Can you believe I’ve been blogging for 2 1/2 years? It seems both like an eternity and like no time at all. Isn’t it weird how time works that way?
Anyway, I’ve been going back through the blog from the beginning – now that I feel I generally actually know how to blog. I’ve been making sure everything is categorized, and that there are pictures in every post, and all that jazz.
I thought it was going to be sort of tedious and laborious. It’s actually been heartwarming, and interesting, and even kinda fun.
And I just had to share this entry, which shocked me. I came in last – last – in a 10k. I was expecting to read about the shame. Instead, I read, “As people say, ‘the last place finisher is the slowest winner’… I’d rather come in last than not come in at all!”
Who is that? Who’s that who’s talking? I have been of the “if you’re not first, you’re last” mindset my whole life. I took home silver instead of gold in the math pentathlon in 3rd grade, and I hid under a bench crying for an hour because of how disappointed in myself I was for not winning.
That is me. That is Aurora. So who is this crazy girl who’s happy just to be there?
Then, there’s a paragraph at the end about how thankful I am to be running. It was so interesting to me… I mean, I am thankful to be running of course.
But I think now I sort of feel this pressure because I have a blog and people actually know me as a runner and all of this. And I can’t just be slow and silly forever. I need to improve my times. I need to improve my fitness.
But I suppose it is good sometimes to be able to think back to that level of thankfulness, and say, “yeah, I guess it is great to be able to run.”
I don’t know if I really said anything in this post, but I was just surprised and wanted to share…
A sign from the bathroom from my first lab tests in California… I thought it was a funny/interesting/sketchy bathroom, and that I’d take this picture for you…
Picking up from last time –
I honestly felt like from practically the moment I walked in the room, this woman was not on my side.
I am not one to usually blast people on the blog – especially when they can’t really defend themselves due to HIPAA laws… I won’t use her name or anything. But I’m telling this story, baby!
I like to be nice and tell the nice part of things. But sometimes things have to be told, and this is one of them.
So, within the first five minutes, I could tell she wasn’t going to recommend me to give a kidney. Yet, we still talked for another hour! I don’t know why.
I can’t pinpoint what happened in the first five minutes that made me know she wasn’t on my team. Maybe I was reading something that wasn’t there? (Kind of doubt it.) But I knew.
Now let’s get to the specifics of one of the worst conversations I’ve ever had.
She asks me what my big life stressors are. I say, “I know this is totally cheesy. And I’m sorry to answer this way, but everything is really wonderful in my life right now.”
I was feeling thankful and happy! After all, I live in the dopest apartment in all of Los Angeles. Every day that I walk in the lobby, I think about how lucky I am to live in such a nice place.
I’d recently finished my 52 half marathons. My dad was there supporting me. Even one of my role models Cory Booker congratulated me!
I had just finished a pretty sweet job.
I was riding high Price is Right. I even have this post from around that time where you can see. I was just wildly, grossly happy.
But when I said that, oh did she furrow her brow so deep. Please just, every time I say anything in this conversation, imagine the deepest furrowed brow possible on her part, because that is how she reacted to every single thing that I said.
Then, in a goading way, she was all, “Oh come on. Something’s stressful for you. How’s the money situation?”
I was all, “Money’s good. I mean, I’m not rich or anything. But I work a lot at nice jobs. I have all my basic needs met. I’m not worried. I’m good.”
Then, stupidly, because she was staring me down, and practically challenging me to be stressed (and she seemed to be pushing me to be stressed about money specifically) – grasping at straws trying to give the “right” answer, I said something like, ‘Well, I guess it sometimes stresses me out how horribly the California unemployment office operates. It’s hard to talk to a real person. I’m only just now getting paid for the Christmastime weeks. [This was happening in March.] So, I guess that can be really annoying just dealing with that.’
I didn’t realize that mentioning unemployment was going to be such a freaking huge thing. She acted as though just mentioning that word, I must constantly on the edge of a financial meltdown.
Hey lady, I freelance. It’s part of my life. I don’t personally know a single person in my industry who hasn’t filed unemployment at one point or another in the last few years. (I’m sure there are many wealthy people who probably don’t. But every person I’ve met on my level, and really a little above mine, totally does.)
This seemed to be a freaking huge point of contention with her. “You know you don’t get unemployment while you’re in the hospital, right?”
I do know that. There are a lot of restrictions on unemployment.
You know that unemployment doesn’t pay that much money, right?
I don’t want to sound ungrateful. Every bit of money always helps. But I’m not going to implode from a couple of planned weeks without any money. Of course it’s not ideal to have no money coming in, but it’s a handle-able for a but of time. It’s part of my life as a freelancer. That’s why I make at least somewhat good-ish money when I do work – to survive when I don’t.
She didn’t seem to mind me paying for this medical trip to Ohio – which happened to require a plane ticket that would be equivalent to a week of unemployment. Just saying.
Even though I did try to explain that in the nicest way I could, she wasn’t having it. Once she heard the word “unemployment,” You could see in her eyes, I was a bum to her.
I’ve learned a number of things that I think would be helpful if I were a volunteer coordinator.
1) When you offer food, get more of whatever the vegetarian option is. Places often seem to run out of it. Meat eaters are free to eat the vegetarian option if there’s too much, but it doesn’t work the other way around.
2) While we’re on the subject of food, healthy options are wonderful! It’s lovely when carrots are set out. People running on healthy food will do better work, but you’d be surprised at how many places (even places that have something to do with health) have cookies as a main snack. (I don’t want to sound unappreciative about food. These are just takeaways I have.)
3) Appreciate your volunteers. I can tell you off the top of my head the organizations that sent me a thank you card (Western Justice Center and Hope University), because an actual thank you card in the mail really stands out. American Bone Health handed out Certificates of Appreciation at their event. That was almost a little silly for one day of work (though they did ask us to watch a lot of presentations beforehand, so maybe that’s why).
4) Speaking of presentations, think about what you can really expect from your volunteers. If people volunteer to work for a few hours on one Saturday, they are most likely not going to want to watch presentations that total more than that amount of time. (And for the Bone Health thing, we didn’t even need all that extra information. And that’s not the only place that expected something like that (with little gain for the volunteers).)
I love information. Information is wonderful. (And ultimately, I guess I really would err on the side of too much as opposed to not enough. So, I can’t super complain about this one…) But people can only take so much information (especially before an event they’re barely involved in, when they’re not thinking much about it).
So, try to maybe be a little careful as you walk the delicate line between telling volunteers everything they’d want to know, and too much. Email enough reminders so people don’t forget, but not so many that they feel overwhelmed. (People are emailed a lot in life.)
It’s helpful to include important information (date, time, location) in bold.
Things that are interesting or clear to see (charts, graphs, spreadsheets, infographics, or even nicely laid out emails) are easier to scan and take in than big pages of information barely broken up.
5) If you have to overbook your volunteers (as you most likely will), personally, I think it’d be nice to tell them they’re the overbooked group. At least they’ll know what they’re getting into, and can try to come somewhat prepared with a book or something.
Or even better yet – have some kind of project you need done. There *has* to be something the extra people can do – take pictures of everyone who’s working so you can have stuff for your social media presence, organize files on your computer that no one’s gotten around to, make spreadsheets of some sort. Every organization has to have some work that needs to be done, right? So, it boggles my mind when I’m told there’s nothing to do…
6) (And this is sort of just a nice bonus) Tell some interesting facts. The Los Angeles Food Bank had a video with interesting statistics in it. Operation Gratitude told us how many care packages we’d made by the end of the day (and they had awesome food trucks outside – though that does go against my fight for healthy eating at the beginning ;)).
Those are the takeaways I can think of. Can any of you who volunteer a lot think of any more?
I’ll admit I’ve been taking on sort of a lot lately with various marathon training, working a lot, plus all the volunteer activities and yada yada yada. There’s always an excuse. It’s too easy to say “I’m busy.” There are people doing a million more things than I am.
So, I’m handling it all and not trying to complain here. But still, sometimes I’m tired. I might end up working late and going to bed late, and sometimes I just want to sleep in. (That maybe sounds a little weak, but it happens.) And I think sometimes my sort of tiredness has been coming through.
When I go to volunteer activities with an open heart, excited to be there, it’s a different feeling than “Oh my goodness, as soon as this is over I need to get to the next one (or to work, or to sleep, or the gym, or wherever else in the world I might need to go).”
As I’ve said before, attitude is a humongous part of life. My joyous attitude slipped a bit when there were multiple times in a pretty short time span that I got sent home from an event early because there was nothing to do…
But technically, if I’m as cool and enlightened as Cory Booker seems, then nothing could change my attitude. Conceivably, your attitude is supposed to be something you decide. Everything else that happens around you is just stuff that happens. It doesn’t affect anything.
However, I’m not that enlightened. I do get cranky sometimes because of things happening around me.
And I think sometimes it’s been a little stressful trying to make sure I hit all my numbers of volunteer activities. I’m trying to pile on in the beginning, because I do not want to be volunteering during the holidays. And those false starts where I go and there’s nothing to do, so I go home – they’re slowing me down!
I think the goal of 52 in a year is a good one because it keeps me accountable, and it’s measurable. It shouldn’t be all that wildly difficult (aka totally doable), yet it’s still difficult enough to feel like there’s a challenge aspect to it.
But sometimes it seems like I might be getting slightly too worried about the numbers, and losing my focus on the actual important parts – helping others, growing, learning, enjoying the experiences as they come – all that stuff.
I have one more post about being mid-way through this project, where I’ll talk about what I’ve learned if I ever were a volunteer coordinator – tomorrow.
Why yes, I do in fact have one more selfie in the medical office after my CT with contrast with my rosy cheeks and all because I love making faces… and I am hardcore runnin’ out of photos, y’all!
Picking up from yesterday –
Oh goodness. Let me set the scene.
I literally felt like I was on a reality show. You know how on reality shows they keep contestants on weird schedules, and don’t let them sleep, and they feed them as little as possible, and the producer feeds them a bunch of leading questions in interviews, and all that jazz – basically everyone behind the show just doing their best to push contestants to the brink to be as emotional as humanly possible to make for great TV?
