we wanted to go. Our hardest physical challenge was a two day trek through the Maine woods. Most of us had brand new hiking boots that hadn’t been broken in and we were all suffering from inflamed feet. Our highly developed teen minds “discovered” that if we kept moving and stomping our feet “the blood would flow and the pain would be gone!” This probably only worked because of the placebo effect.
Sometime between waking up and sitting down at our last breakfast, I decided that I was going to go back to that week in the woods. I just needed to stomp around a bit, get the blood flowing through my muscles again, and focus on the ultimate goal of the trek: reaching Machu Picchu! My ambition was strong and I started the day off leading the group down the never ending stairs; we all know what goes up, must go down. I held the lead or close to it for most of the day. Each step I took down the mountain sent a tremor up my leg. My muscles were working as hard as they could to hold my body in an upright position. Each time we stopped for a break, my legs would begin shaking uncontrollably, just another message from my muscles that this was the hardest they had ever worked. This was the last day. I had to push myself. I was about to reach one of the seven wonders of the world.
As we began to pass one of the many set of ruins along the trail, I spotted a large, fluffy animal standing on the edge of a terrace. Being in the lead, I laid eyes on the first wild alpaca we had seen. If this didn’t make the day a little easier, the views did. Walking on the very edge of the mountain, one misstep could send me tumbling down to the Urubamba River. This released a combination of adrenaline and surrealism that made me invincible. I needed to take everything in, remember it all, because, in reality, I wouldn’t ever make it back. The pain I had experienced while nestled in my cocoon that morning had disappeared as I put every bit of mental capacity into remembering what pictures would never be able to describe. That day in Peru, I lived in the sky, floated down the path, no longer paying attention to my footing and rhythmic gate.
Eventually, it had to end, but it went out with a bang. Our guide stopped us just outside the Sun Gate, pausing to reflect on how far we had come, and how we were far superior to all those other people who took the bus to Machu Picchu. Stepping through the Sun Gate took my breath away more than the lack of oxygen I had experienced over the past four days. Until this point, there had been ruins to explore, but nothing as large or intact as the site that lay before us. This moment meant more than the accomplishment of the trek. Three months before I had been recovering from surgery and never would have dreamed that I would have accomplished so much. It went even further than this. I have taken years to reach the point in my life where I could forget about Crohn’s and go out and live more than your “Average Joe.” Walking through the Sun Gate meant I had completed the Inca Trail, and with that, I had moved one step closer to taking down Crohn’s, just another crux on my cliff.
Sorry it has taken me a while to update about being back from Peru, but school has gotten really busy and I have been working on a paper about the trip for my English class! So! I have copied the paper in below and I really hope you all enjoy it. Its the last week of classes here at Farmington and Finals week is approaching but hopefully after that I will be able to post more! The Take Steps walk is fast approaching so help out with the donations! (http://online.ccfa.org/goto/legere)
Thanks for Reading!
Holly
Conquering the Crux
I was alone in the middle of the Peruvian wilderness. 100 yards in each direction, there was no one. There was a rough cobblestone path, tall green winding trees covered with different colored mosses and vibrantly colored flowers. Looking out through the trees past the mountain side, there were valleys and peaks as far as I could see. The Earth looked so different from anything I was used to in Maine where the mountains are now considered hills by my standards. The landscape looked painted, like something out of a book, and bigger than anything I’d ever seen.
The crux of a climb is the hardest part. At the crux there are only two things going through your mind. You are concerned about tackling the task at hand without falling or scraping your legs on the rock. Then there is the nagging thought in the back of your mind that you have almost accomplished the hardest part and soon it will be easy going to reach the top. Keeping these two thoughts in check gets you up the climb. When you stop focusing on the rock and pay too much attention to what is ahead, you’ll fall. Then again, knowing that you will be able to rest after the climb allows you to strain yourself more during the crux. Depending on which route you are climbing, you face a different crux.
At first, it was peaceful being alone. Trust me, the self reflection speeches you can give yourself in the middle of the Andes are as inspiring as the mountains themselves. After an hour of hiking, the stairs got steeper and I could no longer keep my body moving by distracting myself with my own thoughts. All alone, on the side of some random mountain in Peru, the only thing I could hear was the crunching of my thick, unsteady, hiking boots hitting the rough trail. I don’t know why it happened, but a panic started to set in. Maybe it was the reality that I was on my own, in the middle of a cloud forest, with jaguars and pumas lurking at the edge of the trees, ready to pounce. I was overcome with the powerful need to fall to the path, curl into a ball, and begin crying all the tears out of my body. If I just got over the crux, I would be able to finish the trail, make it to Machu Picchu, and earn bragging rights within my family for the rest of my life. I realized that I could do this. I had to do this. There was no way I was going to be carried down the mountain. The next resting stop had to be close by so I put all my focus into making it to the small area that was bound to have yet another breathtaking view.