That’s what I felt they were doing to me!
I had some test I had to do after all these meetings for which I had to be fasting. So I hadn’t gotten to eat all day. (And if you’re wondering why I didn’t just eat first thing in the morning because I still could’ve had 8 hours – it’s because I’d been told I had some other blood test in the middle of this day for which I also had to be fasting. So, there was no time of the day when I wasn’t fasting for one of them.)
So, I wasn’t allowed to eat during this entire Big Kidney Day. The day started super early in the morning. I’d been asked the same exact questions all day long by all the different people. (Why do you want to give a kidney? Why do you want to do it in Ohio? Why do you want to give to a stranger? Etc. Etc.) So, by the time I saw the psychologist – the very last interview at the end of a long and draining day, I might add – I’d already said everything 8 times already.
Once I was talking to her, I started feeling like a crazy person repeating myself. “Uh, have I already told you this part?” It was all running together. It was all just orchestrated so perfectly… I’m honestly surprised to hear a producer wasn’t behind it all, and that I wasn’t secretly being taped.
Okay. I am honestly so unbelievably upset about this horrible, horrible, infuriating conversation. I’m over here reminding myself to breathe… So, get angry. Get ready. And let’s start it on Wednesday.
There have been some things that haven’t been quite so perfect.
I’ve learned that many places overbook volunteers. I understand why they do it, because it’s easy to lose people. I hate admitting that even I have bowed out of an event here or there because something changed with my work schedule. I always give as much notice as I can – but sometimes that’s not a lot.
So, I understand why places do it. But then when everyone shows up, it can get really boring for the people with nothing to do. Then it starts to feel like a waste. “What am I doing with my time? Why did I trek over here?”
It also makes it that much easier to have thoughts run through my head of, “Eh, I’m tired. I could blow this one off. They probably won’t need me anyway.” Of course, that could then feed into the problem of places feeling they need to overbook. So, it’s sort of a cycle, I suppose.
It’s a running complaint with many volunteers. I didn’t know how common it was until I heard other volunteers mentioning past events where they felt totally useless.
I think one thing that sort of combats this problem is getting specific assignments ahead of time. I got a grid sent to me for a gala I’d be working. It stated very clearly who’d be working what, and what times they’d be doing it. You could see your place where you’d fit, and you could see that you were indeed needed. I found that helpful.
Not only looking to what places can do to be better, I can look at myself too, because I think there are things I could be doing better.
Something similar to what happened during my 52 half marathons is happening here. In the middle of the project, I sort of felt a little lull. It’s not the exciting beginning. It’s not ramping up to the end. It’s just there in the middle, and you want to power through, and get that middle part done.
I think the middle could be just as awesome as the bookends, yet in both projects I’ve felt a bit of a lull…
I’m more than halfway through my 52 volunteer activities project. So, I wanted to check in with how I’m feeling, how it’s going, and all that jazz.
This has been a worthwhile project for me, and overall it’s been enjoyable.
I’ve learned a lot. For instance, I’ve learned about more problems than I really knew existed (such as the incredible lack of phys ed in many schools), and I’ve learned about many cool organizations (that I also didn’t really know existed) working to solve those various problems (such as Trash for Teaching which melds sustainability with creativity).
I’ve gotten to push myself in new and cool ways. I uprooted dead trees and painted kids’ faces – things I don’t have experience doing. So, that was wonderful.
I found out about some awesomely cool stuff I’d never heard of before – such as ice cream made without using a freezer (in a responsible, sustainable, and delicious way), and a game made for blind people that’s mesmerizing to watch.
So, basically, wow! What an interesting and fulfilling year it’s been thus far.
It’s also been interesting to me to think more about various issues. I fed the homeless, but then on my police ride-along, I heard that’s not really all that helpful. (So the questions start to come up of what is really doing good?)
I also was very happy to help an organization I strongly believe in, but I did it by doing girls’ hair. That made me question, am I really helping to empower women by doing their hair? Or am I playing into stereotypes?
So, there’s been a lot of questioning, reflecting, learning, and basically all sorts of good stuff going on for me this year.
I don’t know if I always get the answers right, or if perhaps sometimes I maybe even ask too many questions (though I think that’s almost an impossibility). But it’s been interesting for sure.
While this has been generally the good stuff, I have some other stuff to say about this project tomorrow.
This volunteer activity took place right down the street from my house. Bone health? Convenience? Sounds good to me!
Well, first off, do I even really believe in the things American Bone Health is preaching?
If you’re a long-time reader of the blog, you saw my vegan challenge and know that at the time I was all, “oh my precious dairy. I love dairy. Don’t I need it for strong bones?”
But in the time since, I’ve been reading and listening to different places about different things… And as much as I hate to admit I may have been wrong, I do think that our information on dairy is heavily influenced by money. The National Dairy Council has an agenda. Of course they do, and it’s not bad to have an agenda. Don’t we all have some sort of agenda, even if it’s a good one? We all have some interest to protect.
The National Dairy Council has its interest, and its money flows freely to protect that interest. But I will say, I have cut way, way down on my dairy… and I feel great.
I understand that feeling great now doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Will I have weak bones someday? Do I feel great because of any other number of changes? I’ve been losing weight. I’m sure that contributes… But has part of my weight loss been attributed to cutting out a big chunk of my normal dairy consumption? I dunno.
I’m kinda going on a tangent here. But we were there with American Bone Health. On American Bone Health’s website, it gives tips for getting more calcium. It gives tips for people who are lactose intolerant to be able to consume more dairy. From where were those tips adapted? …The National Dairy Council.
None of this really matters, because we weren’t even telling people to drink milk. (Just to be clear, I’m not telling people not to drink milk. I’m just not saying drink it. I’m saying I don’t know the answers.)
All we were doing was telling people if they had a high risk for fractures based on their age, weight, and lifestyle factors. If they did have a high risk, they could talk to a pharmacy intern.
One hilarious thing was that we were told to watch multiple videos (some of them long-ish) to be “trained” for this event. But we didn’t have to be that trained at all. Put info into a computer system. Hit enter. If the person is high risk, send her to the pharmacy intern. And scene.
So, that was just sort of interesting to me.
Basically, I have nothing to really say about this even. I think we saw two people in total, so 1/3 of the number of people volunteering for the event participated in the event.
Other than that, I just talked to the interesting volunteers. We talked and sat and laughed and shared. And two people found they didn’t have a high risk for fractures.
Oh, and then we got certificates of appreciation. I didn’t feel like I did much to earn it. But it’s always nice to be appreciated. 31 down! 21 to go.
The huge water bottle they gave me after my test with contrast – reminding me to hydrate
Picking up from yesterday –
So, this is super annoying because there are definitely times of the year when I work more and less than others. (I’m sure this is true of many professions.) So, telling me that March is a definite possibility when it is absolutely not at all a possibility is annoying to me.
So, the earliest I could’ve possibly given a kidney, I now found out was June. But what if June didn’t work for me? The 2nd half of the year is usually the time I work the most. Your kidney tests are only good for a year after you have them. So, if March/April was the best time for me, and I knew that couldn’t be accommodated with starting tests in December, then I might’ve waited until July-ish and started having tests looking forward to March/April the following year…
‘Cause all those labs and 24-hour urine collections I did in December/January, they all would’ve expired, and they would’ve needed to be done again had I had to wait ’til March the following year.
Of course, the point is kind of moot now because I was rejected. Also, my schedule isn’t super rigid. It doesn’t have to be March. I’m just saying, though, when I go out of my way to clarify information (at least three times during the process) and make absolutely sure I’m on the right page with what’s going on… then why don’t you just give me the full picture? What is so hard about that?
And while we’re complaining, here we go. Let’s complain again!
At the end of my day, I had to see a psychologist. Why? Because I wanted to give a kidney to a stranger.
Now, let me just say this. One of the guys from Big Kidney Day… Don’t get me wrong. I’m not at all trying to throw him under the bus. He seemed like an incredibly sweet, wonderful human being… But one of the guys barely knew his person. I mean, really.
I don’t remember the exact line of connection. But it was something like his co-worker’s wife’s church friend (or something like that) needed a kidney. But did he have to see a psychologist? No! Why? Because he “knew” the person. So, can I just ask you, where do we draw the line of “stranger”? So, to me, this seemed pretty unfair.
You know what else I find a little silly about this whole 3-month waiting period/extra psychologist visit for an altruistic donor… I would think if anyone has made a thoughtful/logical decision, it’s the person who just wants to give to a stranger. I would think there’d be way more likelihood of pressure and possible regret when family is involved. As they said in Sex and the City, “love is not logical!” You hear someone you love is sick, and your emotions jump out the window.
So, the whole things seems a bit backwards to me, but oh well. I’ll jump through your hoops. It’s fine. It’s just one more meeting. I like meeting people… usually.
After the ukulele festival, I took a little walk down to this women’s conference.
Part of the description on the website says, “The day-long conference includes health, leadership, and personal development workshops designed to address challenges of poor working families and single mothers. Workshops are designed to educate women and young girls on preventative health practices.”
So, I figured, great. I’m all about women being empowered and educated. Sounds good.
And I’m sure it was good – probably. I don’t really know because I couldn’t understand the vast majority of what was said. Even though the volunteer listing and the website itself were both in English, the entire event was in Spanish!
The printed programs were in Spanish. The lunch speech and music were in Spanish. The people in charge of the volunteers spoke English, and that was practically it.
By the way, how many times am I going to go to a place in Los Angeles where English is not understood until I truly learn that it is necessary for me to learn Spanish. I’m always saying, “I’ll learn it. I’ll learn it.” Here’s my question (to myself). When?
I don’t know when. But I do know that:
a) I should.
b) as things stand, I do not understand Spanish.
So, I get there. My instructions were to basically kill time ’til it was time to help serve lunch. So, I checked out some booths around. There was a skin care booth there run by Murad. They had this contraption in which you could stick your face, and all the greasy parts would be lit up one color, and damaged/darkening spots would be lit up another.
It was pretty terrifying and somewhat horrible. I was a bit concerned that my under eye area looked so dark. They told me that area looks dark even on elementary schoolers. Aye, aye, aye. There’s no winning. Out skin is gonna be our skin…
Of course, I’m sure the people at Murad would tell you there is some winning with their products. But I’m very stressed in general about my skin – which of course is bad for your skin. So let’s just move off this topic.
At lunch time, I helped prepare plates of food for over a hundred women at the conference. Some speech was given in Spanish. It was kind of funny to hear a crowd of people all laugh together when I had no real idea of when it was coming. It’s interesting to be in a place where you don’t understand anything at all…
After I helped plate all the food, I was done. There wasn’t much more for me to do. There were plenty of volunteers already. Some accompanied groups to the workshops. Of course, I wouldn’t have understood a word of the workshop – or anyone who tried to ask me a question.
But I was able to serve lunch. So, there you have it. Number 30 down!
I went to help count people, as this festival was going for breaking the Guinness record for the biggest ukulele ensemble.
I kinda thought they were gonna do it, and I was pretty excited for them. Alas, it did not happen.
They taped off squares in a courtyard, and we each got number. We were to all be in charge of 50 people in our square. I was square 26. (So, I would’ve had people #1300 – 1350 with me.) They needed 2,135 people to beat the record… They didn’t even get to my square.
So, basically, I just hung out. I answered some questions for some people as far as where to register. So, at least I did feel the tiniest bit helpful. Someone asked me about the official hashtag of the event. She was super into social media, and we didn’t have anything! I even checked the official sites tied to this event – and nothing. Oof.
I also met some more people from the high school diploma program with the CAS (creativity, athletics, and service) requirements. (I even ran into one of the same people from the Heart of the City 5k.)
After the failed world record attempt, I went to sign out and leave for my next event.
It was so interesting to me to see how the same event can be looked at with such different perspectives. When I was leaving, I thought of it as though we had failed. We wanted to break a record. We didn’t. End of sad story.
But as I was leaving, the very cheerful woman at the volunteer sign in/out asked, “why don’t you grab a ukulele and go play?”
It was actually exceptionally cool that they had ukuleles there that you could borrow. And the back of the event shirts had the finger patterns for the 4 different notes they used for a simple song. So even if you didn’t know how to play the ukulele at all, you could just look at the back of the shirt of the person in front of you, and jam on with the – while not world-record breaking big, still very large – ensemble.
The person at the volunteer booth seemed to think that was cool and exciting. And really, isn’t it? To be playing and instrument and sharing that experience with a bunch of strangers around you – all playing at the same time.
However, somewhat regrettably, I didn’t do it. I just went on my way to the next event that day.
Making a different face in front of the blood pressure machine, because, why not? 😛
Sort of picking up from last time –
Going back to Big Kidney Day. After the meeting with the social workers, I met with everyone else on the team. Everybody rotated around so that each of us (in the group of patients) would have one-on-one meetings with all the medical professionals.
There isn’t anything earth-shattering to report about the meetings with anyone else (well, until we get to the psychologist… but you know, in all these in-between people).
The donor advocate explained that she is there for us and purely for us. She doesn’t even have access to the charts of the people who need kidneys because they think it’s important for a person to be completely on the side of the donor without any feelings or thoughts for the recipients clouding any judgement.
I also met the nurse coordinators. I talked with the surgeon and the nephrologist. Everyone was cool and fine. Nothing big to report here – just little conversations making sure I understood everything from the morning.
The only thing about this section that bothered me was that one of the doctors mentioned, “well, the earliest you’ll be in surgery is June.” The donor coordinator happened to be walking by at the time, which was helpful, so we could clear this up.
For me, at the time, March seemed like it would be the best time to give. As I mentioned earlier, back in December, I asked how long it would take to go through the process. She said it usually takes about three months. I asked at least three times throughout the process if we were still probably on for a March donation. Each time she said if things kept going the way they were, it looked like we could be.
Only now, at Big Kidney Day, after I’d already flown to Ohio, did I find out from her as she happened to pass by in the hallway, “Oh yeah. Altruistic donors have to have an additional three-month waiting period once their application is complete.” (This is a “cooling off period” to make sure donors are really, really, really sure.)
You couldn’t have told me this anytime before this very moment?!
I mean, I guess we could say maybe at the beginning she didn’t say that, since I was being tested for someone specifically. But we found out pretty early that I was not a match for him and would be giving altruistically. So, when I kept checking in about March, you could’ve given me a heads up…
We will next time – but alas, still not this time.
This was the night of my mud run. I thought it might not be an awesome idea to volunteer later at night on the same day I had to do an obstacle course early in the morning. But my feeling was I’d take a nap. Well, I did not take a nap.
I finally got sleepy right around the time I needed to leave for the event. Eesh.
There was a big part of me that wanted to just say, “I ain’t coming!” But I’d already gotten follow-up emails, and even two phone calls (one very recently) confirming I’d be there. Flaking out is already totally horrible, but to do it when I’d been confirmed a million times – well, I just couldn’t do that.
So, I went to this night market right down the street from my apartment (that was the best part).
When I got the Human Rights Campaign booth, there were 6 of us working a 2-person table. I thought maybe it’d only be that way for a 1/2 hour of shift change. Alas, no.
Now, I have two modes. I am very energetic and outgoing and such, for sure. But sometimes, if I don’t feel like there’s a place for me, or if there are just a few too people around, I kind of turtle up a bit to give people room to take their space and do their thing. (I know. Excuses, excuses, right?)
I’m sure I looked so tired. I tried to get it together and look awake. But it was hard for me to feel engaged at a table where there wasn’t even room for everybody.
Since we were obviously overstaffed, I thought about asking if I could go home early. But I thought, “no! I cannot stay on #29 any longer. I just cannot. I will stick it out – even if that means I sit here and do nothing.”
I think the leader saw my not-quite-awakeness, ’cause he asked if I wanted to go home. I wasn’t trying to be rude or standoff-ish. It’s just hard to engage with people when your booth has way more people than the small groups that ever come over.
Since he seemed like he wanted me to go home, and I was worried my tiredness was bringing down the table, I went home, totally embarrassed.
I don’t get sent home from events! That’s not me. I’m a star! *puts hand under chin, looks up to the side [“bling” sound effect]* It was so embarrassing, and I hope to never think about it or experience it again. Eesh.
This also doesn’t yet conclude #29. Why, you ask? Because I got paid. So, I never expected this to conclude #29. And that’s all good with me.
But I thought I’d share it anyway, because I found the festival to be interesting.
I got the side gig at this festival because I’d volunteered at the Santa Monica Airport Art Walk.
I have learned through all my experiences (and through the wise words of Sutton Foster in an interview I did with her for my school paper) – you never, ever, ever (ever) turn down work, if you can take it.
(By “if you can take it,” I mean don’t blow off gigs you already have. But if you’re free and anyone offers you work, you take it because you never know to what it might lead.)
So, there you have it. You always take every job offered to you. Period.
(Side note: It was interesting to be paid hourly again. I was actually a whole lot better with money in the couple of weeks following this event… Not that I’m usually bad with money or anything. But, every time I thought about anything unnecessary such as a coffee or some gum, I’d think “that’s this many minutes of my time. Is coffee worth that?” So, that was cool. Perhaps I should work hourly a bit more often.)
As far as the actual work portion of this event, I don’t have anything wildly interesting to say. I was co-stage-manager of one of the smaller stages. Groups came and went. People were nice and lovely. It was good.
I mainly just wanted to talk about the festival itself. I thought this was such a cool idea! Does every city have a festival like this? ‘Cause this was the first one I’d heard of.
There were booth telling you how to save energy, how to take the metro more often or ride your bike. There were places where you could meet your local government officials (with cool coloring books explaining how legislation worked, so that was kind of awesome).
The library had a booth, as did places offering language classes. Basically, there was tons of stuff you could learn about to improve your life and the lives of those around you in your city. I thought it was a genius idea, and I’m so glad I was invited to work there!
Yet again, I call this a (of a and b (and actually in c in this case)) because I gotta do another activity, since I went home early from this one.
I went straight after Color Me Rad, and felt a little weird with color all up in my hair. But I figured, “it’s a party here too, so why not?” (That was actually the exact same attitude the volunteer coordinator had about it – before I even said anything.)
The main reason I wanted to volunteer with this event was because at some point, I really want to participate in this event! I found out about it back when I did my first bike ride, and have had it in the back of my mind ever since. So when the opportunity to volunteer came up, I thought that’d be an awesome way to get a feel for the finish.
I’ll say this. The ride was so staffed, and was run by people who were so on top of everything that if I were a ride, I’d feel nothing but love and such. I absolutely still want to ride. It looks absolutely spectacular!
But as a volunteer, I’d asked if I could come a little late. They said that’d by fine. But by the time I got there, there was nothing else that was needed.
They gave me a shirt (that I now feel bad for wearing since I didn’t do much). They gave me a delicious volunteer lunch. (It was super nice of them that they fed the volunteers – and with healthy and vegetarian options even.)
They looked around for something for me to do. There were a few of us who didn’t really have a station to tend to. One volunteer walked around to literally every area to see if any captain needed any more help. And not a single one did.
So, we kinda hung out. One of the volunteer coordinators suggested we go cheer so at least we were doing something. I went over to the finish to cheer. I like to think of myself as an awesome enthusiastic cheerer. But there was a whole cheer squad tumbling and such. Even the cheers were more than taken care of.
I walked around a bit, seeing if there was trash to pick up. I looked sauntered by some other stations. (Of course they were still full – and the captains I overheard were taking care of their volunteers like crazy. “Hey, you’ve been working hard. How ’bout you take a break.” “Here, I brought over some water for you.”
The atmosphere was awesome. Everybody there seemed incredible. I contemplated sticking around to see if maybe at some point they might be able to use me for something. But they were so well covered, and I had plenty of work to do on various projects. So, I hopped on a bus and headed home. (Wah wah.)