Taking the ageless advice from Santa Claus, it was all I could do to “put one foot in front of the other.” For the last forty-five minutes of the hike, I focused entirely on my clunky feet. I rhythmically placed one boot down after the other, making sure my footing was just right. Adding my trekking poles, I wasn’t just hiking, I was dancing up the mountain. By putting a beat and a repetitive movements to my walk, everything became easier. My breathing developed a pattern too and along with it, I found a way to work my way over the crux.
The first time I landed myself in the hospital, I realized that I couldn’t complain about what I was battling. I didn’t see the other inpatients dutifully completing their required number of laps for the day to speed up discharge; I saw them inching higher to take down their own crux. There were ten year olds who were so light they could stand on the base of their IV poles to be pushed around and infants who didn’t have parents to rock them when they began to cry. This was particularly hard because being a patient myself, I wasn’t allowed to pick them up, but every instinct in me said that I should. Everyone had a different story, and everyone was pushing their bodies to its limits to feel better. Seeing these kids take charge of their lives made me realize that there was no point in complaining and feeling like I couldn’t do it. If they could do it, so could I.
One of my closest friends in the hospital was battling cystic fibrosis, neurofibromatosis, and had been diagnosed with cancer during my stay. Shea was used to the hospital; the smell of sterile plastic, the tasteless food, and getting exactly what she wanted from the nurses. She was 12 when I met her and I was 15, but that didn’t mean anything. Shea taught me the ropes of the hospital, the ins and outs: which computers were always unoccupied and available for use, where to get the good arts and crafts, and most importantly, how to boss around the nurses. She wasn’t mean about it, but she knew how to get her way so that she could be more comfortable. One of the most beneficial tricks was asking the nurses to strain the noodles from Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup which had much more flavor than the chicken broth sent up from the cafeteria. Shea knew the lay of the land. She had grown up in the hospital, and having her by my side, I knew I had to work my way over the crux.
It was Shea and so many other patients I met in the Barbara Bush Children’s Hospital that I was thinking of when I felt like falling to the path created by the Inca’s six hundred years ago. They never let their challenges keep them down. If Shea fell, she did everything she could to grab hold and keep working her way up the climb. This is exactly what I did as I started methodically working my way up the trail. Each step took a full second; the fastest I was able to move due to the altitude. This in itself is mentally exhausting when your body is so used to moving at a faster pace. Most athletic challenges require someone to perform the fastest. This was all new, the slower you moved, the better you were doing. Every few meters meant you were rewarded with a break to gulp down two lung-fulls of oxygen.
The last day of the trek was at the lowest altitude we had been at in days and was, for the most part, downhill. Before the trip I would have assumed that this was going to be the easiest day. Waking up on our island in the clouds that last morning, I knew I was completely wrong. Before I even rolled over to sit up, I could feel the fire crawling up my calf muscles, into my thighs and through my back. By the time I got myself into a standing position, I was convinced there was no way my legs would be able to carry the weight of my body, let alone my pack, with the flames that were clearly burning through my flesh. I do a lot of hiking, and I love being outdoors. In the past, I had never had a problem where I felt like I just couldn’t complete the task at hand, like I was defeated. The only time I could think of was when I decided it was finally time to have surgery to remove my colon, but even that ended up being a step forward instead of a step back.
Past hiking experiences started flooding my head, but there had never been a time where I had experienced such challenges. The closest time probably came during the week long adventure course I participated in. I lived in the woods for a week (longer than the 3 nights I spent in the Peruvian Wilderness!) with a small group of kids my age, all getting ready for college. Not only did we learn survival skills like fire building (which you can’t even do on the Inca Trail), but we learned a lot about how to find ourselves as well. During the week we did some short solo hikes that we used for reflection, journal writing, and lots of “group therapy sessions.” We talked about how far we had come even though we were so young, and how far we wanted to go. Our hardest physical challenge was a two day trek through the Maine woods. Most of us had brand new hiking boots that hadn’t been broken in and we were all suffering from inflamed feet. Our highly developed teen minds “discovered” that if we kept moving and stomping our feet “the blood would flow and the pain would be gone!” This probably only worked because of the placebo effect.
Sometime between waking up and sitting down at our last breakfast, I decided that I was going to go back to that week in the woods. I just needed to stomp around a bit, get the blood flowing through my muscles again, and focus on the ultimate goal of the trek: reaching Machu Picchu! My ambition was strong and I started the day off leading the group down the never ending stairs; we all know what goes up, must go down. I held the lead or close to it for most of the day. Each step I took down the mountain sent a tremor up my leg. My muscles were working as hard as they could to hold my body in an upright position. Each time we stopped for a break, my legs would begin shaking uncontrollably, just another message from my muscles that this was the hardest they had ever worked. This was the last day. I had to push myself. I was about to reach one of the seven wonders of the world.