This was a couch in the lounge area of the hospital place that I thought was really cool. (As you can tell, I’m really scraping the bottom of the barrel to get photos here…)
She’s all “but you have support, right?”
And I say, “Yes, of course! I still have a big network out here. But does that matter? I’m just trying to understand.”
“But you don’t need to understand. It won’t change our procedures!”
It felt like I was in the Who’s On First sketch. (I even wrote that in my notes and chuckled when I saw it.)
At some point (I think it was before this whole circular argument business), she told me to just use google. I tried to explain that I did google things and while there was a lot of information on everything else, there wasn’t so much on what she was talking about.
Then she practically yells at me – I’m not even exaggerating! – She literally stands up, so she’s totally in the power position of seated me. She practically yells to check UNOS’s website and TransplantLiving.org – both of which I’ve been to, thank you very much.
I try to explain I’ve been to both of those sites, but I’m getting a little mousy because she’s seriously angry. Instead of matching it, I’m kind of retreating…
She honestly made me feel like I was two inches tall. I just don’t think this is what a medical professional is supposed to do.
She also told me not to come back in person. If I have a question I should email. Well, sorry! I already had to return something. I happened to be here, so I might as well ask a question while I’m here… I get maybe you don’t want your day interrupted. Eesh.
You didn’t *have* to come talk to me. As I said I was already there so I just mentioned a question. You could’ve said you were busy and emailed or called me later…
And, can we back track for one second to when she said, “We’re just like medical doctors!” And she asked me if she were a medical doctor if I’d be more likely to believe her…
During the morning of Big Kidney Day – without prompting, without us even having to ask – while the doctors were giving their lecture in front of the class (not really a class, but you know, us…), they went through every single teeny bit of minutiae – every bit!
They didn’t just tell us they did laparoscopic surgery. They told us exactly why. They didn’t just tell us the left kidney was more likely to be taken – they told us why. They told us every tiny detail anyone could’ve wanted… and they always followed it up with precisely why it was that way.
And anytime any person had any question, they were happy to throughly answer it with no problems.
So what’s this lady’s deal?!
And I get that now that I’ve spent so many days talking about this, I seem a little ridiculous. But you know how somehow you get in fights with people over the stupidest things in the universe – and when you boil it down, you’re not really arguing over whether George or Ringo is better (or whatever) – you’re really arguing to be treated better or more fairly, or to feel like you’re being heard? I think this was just one of those.
I mean, I still it’s a legitimate question to ask if the person present at my surgery has to be my power of attorney to be able to make decisions if something goes wrong… But I certainly don’t think it needed to be as big of a deal as it was.
I didn’t need to make it that big of a deal… But I refused to feel walked all over. I don’t want to have a surgery in an environment where someone on my team doesn’t seem to be looking out for my best interest – she just seems to be checking a box (and putting me down in the process). Does that make sense?
I truly am trying to live a life where I try to work on understanding more than being understood. And I’m trying to work on being patient. But in this specific situation, I am being selfish. I care about me. And I want to have a spectacular experience being a kidney patient where I trust the medical professionals around me, and I trust that ultimately they are looking out for *me* (not for themselves).
After I got home, I washed my muddy stuff in its own load – and I washed it all 3 times. Aye, aye, aye. So much mud.
In between the washing of my clothes, I just laid on my living room floor, because sitting seemed too bothersome, as did going the whole extra 30 feet to my bedroom.
(If a 5k obstacle course was this tough, I can’t wait to see what awaits for me in the Spartan Race!)
So, I guess if I wanted to break down the lessons for future mud runs, here are my takeaways:
1) Bring plenty of towels (that you don’t care too much about) and plastic bags.
2) Wear shoes you can donate.
3) Think about treating even a 3 1/2 miler like a sort of legitimate race, ’cause it was way harder than expected (but maybe that’s just for me). (I wouldn’t actually have done anything different leading up to it – I would’ve just had different expectations.
4) And then be prepared to wash your clothes a gajillion times. (And still don’t wear anything you adore, ’cause the coloring might still be off…)
5) Take a whole bunch of pictures. Get other people to take pictures. Pictures everywhere. Pictures. (And when you can actually see the photographer, give her some eye contact and make sure you mug it up with all your expressions, getting your posing on.)
Lessons aside, this was an absolutely exceptional day – one of the coolest things I’ve done maybe ever, and certainly this year. I would so be happy to do it again. Amazing, amazing, amazing, and I can’t recommend it highly enough!
So, the social worker had made such a huge stink about statistics, stating that all patients do better with tons of support and people basically crowding them after surgery.
I went online to try to find what she must be talking about. I’ll admit, I didn’t go research paper level on this or anything, but I looked. There were plenty of studies about risks of kidney donation and other related things such as hernias, death rates, all that jazz. But there wasn’t really anything sticking out about having someone stay with you versus not having someone stay with you.
One thing that is so hilarious about this is that I would be staying with someone! Whether it’s my great friend Emily for the first few days, or my parents, or my mentor/best friend who’d always open her home to me – whomever it is, my home is in California! So, I’d automatically be staying with someone if I were in Ohio.
That’s why I don’t even understand why this became an issue! If this woman weren’t so aggressive and in my face, it never would’ve been. I don’t know why she had to treat me that way. You’d think a social worker would be good at dealing with people. But you’d be wrong.
I had to go back to the transplant center in the next day or two to return a blood pressure monitor. (Sorry to fast forward a bit in the story. We’ll go back to Big Kidney Day.) While I was there, I saw my donor coordinator and asked if it was possible to ask if I could just see the studies the social worker had told me about (and by told me about, I meant shoved in my face, but I’m nice… (usually, although I’m coming across pretty hostile in this story…)).
She goes and gets the social worker for me. I have a page in my kidney notebook about this conversation that I wrote the moment I got in the car so I wouldn’t forget everything she said.
I try to explain that something just still didn’t click with me from our conversation and I’m just wondering if I could take a look at the studies.
This is where the conversation picks up in my notebook:
“I just figured you might have the statistics.”
“On hand?!”
“Maybe, because you seemed so sure.”
“I AM reallysure. But I’m not gonna give them to you. I’m not giving you studies. I’m not gonna look it up. I have other patients.”
Then she goes on this whole thing of “If I were a medical doctor would you believe it more?!”
Ah. That’s something I never once brought up or implied. So, I think we see where some deep-seeded stuff is probably going on… Not that I’m a medical doctor who can really say, but I’m just saying…
I answer that no, it wouldn’t matter. I’m only trying to educate myself.
She says that it’s good for patients to educate themselves, but it will never change protocol.
I say I’m not trying to change protocol. I just want to understand what’s so important about having people in the waiting room during a surgery from which you spend the night (and why it’s possibly necessary for multiple weeks to have someone there literally 24/7).
I don’t know if it’s UNOS mandated or hospital or what. And I’m just curious about the process and the world around me.
Then she’s all, “But the answers don’t matter. Because protocol is protocol.”
“But I’m not trying to change protocol. I’m trying to understand it.” That goes on and on in circles.
Before I write my final entry on this event (for Monday), I want to bring up the pictures really fast!
I didn’t think too terribly much about the professional pictures while on the course. (I mean, I did a little because at one point Joanna told me a photographer was there. That made me so happy to remember our big moments were being caught.)
But, once the photos came out, I didn’t see myself in practically any of them! I looked through all 18,000. (*Shakes head at my waste of time.*) I saw myself in the background a few times – you can see my face. But there are none of me looking super cool and conquer-y.
So, maybe that is the one bad thing about being blindfolded. Sometimes in half marathons or marathons, I look for the camera. When I see it, I try to look extra pose-y or fast or fun or whatever.
Here, I didn’t know where the camera was, which meant I couldn’t do all my mugging to the camera. Also, our bibs were basically never visible between the mud and the various body positions you had to be in for climbing and such. Hence, why I looked through all 18,000 to try to find sweet photos of me and my new buds.
So, thank goodness I took so many photos before/after the race, and that I had a friend who could see the last quarter mile or so and took a bunch of pictures of that.
But where am I on the water slide, and climbing up and down nets, and doing all that stuff in the middle?
(sliding down something I should be able to just walk down)
Picking up from last time –
I wrapped up all my clothing, wiped down from all the mud with a towel (so lovingly leant to me from someone in the changing tent), and left my shoes in the donate bin.
(After working so hard to get the mud out of my other shoes after Habitat for Humanity, I was having none of that. Just wear some shoes I’m willing to get rid of, and call it a day.
Then, I ate like a crazy person after the race. I ravenously wolfed down a huge sausage – yum, yum, yum.
On Friday, I’d been debating whether to go to Bar Method (my sweet workout class) with my friend at work. I wanted to take the day off since I had the race coming up. But then my friend was all, “well, if you’re not going, then I don’t want to go.”
Yep that girl is easily walking right over something I’m trying to climb over since I can’t see
I didn’t want to be the reason someone didn’t work out! So, I dutifully went. My feeling was, “I’m just being a big ol’ wuss. Who needs to take a whole day off from working out to prepare for a 3 1/2 mile run? That’s so silly! Of course I’m going to go to Bar Method!”
Little did I know, a measly 3 1/2 mile run was very tough!
(Obviously it was fine that I went to work out, but it opened my eyes to the toughness of obstacle course racing, and I will keep that in mind as I approach my Spartan race.)
I don’t know if it was the obstacles themselves, or if it was just the exhaustion of my brain working so hard to get a sense of what was going on around me. All I know is I was straight up exhausted (and starving, and thankful for all the food trucks around!). *buries face in plate of food*
*Now, this line said with my mouth full* – and I’ll continue here tomorrow.
Picking up from last time (with the reasons I shouldn’t have left my over-shirt and vest outside the women’s changing rooms) –
First, I shouldn’t have wanted to leave my clothes because, well, for one thing, this is southern California! You don’t leave anything anywhere. Ever. Or else it’s gonna be gone, my friend.