As we began to pass one of the many set of ruins along the trail, I spotted a large, fluffy animal standing on the edge of a terrace. Being in the lead, I laid eyes on the first wild alpaca we had seen. If this didn’t make the day a little easier, the views did. Walking on the very edge of the mountain, one misstep could send me tumbling down to the Urubamba River. This released a combination of adrenaline and surrealism that made me invincible. I needed to take everything in, remember it all, because, in reality, I wouldn’t ever make it back. The pain I had experienced while nestled in my cocoon that morning had disappeared as I put every bit of mental capacity into remembering what pictures would never be able to describe. That day in Peru, I lived in the sky, floated down the path, no longer paying attention to my footing and rhythmic gate.
Eventually, it had to end, but it went out with a bang. Our guide stopped us just outside the Sun Gate, pausing to reflect on how far we had come, and how we were far superior to all those other people who took the bus to Machu Picchu. Stepping through the Sun Gate took my breath away more than the lack of oxygen I had experienced over the past four days. Until this point, there had been ruins to explore, but nothing as large or intact as the site that lay before us. This moment meant more than the accomplishment of the trek. Three months before I had been recovering from surgery and never would have dreamed that I would have accomplished so much. It went even further than this. I have taken years to reach the point in my life where I could forget about Crohn’s and go out and live more than your “Average Joe.” Walking through the Sun Gate meant I had completed the Inca Trail, and with that, I had moved one step closer to taking down Crohn’s, just another crux on my cliff.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Im in Peru!
First off, I would like to say that you will have to excuse my typing because I havent exactly figured out the Spanish keyboards. I cant put apostrophes in so I hope it doesnt make it too hard to read and if something else comes up Ill try my best to figure it out! So heres a start of my trip!
After about 21 hours of traveling I finally got some sleep when I landed in Lima! I met up with most of the team, Ashley, Linda, Michelle, and Karen in Toronto and then Rob, Phil and Norm at the hotel in Lima! So after 6 hours of sleep (not enough after the long trip!) We headed out on a tour of Lima city! I saw the first catholic church here in Peru and the Fransican Monistary! I have plenty of pictures of them coming later, but I cant upload from my camera right now! We also got to see some of the beach, downtown Lima and some local ruins. After our tour we ventured off to some shops and malls to soak up the sun, and I actually got a bit of a sun burn but it seems to have cleared up! That night we packed everything up again because we left for Cusco at 630 am! In preparation for Cusco and the high altitudes I have been drinking TONS of water! Below is a picture from the day in Lima with the water bottles I collected throughout the day! I dont think I have ever been so concerned about the color of my pee! But it seems to be working well because so far I havent had any problems with the altitude.
SO! Yesterday we arrived in Cusco. I have been so tired and not successfully catching up on sleep from the long day of traveling that I slept the entire plane ride (only 50 minutes) but I dont even remember taking off. I did wake up just in time to take some awesome pictures of the mountains from the air! LOOK HOW AWESOME THIS IS! It doesnt even compare to the Rockies! At first I had no idea how there could be an airport with enough landing room for our plane, but the pilot banked AROUND a mountain to the point where I thought we were going to drop our of the sky and pulled us safely into Cusco! Check it out!
So yesterday was a free day around Cusco. I used more spanish yesterday than I have the whole trip. I have been designated the translator because I know the most spanish out of the 10 of us, even if it isnt all that great! But, Ive been holding my own and Im pretty happy with how well I understand others!
I like Cusco a lot more than Lima! Its less crowded and Americanized. We got to see a parade yesterday and GUINEA PIG. I didnt eat any, but I sure saw it. Poor things! Ill have more pictures when I can download from my camera! So far I am having a FANTASTIC time! I love it so much and I am so glad I get to be here! Hopefully more to come soon! We start the trail on Wednesday so I will try to update before then. Thanks for reading!
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Waiting!!!
This is another piece I wrote for my English class, but it is closely tied to Peru! I just can't wait!
Waiting, Waiting, Waiting
Waiting. Waiting, waiting waiting. Currently I’ve been doing a lot of waiting. I sit here and wait for an idea to come to me about waiting. I am hoping that if I just keep blabbering on like this I will find something to write about. So when were some times in my life that I have waited? Well, I really think that you’re always waiting for something. Theres the whole idea of looking for the destination but not taking in the journey. I feel like people do that a lot. They are so excited about what they will have for dinner they spend all afternoon waiting for it, or they spend all week waiting for the weekend. I guess the big thing I am waiting for right now is my trip to Peru. Yes, maybe I should be spending a little more time in the moment, but how can I with Peru looming over my head.
I am waiting, waiting, waiting, to get on the plane and head over 4,000 miles to Peru for 10 days. My day is consumed with thoughts about what I need to pack, if I’ll be in shape enough for the trip, or how I am going to deal with the altitude. Waiting for this trip is stressful! Stressful because I have to keep up with my school work, and how am I supposed to be focused on school work when everything going on in my head is revolved around a foreign country? I will sit down to write a paper, automatically open my browser, and open up a Google search of Machu Picchu and begin brainstorming about being there. I can see myself in in the pictures, smiling, ecstatic and taking every moment in.
So what should I be doing right now, besides mindlessly doing homework and going about daily routines until I can get back to day dreaming? Maybe I should just be taking in the moment. Enjoying the beautiful day with the birds chirping and the smell of spring. Each puddle on the sidewalk becomes an obstacle in between me and Peru. To occupy my mind, I eat, or work out, to help get my body in shape for what I’m about to do. But my mind is still on over drive. There are so many thoughts, flying through the fibers in my brain, and I can’t seem to sort it all out. Waiting does that. The wait has triggered the procrastination skills that I have developed all too well over the years, hoping that things will move faster if I am not focusing on the tasks at hand. With only a week left, maybe I will try to take in the small things and appreciate the moment. Admire the quiet of my dorm and get ahead on work before I head off out of the country. Its wishful thinking, but waiting seems to be a force I haven’t yet figured out how to control. I think I’ll go look at more pictures of the Andes.
Waiting, Waiting, Waiting
Waiting. Waiting, waiting waiting. Currently I’ve been doing a lot of waiting. I sit here and wait for an idea to come to me about waiting. I am hoping that if I just keep blabbering on like this I will find something to write about. So when were some times in my life that I have waited? Well, I really think that you’re always waiting for something. Theres the whole idea of looking for the destination but not taking in the journey. I feel like people do that a lot. They are so excited about what they will have for dinner they spend all afternoon waiting for it, or they spend all week waiting for the weekend. I guess the big thing I am waiting for right now is my trip to Peru. Yes, maybe I should be spending a little more time in the moment, but how can I with Peru looming over my head.
I am waiting, waiting, waiting, to get on the plane and head over 4,000 miles to Peru for 10 days. My day is consumed with thoughts about what I need to pack, if I’ll be in shape enough for the trip, or how I am going to deal with the altitude. Waiting for this trip is stressful! Stressful because I have to keep up with my school work, and how am I supposed to be focused on school work when everything going on in my head is revolved around a foreign country? I will sit down to write a paper, automatically open my browser, and open up a Google search of Machu Picchu and begin brainstorming about being there. I can see myself in in the pictures, smiling, ecstatic and taking every moment in.
So what should I be doing right now, besides mindlessly doing homework and going about daily routines until I can get back to day dreaming? Maybe I should just be taking in the moment. Enjoying the beautiful day with the birds chirping and the smell of spring. Each puddle on the sidewalk becomes an obstacle in between me and Peru. To occupy my mind, I eat, or work out, to help get my body in shape for what I’m about to do. But my mind is still on over drive. There are so many thoughts, flying through the fibers in my brain, and I can’t seem to sort it all out. Waiting does that. The wait has triggered the procrastination skills that I have developed all too well over the years, hoping that things will move faster if I am not focusing on the tasks at hand. With only a week left, maybe I will try to take in the small things and appreciate the moment. Admire the quiet of my dorm and get ahead on work before I head off out of the country. Its wishful thinking, but waiting seems to be a force I haven’t yet figured out how to control. I think I’ll go look at more pictures of the Andes.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
All things Peru!
I am so unbelievably excited for this trip. Over the last few weeks I have been doing a lot to get ready, so I figured I'd post an update! I still can hardly believe its happening, 3 months after surgery. I can't believe my parents are letting me leave the country without them! (Especially because of how jealous they are that I am hiking the Inca Trail before they do!) I can't believe that all I have to pay are my personal costs (Thanks to Convatec's sponsorship!) I can't believe I have been given this opportunity! There are many things I can't believe, but it is becoming more real each day, and I am sure it will really hit me when I head home this weekend to start packing!
So far I have been putting things aside that I know I will need. I have had to go out and buy numerous pairs of pants for hiking in because the temperature will be around 40 to 60 degrees Fahrenheit, although when I'm there I will have to figure out Celsius! I have also been searching around for different foods to bring and eat now to keep my energy up! I have found these really good "Zone" Bars that are delicious (because there is lots of chocolate!) and there are no nuts or granola pieces in it that I can't eat!!! They also have 200 calories and a lot of protein and vitamins! I have also been having a Boost shake a day which is another really good source of calories and protein and CHOCOLATE!
So besides buying a ton of things to get ready for the trip, I also have been working on getting in a little bit better shape! (Not that I was in bad shape, I just need to be able to hike for 6+ Hours a day.) So aside from hitting the gym and getting back into Zumba classes regularly, I went skiing on Sunday which was really great! Once we got back from skiing, (around 5:15) we rushed off to Zumba for 5:30! Needless to say, yesterday I was incredibly sore, but hopefully it will be worth it so I won't be as sore when I'm in Peru!