Second, I shouldn’t have left anything that was only semi-clean because what I learned in the tent while changing was that you want to put every dirty thing you have in a plastic bag while you’re naked. That way once you finally put your clean clothes on, you no longer have to touch anything muddy.
Third, it’s sort of rude. I didn’t think about it as I was doing it. But once I came out of the changing room, I learned that a janitor had come along and thrown away my clothes. We’ll get to how super sad this is for me in a second. But, for now I’ll say that if a janitor thinks I’m littering, that means most likely I put my clothes in kind of a rude place. So, I’ll own that.
Okay, end of reasons. Now let’s talk about what a bummer it is that now my bib is gone forever! I didn’t know what I wanted to do with it, but I knew I wanted to do something with my beat up, muddy, crazy bib. But, since it was attached to my over-shirt and thrown in the trash while I was changing, I don’t get to frame it or anything.
I also never get to wear my shirt from the race, since we all wore out Blindstart shirts to do the race (so that was indeed my over-shirt). I went back to the tent after the race to see if they had any more. They didn’t have a single extra shirt.
It’s all good and fine. I still have my medal, and how many shirts or bibs or other stuff does one girl need? Everything is fine, but in the moment it was sort of a bummer.
At the blind start tent, I left a $15 donation to make up for the vest and blindfold I lost (since it had been thrown away). So, that was another big bummer – losing stuff that wasn’t even mine.
Note to self – don’t ever leave your stuff around! How is this still a lesson I’m learning? I didn’t think anything would happen to some semi-muddy clothing at a mud run, but alas, I should’ve known.
I’m not telling the conversation in a totally linear way because somewhere before it got too fight-y, she asked who’d be staying with me for weeks after the surgery 24/7. I sort of chuckled a little about 24/7, mentioning something like “not literally, right? Since someone will have to run to the store or go somewhere at some point.”
And with intense eyes immediately, she said, “Absolutely 24/7.”
Are you even being serious with me right now? Oh my gosh. Great that you want me to be taken care of, but eesh.
She then said something about how statistically people do so much better when they have a constant supporter after surgery. I got maybe three words out in a sentence trying to explain, “I recovered great from open-heart surgery when no one was there,” before she cut me off hammering home “statistics!”
Yes, how could I possibly argue with numbers when I have personal experience and know how I recover from surgery? (Not even that I was actually trying to argue with numbers. But honestly, do you have to be so intense and not even let me talk? This isn’t cool.)
So, basically, intense conversation going nowhere. Eventually it ended. (Thank goodness!)
I will return to Big Kidney Day. But for the time being, let me flash forward a little just with the social worker part of it. Because once I got to my parent’s house at the end of the day, I was livid when I was talking to my dad!
(Granted, more stuff will come later to help justify my high level of rargh. But already, we’re up to a pretty good amount.)
Now, my dad, who is more stubborn than I am(!) (I know, right?) – and by the way, argues for a living – he said he wouldn’t have standed for someone just cutting him off and saying the blanket statement that statistics dictate what’s right for me. He would’ve asked follow-up questions. “May I see the study? Who commissioned it? How many subjects were there?” etc., etc.
I love my dad for many reasons, but in that moment, one of the biggest was because instead of saying, “Stand down a little sweetheart. Do you really need to challenge a social worker when you can just go along with what she’s saying?” – he said, “I can’t believe you didn’t take her to task even more so! Go get her studies!”
Do we have to be quite that crazy and argumentative? No. We really don’t. It probably would’ve made my life easier to not ask any questions and tell the social worker what she obviously wanted to hear…
But I’m a patient! Yes, this surgery will obviously be both most beneficial and most stressful to the recipient. But I matter. I’ll be going through something too. Instead of treating me like a number and a checklist, should you take one second as a freaking social worker to think about what I need or what’s best for me? Is that, or is that not, kind of your job?
After my talk with my dad, I am in such agreement with him and his awesome argumentative nature. I start googling. And this is where we’ll pick up on Sunday.
After the race, I got my canvas bag out of the trunk of the car and brought it over to the showers.
I’ve learned that it might be best to have a canvas bag inside your canvas bag! (Or maybe put some stuff in a paper bag if you can…) No matter how much I kept trying to keep my canvas bag clean, somehow mud just kept getting on the outside.
I got as little mud on it as possible, but I definitely brought my favorite canvas bag and that was not a smart idea!
I also only brought one towel! One? Try a million. (Okay, you don’t really need a million.) But the one I brought, I left in the car! My plan was to leave it on the seat in case I was wet or muddy. But if I only had one towel and that was on the seat, what exactly did I think I was going to wipe off with as I changed clothes? There was mud *everywhere*
So, my advice is to bring at least two towels – at least. And make ’em ones you don’t care about.
So, first, I walked over to the open showers where you go with your clothes on to try to get as much mud out as you could. Everyone seemed to have a different strategy. Some people got down to their underwear. Some didn’t. Some tried hard to wash out everything as much as they could – using shampoo, washing their hair, really trying to leave clean.
I basically tried to be somewhat generally clean, getting all falling mud off me and such. I washed off my blindfold, vest, and outer shirt (and took all that off.) Then I pretty much tried to get the mud out of the rest of the clothes I was wearing – undershirt, pants, all that. But there was no truly getting that mud out in my low-flow shower… maybe if I stayed there all day, but no likely scenario of getting actually clean.
So, I went over to the women’s changing room. I left my shirt and vest outside the tent, ’cause I dunno… I didn’t want to keep carrying my semi-clean things, I guess. I just wanted to change clothes and grab those on the way out.
This was an awful idea for multiple reasons – which we’ll get into next time.
I’m going to be ridiculous as I start this blog post, because last time, I talked about how I don’t mind going it alone when need be. However, I’m going to start this one by talking about how awesome it was to be on a team.
I absolutely loved working with Joanna and Nick during this race. It was wonderful to do things together. Even though they were mainly guiding me, I felt like I was part of the team. While holding hands, if I felt Joanna start to slip, I’d try to grip tighter, pull up, and ask if she was okay. We were in it together. And there was something magical and cool about that. I love teamwork.
(I know, I know. I love teamwork. I love working alone. Make up your mind already, right Aurora? I guess apparently what I’m saying is everything is awesome (in its own way).)
Getting back to the race, we made it through the course.
Toward the end, there was a tunnel. I have no fear of tight spaces – none at all. (I lived in New York after all. ;)) Yet, the tunnel helped me to see how I rely so much on my sight. It only became slightly creepy once I couldn’t see anything in front of me. The one thing I could see is that I was inside something – not totally outdoors anymore.
Outside, the sun was bright. So while I couldn’t actually see anything, I could feel the sun – feel that it was bright even through my blindfold. But once in the tunnel, it just blackness. How long was the tunnel? What was on the other side? I alone at this point since my guides couldn’t go next to me in the tunnel.
(One had gone through and one was coming behind me – so they weren’t far, but no one was holding my hand anymore… And it was a weird experience.)
It was also funny to me that once I got out of the tunnel, I had no idea that I was at the finish! The picture I put in here is me asking if there’s another tunnel to go through. Little did I know, there were only celebration bubbles in front of me! The finish was right there… And I had no clue.
What an interesting, wonderful, eye-opening experience it was to have my eyes closed. I loved this. I would happily do this every year… and I just might.
That basically concludes the story, but I will talk about cleaning up in the next chapter – for anyone curious as to what to do after a mud run.
So, in the big kidney talk, the various medical professionals had touched on visiting hours and when people would be able to see you.
I remember visitors being such a thing at Mass General, and me not wanting my parents there because they were way too worried. Ultimately, my parents respected that decision.
But in the interim, the social worker there had (as I mentioned before) been SO understanding. “Whatever you want, we can do. We can reduce your visiting hours, make your room visitor free, whatever you need.”
I almost asked in the big morning kidney talk with the doctors and nurses – if something like that were to become necessary, was it offered here at OSU. But I didn’t. I didn’t want to be a pain in the butt, or make a big stink about it. I knew that the people in Ohio would all respect my wishes.
I also thought that since this surgery is elective – I’m choosing/scheduling it on my terms, instead of having it disrupt my life – and since I’m not sick, just helping someone else… maybe I’ll have a different attitude this time!
Maybe, just maybe, I’ll try out having visitors. I like the people who’d come visit me. So why not? It could be fun!
So, I didn’t make a huge stink about it. But the more I’m getting backed into a corner in this social worker interview, the more I don’t want to have anyone visit me ever! And it was disappointing, because I thought this surgery might be an opportunity for me to try something new by having visitors. Maybe I would love that.
But if you’re going to force them on me, and act like someone always has to be in my room – I’m a stubborn girl and I’m gonna want to be alone now, if for no other reason, just to show you I can be happy in a way you’re acting as though I can’t be.
I know it’s not very Cory Booker-like of me to want to go against someone (to potentially my own detriment if I’m missing out on a cool experience) simply because that person is being really mean to me.
But what can I say? I’m not Cory Booker. I want to be able to be a patient and recover in the ways that are right for me! I just want to be respected. I’m totally on board with needing someone to drive me there and home. But making sure I have visitors everyday? Can you slow your roll, please?
Also, when I asked why someone needed to be there for the actual surgery itself – she actually told me that having a visitor during surgery is just as important as any of their other requirements… that if someone doesn’t show up during your surgery, the hospital treats that just as seriously as if you showed up with drugs in your system. They would not perform the surgery if you did not have someone present.
Are you kidding me?! You’re literally not going to perform surgery if I don’t have a visitor show up to be present for the part where they can’t even see me, or help me, or do any good whatsoever?! You’re telling me it’s as serious as drugs in my system, but you still never say why?!
What’s funny is that I’m angry about this and everything, but this is nothing in comparison to my interview with the psychologist. So, get ready for that soon enough.
This was the first mud run/obstacle course for all 3 of us – Joanna, Nick, and myself.
I don’t think there was any way better than this to do my first one. Obstacles can be intimidating. Getting so incredibly dirty and muddy can be intimidating. But for me, I just took it one step at a time. I didn’t have to worry about an obstacle I could see in the distance. I didn’t get a little grossed out jumping into super muddy water. I just went with the flow. Muddy water felt like normal water to me.
Joannna talked to me about doing this crazy new experience without getting any other friends to run it – and how I’m already signed up for a Spartan race, again with no one else yet signed up.
She thought that was daring, or brave, or something.
I’ve never thought too much about it.
I do, sometimes, try to get people involved in the activities I do. And actually, this year, I’ve met a few more people who seem to be more open to the idea of being involved in these various adventures with me.
But 99% of the time, I don’t decide to forget about things if I can’t find someone to go with. Ultimately, what do I care if I can’t get someone else to go? What do other people have to do with the things I want to do?
I don’t mean to sound for a second like I don’t appreciate time with my friends. Of course I do! Of course I love it, and work for it, and am grateful for it. I’m only trying to say that generally other people’s availability does not dictate my life.
This actually came up in conversation with a friend the other day. He said that this year, his goal was to become okay with going to the movies alone. He asked me if I ever went to the movies alone. And it was just interesting to me that that’s a thing some people don’t like to do. I don’t generally go to movies, but if you took all the time I did, I’d say on the majority of them, I do go alone. And I don’t think twice about it.
Anyway, I’m just kind of repeating the same information over again since I can’t seem to get my thoughts straight. But is this something any of you deal with? How do you feel about doing things alone? Is it bothersome? Not bothersome? I can absolutely appreciate the idea of building stronger friendships, but I also don’t believe in waiting around for life. What do you think?
The most nerve-wracking obstacle to do blind was the water slide. I was warned we’d be fully submerged at the bottom. I don’t know how to swim! And I wasn’t going to be able to see? Well, let’s hope I don’t die.
Nick went down first to be able to help me out of the water. Joanna was behind me and really seemed pretty darn nervous. Part of that made me nervous, but part was actually helpful, because having someone by me who was nervous almost made me want to keep it more together.
I saw later in pictures that people were sliding down holding their noses. That might’ve been smart…
But I didn’t think about it. I just went down and got muddy water all up in my nose. As soon as I hit the water, I started moving my legs and arms, trying to get back above water. Almost instantly, Nick and one of the people manning the slide were helping me out. (I’m pretty sure they thought they were just helping me ’cause I was blind for the day – not ’cause I totally can’t swim…)
Either way, I made it outta there. It was very interesting to me how just being submerged in water for a moment could make me so disoriented. People were telling me to go to the left, and sort of leading me that way. But it sounded like I was just going straight toward people coming down slides (I’d think right into me). However, I trusted the sighted people, since you know, they could see. And I didn’t get hit by anyone, so they certainly did not lead my astray.
It was just interesting to me that I really could not tell where I was when I was in the water…
At some point after we were safely back on the course, Joanna commented on how beautiful the lake is. I could picture a beautiful lake because I have seen lakes. I could picture the costumes Joanna and Nick were explaining to me. Heck – I could picture the obstacles when they were described to me. Because I have seen. These are things in my brain that I can call upon.
But what do you think it’s like to be born blind? How do you get a sense of what a lake looks like?
I’m sure there are ways. I’m sure people can draw things in your hand and you feel them, and that’s helpful. You could go get in a lake, and feel it. That would also probably be at least somewhat helpful. but it was interesting to me to think about – if I had never seen a lake – if I had never seen anything at all, so I had absolutely no frame of reference whatsoever – how would I picture a lake in my head? Would I even picture it as a picture? Or would I just have memories of feelings with no visual?
I didn’t do any research to answer those questions, but they were ideas that interested me while out on the course.
So, I got my guides, got my blindfold, and we went to the start line.
It was odd to me that I really didn’t have a great sense while wearing the blindfold of which way the start line was. I wasn’t completely sure whether we were in the corral or not. The beginning was more confusing than I thought it was going to be.
Soon enough, we were off to the races!
I’ve talked before about running making me feel free – about how sometimes when I run it almost feels like I’m flying. I just love taking those strides…
But I did not really know what this free flying felt like, until I felt it blindfolded. I really felt the wind as I ran through the air. I’d thought I’d felt wind before, but I felt it so much more intensely while being blindfolded. I felt every step too.
I didn’t have a chance to overthink, to get distracted by things – to look in the mirror at my strides at the gym, or to be on the lookout for a mile marker or other things during a race – I was really focusing on one step at a time. And it felt so truly freeing.
Isn’t that weird? You have to concentrate more than usual, and I’d think that might be inhibiting. But to me, for some reason, it felt very freeing.
Getting back to my guides – Nick is a highway patrol officer, and he’s former military. So, he knew how to quickly and calmly describe every obstacle. He’d say things like “we’re gonna run about 350 yards. Then there’s a slatted wall about 10 feet high..” He’d explain, in as great detail as one could with words, what I’d have to do at each obstacle. It was very helpful.
I’ll admit I only had a very light grasp on what 350 yards meant, but thankfully from so much half marathon running, I did have some idea because I know about how far that last tenth is. (It’s 176 yards.)
Tackling the obstacles was funny. I was definitely more cautious than I needed to be…. Afterward, I got to see some photos after the race where I’m carefully putting my hands out, feeling what’s in front of me, “climbing” over short little wooden obstacles – that people who can see are just walking over.
…killing time waiting for doctors and such. (I don’t have tons of photos, but I do have tons of posts – so basically, it may just be me making silly faces in medical rooms from here on out…
When I say I don’t love having visitors, it becomes this whole thing like something’s wrong with me. I tried to explain (as I have in my blog), that the time when you’re actually in the hospital isn’t when you need visitors. You have the whole bustling hospital around you. You’re tired. You look tired. You already have a team of people waiting on you. I’d rather have people once I leave.
But oh no. She thought that was the weirdest freaking thing ever. She was telling me how they expect a lot of visitors to be in there. I think because I was pushing back a little, she overdid it and made me feel like I needed a freaking parade in my room everyday.
(I understand if maybe I get pushed, and I push back, that she feels the need to push even harder. But a social worker should be a bit more calm than this, right?)
Then, the new social worker pipes in. “You called your dad earlier today. Are you close with him? Do you want him there?”
Wait, excuse me. What? How do you know I called my dad?
Earlier, before Big Kidney Say started, when we were all milling about waiting for the doctors to come in, I called my dad just to let him know I’d made it there okay (since I’m horrible with directions (and pretty much with driving in general)).
I stepped to the corner of the room away from everyone else and made a short, quiet phone call. But this woman said she’d been in there watching us! What?!
Some woman was in there being a sidler (you know, like from Seinfeld) to us? She also asked me about things I’d asked in the meeting. For instance, I’d asked about when I could return to running. So she brought that up. “Is running important to you?” Yes. Yes, it is.
It’s fine, I guess. Maybe I should’ve been more observant/thoughtful to who was in the room. Thinking about it later, I had seen her in the listening portion, but assumed she was another person giving a kidney whom I just hadn’t met before the meeting started.
Also, nothing I said or asked was secret. But I just thought it was a little weird that she was paying so much attention me even when I was in the corner of a mini-bustling-ish room, before any nurses or doctors entered – before anything was even beginning to start at all… that this woman was paying enough attention to me to be able to hear me say, “Hi Daddy” in the phone. I know I’m loud, but I’m not that loud!
So, that threw me a bit. Why are you in there kind of spying on us? To me it felt a little icky, but maybe I only felt that way because I was oh so unbelievably annoyed in my conversation with the social workers.
Getting back to the whole visitor thing… Well, let’s pick up there on Sunday.
Oh my goodness, did we finally do it? We, finally in part 5 of this story, got to the race? Yee haw!
I went over to the Blindstart tent, got my t-shirt and my bib. They took a million pictures, which obviously I am always down for.
As we waited around, I started wondering when and who to ask about the blindfold. That’s when I overheard one of the coordinators looking for someone to guide an actually blind runner.
Oh no, if they’re having trouble finding guides for people who actually need them, that doesn’t make things look too promising for me. Of course I paid the money, got up early, and came all the way out here for the specific reason of trying this new experience. So, if I just go out there and run in the mud like it’s any other race, I may end up a bit cranky.
Thankfully, even though for a moment it seemed like there might be a problem finding guides, that fear disappeared almost the moment it began. There was a huge group of people running for Blindstart who were part of a smaller, more specific group (supporting a specific person). Now, why I say it was smaller than our whole Blindstart team, I mean barely smaller. The vast majority of the Blindstart team was made up of this (barely) smaller team.
That whole team was taking a group picture – leaving us with only a handful of other people around. That’s why it seemed we might be short. Once the group photo was over, there were more than enough people around who wanted to be guides.
I was paired with wife and husband team Joanna and Nick. They were so sweet, kind and all-around awesome.
Nick and I got bright orange vests with signs on the back of runner and guide.
As I was walking around with my blindfold, preparing to simulate being blind for a while, another runner came over and told me that she thought I was brave to be trying the blindfolded running. She said that last year it seemed like at least half the blindfolded runners gave up on the idea and ripped off their blindfolds midway through the race.
It never even dawned on me to think about doing that. I’m in it to finish this thing! Plus, it’s only 3 miles. Who can’t survive that?
(Usually when I end posts with sentences like that, it’s some sort of foreshadowing… Spoiler alert: Worry not. I never took the blindfold off while on the course.
(Though I will admit what I though would be a measly 5k (ish (slightly longer)) was tougher than I expected..)
While getting ready in the morning, I was a bit stressed about riding around after the race in my friend’s car (since I didn’t want to get it all muddy and such). So, I tried to make sure I had towels and bags and things.
I was pretty woefully underprepared. I looked for plastic grocery bags, but all I could find were reusable ones with a few paper bags for recycling or what have you. (Curse our sustainable household!)
However, we did indeed have plastic trash bags that did not cross my mind until it was too late. (Kudos to those of you who were already yelling that at your computer screen.)