This weekend I will be heading home to pack up my bags because I leave in 9 days! Next Thursday my parents will come and pick me up and we will head down to Portland from Farmington so I can be at the airport for 4:30 in the morning! My parents have been doing a lot for me back home, ordering pants and rain gear! Hopefully I will get everything taken care of this weekend! For now I really have to try to focus on school work, which unfortunately is a little difficult with such a great trip coming up!
Thanks for reading!
Holly
(This is a picture from skiing Sunday!)
So far I have been putting things aside that I know I will need. I have had to go out and buy numerous pairs of pants for hiking in because the temperature will be around 40 to 60 degrees Fahrenheit, although when I'm there I will have to figure out Celsius! I have also been searching around for different foods to bring and eat now to keep my energy up! I have found these really good "Zone" Bars that are delicious (because there is lots of chocolate!) and there are no nuts or granola pieces in it that I can't eat!!! They also have 200 calories and a lot of protein and vitamins! I have also been having a Boost shake a day which is another really good source of calories and protein and CHOCOLATE!
So besides buying a ton of things to get ready for the trip, I also have been working on getting in a little bit better shape! (Not that I was in bad shape, I just need to be able to hike for 6+ Hours a day.) So aside from hitting the gym and getting back into Zumba classes regularly, I went skiing on Sunday which was really great! Once we got back from skiing, (around 5:15) we rushed off to Zumba for 5:30! Needless to say, yesterday I was incredibly sore, but hopefully it will be worth it so I won't be as sore when I'm in Peru!
This weekend I will be heading home to pack up my bags because I leave in 9 days! Next Thursday my parents will come and pick me up and we will head down to Portland from Farmington so I can be at the airport for 4:30 in the morning! My parents have been doing a lot for me back home, ordering pants and rain gear! Hopefully I will get everything taken care of this weekend! For now I really have to try to focus on school work, which unfortunately is a little difficult with such a great trip coming up!
Thanks for reading!
Holly
(This is a picture from skiing Sunday!)
Monday, February 20, 2012
Who wants to go to Peru?!
Hello there Readers!
I have some interesting news! I have been in contact with a counselor from Youth Rally, a camp that I went to for a couple of years ago. The Youth Rally is a camp for kids with a large variety of different bowel or bladder disfunction's, and as you may have guessed, Crohn’s is one of them! I attended Rally the summer after I had my first ileostomy put in place and I got to meet a lot of other kids with ostomy bags too, which is part of the reason I am so comfortable with mine! The second year I attended rally we had 2 guest speakers who were my age. They had just finisher participating in a trek (a hike to the base camp of Mt. Everest!) with IBD adventures to raise money and awareness for IBD, Youth Rally, and Camp Canada (the equivalent to Rally but in Canada.) I had just recently started rock climbing because of another summer camp I go to, Leaders School. I really took an interest in climbing and hiking and when I heard that you could combine that with raising awareness for IBD, I knew I had to get involved. After the presentation I talked to Rob, and he said he would keep me on his radar.
SO! After persistently messaging Rob and trying to get on one of these treks, I finally heard from him about a year ago about hiking the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu in Peru. I immediately went ballistic. If you don’t already know, I lived in South America for 2 years when I was younger, but Machu Picchu was one of the very few tourist sites my family was not able to visit, therefor it has been on my families bucket list since my brother and I are grown up! The thought of getting to go there AND raise awareness just sent me off the edge! So I worked with Rob and got together sponsorship papers to help me pay my way.
I filled these out back in August.
The trek begins March 16th.
The last time I heard from Rob was right before I had surgery to remove my colon.
There is no way I am going to make this trek, because sponsorship hasn’t come through.
WRONG-O!
4 Days ago I got a facebook message AND an email from Mr. Robert Hill, informing me that my sponsorship had gone through. I had a way to get to Peru. PERU. In South America! Not Peru in Maine (although there is one.) So my blood pressure shot up as my adrenaline started pumping and I quickly dialed my parents phone number asking for my passport to be scanned and sent to me. Well, that call is what reminded me that I had surgery less than 3 months ago. Crud. I got my passport and started working with Rob on some more information, but what are the chances that I my parents will really let me travel out of the continent EXACTLY 3 months after surgery (Yup, December 16th to March 16th. 3 months.) Honestly, I had this gut feeling that it wasn’t going to work out. I had been working for a year to get this to happen and month before hand its just going to fail. Not to mention that I hadn’t done ANY fundraising because I didn’t know if I was going to make it. I also haven’t exactly been working out, I mean, I go to dance team practices and Zumba, but is that really the same as the cardio and aerobic exercises I would need to get ready to be hiking at such a high altitude? So, no, I’m not going to Peru.