I grabbed one (one?!) towel with the intention of sitting on it, on the way home (if I were still too dirty for the car). I did wrangle two plastic bags from the Apple Store (yay for hard drive purchases – always a thing of wonderful safety, apparently even down to the bags they come in.
I got a second pair of shoes. (That I knew for sure would be necessary.) I even brought a second hat. (And of course I brought a change of clothes.)
Somehow I forgot sunscreen! How did I, of all people, forget sunscreen? I’m constantly telling everyone in my life they need to wear more sunscreen – and I don’t even bring it on a run? Aye, aye, aye. Where’s my head? …Probably in a very painful sun-induced screaming/crying fit in a little while due to the painful Los Angeles rays.
(I actually was totally fine, but that doesn’t mean it’s smart to not wear sunscreen. It just means I was at least semi-protected with a bunch of other layers of other things, and I was lucky that day.)
I did remember water (very smart) and bars of food (yummy). Then I went on my merry way to the race.
(When we get to the post-race shower and clean up and all of that, we can talk about what I wish I’d brought. Thank goodness for this awesome learning experience – especially since I have a crazy 12-mile obstacle course run coming up in September!)
My parents have told me that ever since I was a little girl, I was basically insufferable because I never, ever, ever took anything at face value. Ever.
It was never, “drink your water.” “Okay!”
It was – “But why do I have to drink water?” “But why is it important to be hydrated?” And on and on.
Apparently, even though this was sometimes frustrating for my parents, I guess it was sometimes fun because we did a bunch of little research activities when I was a young girl so they could explain to me why things worked the way they did.
(And I appreciate that they encouraged me to think that way – to want to understand the world around me… Even now I still like understanding logic behind things and how various things in the world work.)
Now, if you don’t mind me saying so, I’ve also been known as a genius (blegh, that doesn’t sound right to say) my whole life. (I’m in Mensa, for real.) You don’t have to be really smart to be curious about the world around you. But adults always thought that me being smart played into me being curious. I just wanted to learn more. No harm, no foul… sort of.
Many people in life want you to take things at face value without asking for explanations. (This, um, let’s say curiosity of mine sometimes makes authority figures love me, because I take a keen interest in what they’re teaching. Sometimes it makes them hate me, because I’m too curious (or challenging or something like that).)
And maybe I should just let things be how they are… but should I? If things really make sense, there are explanations behind them. Are there not?
I don’t want to make anyone’s life hard or miserable. But it’s usually not that hard to explain something – especially when that something is pretty simple. If all I wanted to know was “Does it have to be my power of attorney? Will the person in the waiting room be someone making medical decisions for me in a worst case scenario?” – that should not be an impossible question to answer!
Who knows. Maybe I didn’t phrase it correctly. Maybe the social workers somehow felt as attacked by me as I was by them. But whatever happened, it basically became a verbal fight!
All I wanted to know was why. But instead I got huff, huff, puff, puff. “It’s major surgery. Obviously someone has to be there. ‘Why’ is a ridiculous question. It doesn’t even make sense that you’re asking it.”
If I responded to one of your questions with that kind of non-answer (and judgement), Ms. veteran social worker, would you just be okay with that?
Then we open up basically a whole can of worms when I say I don’t really love visitors in the hospital. They do not like that.
Just for the record, when I say “they” basically anytime in this social worker portion of the story, I really mean “her.” The new girl was nice. The veteran was the one who wasn’t happy (or patient) at all with me.
I’d mentioned that some people were practicing while in line what they wanted to say to her. So some people have asked what I wanted to say her.
If I was going to say anything, I would say, “thank you so much for sacrificing your whole life for all of us. And thank you for being a strong woman who fights so that I – and all the other women I know – can have opportunities that you didn’t. I’m sorry for how often you’ve been treated poorly, and I appreciate your sacrifices for us.”
And I’m sure that would’ve been great to tell her.
What I actually told her was nothing. I didn’t say anything at all. I’m not totally sure why. I think there was part of me that thought she must have been tired of being fawned over all day long. Although really, that’s such a silly thing to think, right? Who would possibly get tired of people loving them all day long? So, that was silly.
And really, I think that was the main reason – that, and that none of us could figure out what to call her. Nothing seemed right. Everything seemed too formal or not formal enough. And all any of us really wanted to call her was Madam President.
I will also say there was some fear on my part. I was so distracted about trying not to turn the camera in my pocket off, and trying not to get tackled by Secret Service Agents for having my phone stealthy taping that my mind was all wrapped up in that – instead of in the moment. Admittedly, that’s kind of lame of me – to care so much about a picture that I let the actual cool moment slip away. I mean, I experienced it, but obviously my head was sort of all over the place a bit.
That all sort of leads into the next questions I get sometimes – was spending a total of a little over 8 hours of my day at the grove to meet her for a handful of seconds worth it? And do I wish I would’ve really said something to her (other than thanking her for complimenting my jacket)?
I don’t regret not saying anything to her. She knows I love her. I waited that long in line. There’s no question that I think she’s a total rockstar. And she heard so many compliments throughout the day, I’m sure she’s fine. Not to mention she’s one of the strongest people I’ve ever seen. So, while I’m sure she still needs validation, as we all do sometimes, I bet she gets by with less than the rest of us.
As far as whether the 8 hours was worth it, yes. It totally was. For one thing, I absolutely love events where people all wait for something they really care about. You get to meet cool people and it builds an interesting sense of camaraderie. For another, she’s Hillary Clinton! Even a handful of seconds with her are worth a day. What was I really going to do with those 8 hours anyway? Nothing more important than meeting her.
Plus, since she complimented that jacket, I already know what to wear when I interview to be on her staff at some point later in my life. 😉
We’ve been talking about her a lot lately on the blog, and as I told the story (and as I was there) various people have talked to me about her, why I like her, and what she’s done.
And I learned more about her as we’ve all been talking.
Somehow, she is even more amazing than I thought she was in the first place.
For one thing, did you know she never changed her name from Hillary Rodham? I think that’s so awesome. She’s proud of her name and who she is, and she never changed it.
It was only because of Arkansas voters decades ago who couldn’t deal with the first lady of the state keeping her last name that she had to campaign as Mrs. Bill Clinton.
I’m sad for the concessions she’s had to make for Americans who aren’t always ready for her awesomeness. But I’m happy she’s never shied away from who she is. She’s never become a little wallflower to please America.
It’s cool when women do that now, but remember how old she is. Women are already in an uphill battle for equality in this country – right now – in 2014. But she grew up decades ago, when it was, I’m sure, probably even harder to stand up and say “Yo! I’m equal. I deserve equal treatment. And I’ll accept nothing less.”
Did you also know she wrote to NASA when she was about 13, asking how to become an astronaut… NASA wrote back saying they’re not interested in female astronauts! This is the world Hillary grew up in – the one we’re in now with the injustice amplified by so, so much!
And she’s never wavered. She’s never asked, “What if people are right and I’m not as good or as capable as the boys?” (I guess I can’t really claim she’s never asked that, because who knows what she thinks in her head, or what doubts she gets at 3 in the morning while lying in bed…)
But I do know that she has consistently fought hard, been competitive, been goal-oriented, and she’s achieved many of the things she set out to do.
I think she’s a fabulous role model, and I hope against all hope that she is indeed the next President of the United States. I can think of no one better – and certainly no better first woman to go down in the history books than Hillary Rodham.
(oh and p.s. If you want to find out more cool stuff about Hillary Clinton – this article is a fun place to start.)
This was the best picture I snuck from my little pocket camera.
Picking up from last time –
The guy doesn’t even have to say “phones in pockets” to me – or really anyone around me. We’d all heard it enough by this point. We knew before we got to him to put our phone in our pockets.
I can’t even begin to imagine how awkwardly I was walking, trying to make sure the little camera of my phone was sticking out of my pants, but that my jacket didn’t accidentally cover it – and that my thighs didn’t hit the button to stop recording. So much to think about! I was walking so stiffly… yet no one called me out. So, I must’ve been walking normally enough!
So, I walked over. She looked me in the eye, shook my hand, aaaand she even complimented me! She said she loved my red leather jacket! (That’s why the whole “I left my clothes – I have to get my clothes” thing mattered.)
(Also, I’ve wondered on this blog before if in brief interactions I have with new girls, if it’s okay to compliment their clothes since that’s the least important thing about them – but Hillary Clinton did it! So, that’s one in the column for “sure it’s okay.”)
And in a moment, it was all over.
It was hilarious to me that all we’d done was briefly met this human being – granted, an incredible strong, exceptional, fabulous, amazing and wonderful human being – but a human nonetheless. So, we’d met this human for about 10 seconds, and yet we were all shaking with our giddiness as we walked out of the store.
She’s Hillary Clinton. What else is there to say, really?
slightly jelly of this photo of her and Kris. 😛
People have asked me if anything about my teeny tiny interaction with her would lead me to believe she could indeed run again. Of course, what do I really know after 10 seconds? But I will say she seemed energetic, engaging, strong… I don’t see any reason why she wouldn’t be fit to run.
I know it’s been mentioned in this series before, but she is Hillary Clinton! Of course she can run. She can do anything!
Final little side note: As I looked through the video to see if I caught anything at all, I am so wildly happy that I can hear her talking to me. But, I must admit, I’m slightly jelly of the person in front of me, because I caught a shot of him shaking her hand!
You can hear her call him by name, and you can see their hands touch. How can I not be at least slightly jealous of that? I’m so very pleased that I was able to get that for someone else. That makes me feel so good. ‘Cause he was *so* excited. So, overall, I definitely have way more positive feelings outweighing my slight jealousy.
At least I know a good plan for trying to get pictures should I ever go to another Hillary Clinton event like this! 🙂
I don’t remember the exact trajectory of the conversation, but somewhere along the way, I felt that they were starting to give me some real push-back.
I’m trying to be a consistently better and more patient person. But I think it’s still my nature that if I’m pushed, I will push back!
They asked me who would be present for the surgery. I innocently asked an easy simple question. (And I think I’m allowed, am I not? I mean, they asked me why I didn’t want to stay with worrisome parents when I have a patient, amazing, medically trained friend… So, if they get questions, I do too!)