BUT WAIT. I got home for February break and had Rob call my parents. My entire trip is paid for, I don’t NEED to fundraise, and one of the kids who climbed to the base camp of Everest was only 2 months out of surgery. I have the will power, so why can’t I do it? After the longest 30 minute phone call ever, my dad put the phone back in the receiver, looked at me, and said “You’re going to freakin’ Peru.” So thats it! Its official! I’M GOING TO FREAKIN’ PERU!!!!
So, ladies and gentlemen, here is the low down.
I leave for Peru March, 16th to meet up with part of the team in Toronto and fly to Lima from there. I get to spend a few days in Lima and then take a plane to Cuzco where I will spend another 2 days acclimating before we start the trek! The trek is then a 4 day hike. We will be spending 8 to 10 hours walking everyday and then spending the night in camps. On the 4th day, we get to wake up at 4am to reach Machu Picchu and take a tour! I don’t want to spoil much more, but that is the basic itinerary!
I am not going on this trip to fundraise. I am going on this trip to raise something else. Awareness. I have always been a huge advocate and I have spoken at a couple different places about my story, but this is the biggest chance I get! My mission is not to get 1 $100 donation, but to get 100 $1 donations. If you are reading this, it would mean a lot to me if you could stop over on the Youth Rally page and donate to camp so that other kids can have the same opportunity I did, and maybe get to where I am one day! But if you can’t, try to find time in your day to talk to someone about IBD, direct them to my blog! Spread awareness!
Check out the website! http://ibdadventures.com/
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Decisions
This is another paper I wrote to show imagery and detail for my writing class. It discusses the decision I made to have my colon removed this past Christmas. I am doing really really well now and already back dancing with the dance team at UMF and skiing with friends! Hope you enjoy a little bit of my story!
I was sitting on the exam table, watched by the evaluating eyes of my doctor, surgeon, and concerned parents. “I just want it gone” I repeated for what was probably the tenth time in the conference. My parents sat side by side watching me, reading my face as they had learned to do after 18 years. But I could read theirs back. They were worried. It was time. Time for me to start making my own decisions. Even though they could talk to me and help in my decision making, ultimately the choice was up to their little girl. They could see that this was what I wanted; I could see this was what worried them most. In the medical world, once you turn 18, living with your parents isn’t enough for them to make decisions for you.
I had the spotlight, everyone was focused on me. It had been four grueling years of new medications, IV nutrition, central lines, surgeries and weeks missed of school. I was done. I didn’t want to save my colon any longer. Looking into my doctors eyes I realized I had streaks of tears running down my face. She looked defeated, disheartened by the idea that after four years in her care, we had exhausted all medical treatment. My stomach climbed into my throat and streams crawled down my face. I felt as though I was giving up, something I had a very little experience with. But I wasn’t giving up; I was making a decision necessary for me to live my life. “Improving my quality of life” is how the doctors referred to it. Getting rid of the problematic colon would give me the chance to be me. It wasn’t giving up, it was moving on. I was moving on from weeks of hospital stays, pain and the ever growing list of toxins being dumped into my body. I was moving on to be an adventurist, a student and a leader. I wasn’t giving up.
I knew what I wanted. Swallowing more chemicals and playing guessing games with medications wasn’t going to get me up a mountain. I knew the only thing that would give me the active life I wanted and make me happy was to undergo surgery. The mood shifted in the room as my audience came to terms with my decision. I was finally going to get rid of my large intestine.
The ticking began as my doctor started typing in her computer, filing forms to send me through to surgery. My surgeon pulled out consent forms, and my parents looked at me, knowing this was the decision I’d had coming for years. The pen was passed like the olympic torch as I signed my life into the hands of my surgeon. It was now up to his skilled hands to take me apart and put me back together in order for me to have the “quality of life” that I wanted to live by; the quality of life I had not had in over four years.
I sit here today, with what hardly seems to be an empty cavity in my stomach. Although six feet of my intestine are now incinerated and gone, I finally feel whole. I can finally be the active, energetic, leading person I have always wanted to be. I didn’t lose part of myself, I gained what I had been missing the whole time. My quality of life is where it is supposed to be for any nineteen year old college student. Yes, I am now missing six feet of what most people assume is a vital organ, but I have gained a life.
Recovering in the hospital the day after surgery! Up in a chair and everything!
This was skiing at Sugarloaf in mid-January with my friend Katie!
Thanks for reading!
<3 Holly
I was sitting on the exam table, watched by the evaluating eyes of my doctor, surgeon, and concerned parents. “I just want it gone” I repeated for what was probably the tenth time in the conference. My parents sat side by side watching me, reading my face as they had learned to do after 18 years. But I could read theirs back. They were worried. It was time. Time for me to start making my own decisions. Even though they could talk to me and help in my decision making, ultimately the choice was up to their little girl. They could see that this was what I wanted; I could see this was what worried them most. In the medical world, once you turn 18, living with your parents isn’t enough for them to make decisions for you.
I had the spotlight, everyone was focused on me. It had been four grueling years of new medications, IV nutrition, central lines, surgeries and weeks missed of school. I was done. I didn’t want to save my colon any longer. Looking into my doctors eyes I realized I had streaks of tears running down my face. She looked defeated, disheartened by the idea that after four years in her care, we had exhausted all medical treatment. My stomach climbed into my throat and streams crawled down my face. I felt as though I was giving up, something I had a very little experience with. But I wasn’t giving up; I was making a decision necessary for me to live my life. “Improving my quality of life” is how the doctors referred to it. Getting rid of the problematic colon would give me the chance to be me. It wasn’t giving up, it was moving on. I was moving on from weeks of hospital stays, pain and the ever growing list of toxins being dumped into my body. I was moving on to be an adventurist, a student and a leader. I wasn’t giving up.
I knew what I wanted. Swallowing more chemicals and playing guessing games with medications wasn’t going to get me up a mountain. I knew the only thing that would give me the active life I wanted and make me happy was to undergo surgery. The mood shifted in the room as my audience came to terms with my decision. I was finally going to get rid of my large intestine.
The ticking began as my doctor started typing in her computer, filing forms to send me through to surgery. My surgeon pulled out consent forms, and my parents looked at me, knowing this was the decision I’d had coming for years. The pen was passed like the olympic torch as I signed my life into the hands of my surgeon. It was now up to his skilled hands to take me apart and put me back together in order for me to have the “quality of life” that I wanted to live by; the quality of life I had not had in over four years.
I sit here today, with what hardly seems to be an empty cavity in my stomach. Although six feet of my intestine are now incinerated and gone, I finally feel whole. I can finally be the active, energetic, leading person I have always wanted to be. I didn’t lose part of myself, I gained what I had been missing the whole time. My quality of life is where it is supposed to be for any nineteen year old college student. Yes, I am now missing six feet of what most people assume is a vital organ, but I have gained a life.
Thanks for reading!
<3 Holly
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Lazy me and English Class
WELL. I OBVIOUSLY suck at blogging. But I'm hoping it will get better, I am going to start uploading some of the papers I am writing for an English class because they are mostly personal narratives about me and the people I surround myself with. Perhaps someone will find them interesting! The first one I will attach is about dance, and how I've felt on stage through the years!
“Mr. Smee, Thats Me!”
I spent a lot of time thinking about a time I’ve been different or pretended to be different than who I am. At first when I couldn’t think of anything I thought maybe I wasn’t being honest with myself. When I thought about it, I have always tried my hardest to be myself. I’m not saying I never have, I don’t think thats possible in adolescence. There were surely times in middle school, when I was trying to find a group I fit into, where I tried to crack some funny or “inappropriate” inside joke, but nothing that stands out. Racking my brain for a story I could recall details of, I soon realized there was, or were, times when I was continuously pretending to be someone else.
I have been a dancer all my life. Even before I started taking lessons, I was a dancer. My mom would teach me the basics, because she was once a dancer too, and I’d take off twirling around the room, spinning in my own little world to the music playing in the background. After I began taking lessons, I climbed the ladder of levels quickly. I started preforming in ballets, first as a duckling in “Peter and the Wolf,” then a pumpkin and a firefly in “Cinderella,” and next I landed my first lead role! I got to dance as the Apprentice in “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice.” At the time, I was in 5th grade, heads shorter than everyone else, and was the scrawniest stick figure you’d ever seen, but when I set foot in the studio for rehearsal, I got to be “The Apprentice.” I put my heart and soul into rehearsals, hoping to get each and every pas de chat, chassé, and pirouette just right before the many members of the water danced their way around the stage only to throw me in the fountain before I could be saved by the old Sorcerer. On the stage magic happened when I truly became The Apprentice. The lights felt hot on my skin as I stole the Sorcerer’s wand and found my way to the center of the stage where I soon fell asleep. I was no longer pretending to be punished for causing a disaster with brooms and water, I had actually caused it, and I was actually in trouble. This was the first time I ever truly became someone else. You can feel the role take over your body, a magic that can only happen when the curtains rise and the lights heat up your skin, and you realize you are on display for everyone in the audience, like a lizard in a tank.
My favorite role to play was not a lead. As Mr. Smee in “Peter Pan” I got to dance an evil, squeamish, side kick pirate, who perhaps wasn’t ready to take on all that was thrown his way. This character was so far from who I had grown to be, as a now 18 year old soon-to-be-college student, but I completely fell in love with it and grew into the part. I distinctly remember performing opening night, on a small stage in Dover-Foxcroft, hearing the audience laugh as I comically struggled and put all my weight into pushing the cage filled with lost boys onto the stage. The whole show allowed me to be a comical character, something you don’t often get to perform in ballet.
I played with the cues from the audience as I mimicked other dancers, or was thrown across the stage by the commanding Captain Hook. When Hook’s hat was accidentally thrown off in the thrilling fight scene I crept in from the wings, and claimed the hat for my own head! I didn’t need to use words to tell the audience that timid Mr. Smee was going to be as cool as Captain Hook one day!
At the end of the show when I heard the applause and laughs as I took my stumbling bow, I knew I had successfully become the character, not just played the part. This feeling was reinforced by my ballet instructor approaching me after the show and exclaiming, “Holly, you ARE Mr. Smee. You commanded the audience like no other person on that stage.” So, maybe I should have let Wendy or Peter have a little glory, but the audience had become my friends, and I wanted to show all the little girls with big dreams of becoming ballerinas, that it is more than tutu’s and tight buns, (although I did have a very tight bun stuffed under my bandana!) It is about playing a part so well that you become the character, and have the time of your life on the stage.
SMEE PICTURES!
This first one is a scene on the pirate ship where I chased around MY personal side kick Starkey.
And here I am with Captain Hook!
“Mr. Smee, Thats Me!”
I spent a lot of time thinking about a time I’ve been different or pretended to be different than who I am. At first when I couldn’t think of anything I thought maybe I wasn’t being honest with myself. When I thought about it, I have always tried my hardest to be myself. I’m not saying I never have, I don’t think thats possible in adolescence. There were surely times in middle school, when I was trying to find a group I fit into, where I tried to crack some funny or “inappropriate” inside joke, but nothing that stands out. Racking my brain for a story I could recall details of, I soon realized there was, or were, times when I was continuously pretending to be someone else.
I have been a dancer all my life. Even before I started taking lessons, I was a dancer. My mom would teach me the basics, because she was once a dancer too, and I’d take off twirling around the room, spinning in my own little world to the music playing in the background. After I began taking lessons, I climbed the ladder of levels quickly. I started preforming in ballets, first as a duckling in “Peter and the Wolf,” then a pumpkin and a firefly in “Cinderella,” and next I landed my first lead role! I got to dance as the Apprentice in “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice.” At the time, I was in 5th grade, heads shorter than everyone else, and was the scrawniest stick figure you’d ever seen, but when I set foot in the studio for rehearsal, I got to be “The Apprentice.” I put my heart and soul into rehearsals, hoping to get each and every pas de chat, chassé, and pirouette just right before the many members of the water danced their way around the stage only to throw me in the fountain before I could be saved by the old Sorcerer. On the stage magic happened when I truly became The Apprentice. The lights felt hot on my skin as I stole the Sorcerer’s wand and found my way to the center of the stage where I soon fell asleep. I was no longer pretending to be punished for causing a disaster with brooms and water, I had actually caused it, and I was actually in trouble. This was the first time I ever truly became someone else. You can feel the role take over your body, a magic that can only happen when the curtains rise and the lights heat up your skin, and you realize you are on display for everyone in the audience, like a lizard in a tank.
My favorite role to play was not a lead. As Mr. Smee in “Peter Pan” I got to dance an evil, squeamish, side kick pirate, who perhaps wasn’t ready to take on all that was thrown his way. This character was so far from who I had grown to be, as a now 18 year old soon-to-be-college student, but I completely fell in love with it and grew into the part. I distinctly remember performing opening night, on a small stage in Dover-Foxcroft, hearing the audience laugh as I comically struggled and put all my weight into pushing the cage filled with lost boys onto the stage. The whole show allowed me to be a comical character, something you don’t often get to perform in ballet.
I played with the cues from the audience as I mimicked other dancers, or was thrown across the stage by the commanding Captain Hook. When Hook’s hat was accidentally thrown off in the thrilling fight scene I crept in from the wings, and claimed the hat for my own head! I didn’t need to use words to tell the audience that timid Mr. Smee was going to be as cool as Captain Hook one day!
At the end of the show when I heard the applause and laughs as I took my stumbling bow, I knew I had successfully become the character, not just played the part. This feeling was reinforced by my ballet instructor approaching me after the show and exclaiming, “Holly, you ARE Mr. Smee. You commanded the audience like no other person on that stage.” So, maybe I should have let Wendy or Peter have a little glory, but the audience had become my friends, and I wanted to show all the little girls with big dreams of becoming ballerinas, that it is more than tutu’s and tight buns, (although I did have a very tight bun stuffed under my bandana!) It is about playing a part so well that you become the character, and have the time of your life on the stage.
SMEE PICTURES!
This first one is a scene on the pirate ship where I chased around MY personal side kick Starkey.
And here I am with Captain Hook!
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