So, I ask, oh so innocently, “Why does someone have to be there?”
This is a legitimate question, y’all! The way it works at this hospital is that you go in the day before to get settled, have last minute tests, whatever. Day 2 is the day you have your surgery. (Then you plan to leave on day 4.)
Of course someone needs to drop me off. And someone needs to pick me up. I can get behind those. I can understand that. But honestly tell me, why, on a weekday (in the morning, no less) someone has to drive in for no reason to sit in the waiting room for no reason? Why?!
(Fyi, sure. I’m bitter and really upset now. But at the time, I’m pretty sure I was much more calm… Anyway, getting back to my bitter non-understanding…)
Logically, I don’t understand why someone needs to be there. I don’t know any surgeons ready to rush in and help should something go wrong. I get it, I guess, that people sometimes go to surgeries. Just seems like a waste of time of the people I love.
I had a slightly different angle of my arm, couldn’t really decide which one I wanted to put in. So, boom. Slapping both pictures in here.
Even if they’re worried about me, maybe they should be doing something productive to pass the time until the surgery’s over and they could actually see me?
But, in all seriousness, if my power of attorney needs to be there – or someone who can make the medical decisions should something go wrong, okay. I could perhaps understand that (even though we do have phones).
But I genuinely ask, because it’s important to know which person needs to be in the waiting room, the innocent question of “why?”
Then, I get back a very defensive “What do you mean why?!” At that point, I try to explain what I just explained to you. But all I get is, “You’re having major surgery. That’s why.”
Um, does that answer my question of if it needs to be my power of attorney? No. I don’t believe it does.
We’ll pick up with more of this incredibly unhelpful conversation Sunday.
It’s all becoming real. My heart starts beating faster and I’m shaking a little. We start laughing about the idea of “why are we nervous? It’s just a book signing. We’re just meeting her – and for only 10 seconds or so at that. Everything is fine. What is there to be nervous about?”
I joked, “Well, I suppose I’m a little nervous I’m gonna vomit on her (from said nervousness) when I get up there.” This was hilariously met with, “You should be so lucky! If you want that picture so badly, I’m sure vomiting on her will get you on all the new stations and you can grab still to your heart’s content.”
We had a big laugh about that. The nervous energy was pretty much dampened – though I did hear people around me practicing what they wanted to say to this amazing powerful woman we all love so much.
As we start to get closer, the one thing I do worry a bit about is trying to stealthily take video from my pocket. All the burly secret service guy (who whoever he was) was telling us was to put our phones in our pocket – he didn’t say turn ’em off, just get ’em out of our hands.
Since (as far as I could tell) I didn’t have any other possibilities for a picture, I had to try something!
Would my thigh hit the button to stop the recording? Would it even pick up anything? How do I angle my body and keep the recording going? Aye, aye, aye, aye, aye.
I practiced a bit as we wove through some more bookshelves. Suddenly, it was time.
We’d woven to this area leading right up to the table. In the final tiny line, a woman checked to make sure our book jackets were all marking the correct page for her to sign.
There was still a little time after you saw her if you wanted to try and be a rebel to make your book look different from everyone else’s. But with oh so many security people around, why have people eyeing you just to pick a slightly different page of your book? But maybe it was worth the risk to some people… I wonder if anyone tried to sneak by getting her copy signed on a different page…
There also was a person somewhere in the line handing us post-its so we could write our name – making sure we got the same book back in the end.
Finally, we made it up to the final man before the table – the one who told us “phones in pocket – put your phone in your pocket.”
We finally get in to the actual Barnes & Noble! We did it. We’re in the store in the line to meet her. This is really happening.
First, we go up to the second floor. We pass that little makeshift bag check Barnes & Noble had after all. It confused everyone after the whole “no bags, no bags whatsoever. We will turn you away if you bring a bag in here, bubby,” but we just walked on.
Someone in front of me actually mentioned the idea of having a photographer to one of the people working bag check. But the Barnes & Noble employee said this book signing was so much bigger than most that they’re already stretched thin, and logistically, it would’ve been too hard to add the element.
Though, I’d just like to posit that unless there’s something I’m completely missing, it wouldn’t have caused any extra headache. The photographer would’ve just been there at the end of the long table, out of everyone’s way. Maybe she’d have someone handing out cards with the website to people as they walked out so they knew where to go to get their pictures. And that’s it!
No money or pictures or anything changes hands at the event. If marathons and sporting events and basically everybody else can make this work, I’d think Hillary Clinton’s people can too.
(She should hire me, right? I’m coming up with money-making ideas that would also put her in picture frames and phones everywhere, with people looking at her and remembering her with a smile daily – so much positive reinforcement…)
Anyway, no sense harping on something that didn’t exist (even if it should have…)
After we pass bag check, we get wanded by a security squad. Once we’re cleared, we get to go up to the 3rd floor.
On the 3rd floor, we snake through rows of books. We start peering over shelves. Can you see her? Can you see her? Can you see her?
We can see her. I have to stand as high on my toes as I can, but I can see her!
So, my first meeting was with the social workers. There were two of them. One was new and being trained.
The vibe in the room didn’t necessarily seem right from the moment they walked in. I kept trying to cut the tension. (It was so thick you needed more than a knife – you needed a at least a chainsaw!)
I’d quip things like “hmmm, you sure are writing down a lot.” I was trying to be funny! I said things with a smile and maybe even a little lilt.
But everything was so freaking serious! The more established social worker would say something back like “Does that bother you? Why don’t you want us taking notes about you.” It was like “Geez. Can nothing be fun in this room?”
As I said before, it was SO not my previous hospital experience. All I’d ever known from a hospital was a place where we could laugh and dance to Thriller. Not here!
Now, the social workers were explaining how incredibly important it was to have a support system and people to look after you. I was a little like “yeah, sure.” But I went along with what they wanted.
They asked who’d be taking care of me. I said my amazing friend Emily volunteered to let me stay with her. She’s one of the most caring people I know. She’s a certified EMT. She’s one of my closest friends. Why not stay with her?
Another angle. It may have been a rough day, but at least I got to feel like a tiny adorable girl in a giant’s house! (These chairs were bigger than some New York apartments I’ve seen. 😉
But the social workers gave me grief about that. “Don’t your parents live here?” Yes, they do. “Why don’t you want to stay with them?”
Can we just stop for a second to ponder why this was even a real question. I’m not 17 years old. If I come back to the town where I went to high school and stay with a friend instead of my parents, is this really so much cause for alarm?
But whatever. People are certainly allowed to ask whatever questions they want. So, I explain that sometimes parents care so much about you that it’s actually a little stressful. My parents were so worried about my health with heart stuff that I didn’t want them around all the time.
They were more worried about me than I was. It invites too much worry about placating somebody else when you need to focus on yourself.
Plus, I adore Emily! And she’s a medical professional! It would only make sense to be in her care if she is oh so sweetly offering.
The social worker didn’t love this. Somewhere in the conversation, some real push-back started happening. And this is where we’ll pick up on Wednesday.
I adore Hillary. So, I feel weird complaining about anything, even in jest. But she’s the strongest person on the planet. She can take it without issue. (Also, she has no idea who I am or what I’m saying. So, there’s that too.)
As we waited and were talking about how incredible it’d be if she had a photographer, we also talked about how even though Hillary’s twitter is pretty great, she didn’t even tweet to let us know when she’d be in our city!
If I follow you on twitter, and you come to Los Angeles, I need you to tell me! As I was on my little mini-rant in line and emphatically said something like I just said – only adding girlfriend at the end – one of my new friends looked at me and said, “Please walk in there and say that to her. Walk up to the table, say, ‘you gotta tweet me when you’re in my city, girlfriend!’ Then add a snap for emphasis at the end.”
Of course I did not actually do that. But we laughed about how crazy that would be.
I couldn’t believe the time finally came to turn the corner and walk down the street to the front of Barnes & Noble!
It felt so amazing waiting there at the door of the actual store. We were really here. It was getting real. She was inside, and we would be soon enough.
Every person who came out was absolutely glowing. Some stopped to tell us that Hillary engages with each person. We heard you have time to say a sentence or so, then she’d probably say something to you, look you in the eye, and shake your hand.
After hearing that, people in line started getting pretty darn nervous. “Hillary is going to listen to me say a sentence? What in the world am I going to say? What’s a good sentence for Hillary?”
I thought Id’ say, “Thank you so much for sacrificing your life to help all of us.” I got so nervous, I don’t think I said anything much except thank you… But I’m sure she knows we all appreciate her – judging by both how long we all waited in line, and how many, many people kept circling through telling her how incredible she is.
As we were waiting outside, there were two people who showed up with an anti-Hillary poster. 2 people. 1 poster. That was the entirety of anything I saw causing a ruckus. They were yelling something like “go away,” but none of us even really registered it. We’re too busy hearing harps and angels singing as we’re about to walk into that store!
Basically, that teeny tiny little protest type thing didn’t make any sense. Why are you two here? We obviously love her. She and her team can’t even hear you. You’re outnumbered a thousand to one. What is the point of you being there?
The line moves. We get closer and closer to turning the corner.
We talk a little about what we’re expecting, what we’re going to say to her, and all that jazz. I’m pretty stuck on the idea that the only thing I want is a picture. There has to be a way to get a picture. Doesn’t there?
We’d already heard that you are allowed to bring cameras in. You can take pictures from a certain spot in line, but you must put your camera away before you go up to the table to meet her.
We start pondering, “Well, if we stagger a little, could we try to turn around as we’re walking out a grab a picture?”
Can I just tell you my brilliant (if I do say so myself) idea? I think there should’ve been a photographer at the edge of the table – getting that special side shot of Hillary shaking your hand, where you’re both visible and you can see your hands touching!
That would’ve been a priceless possession for every person in the line. I think close to everyone would’ve bought one – and we would’ve paid a premium price. You could’ve charged $40 (maybe even more!) for a photo. Let’s guess that 800 people went through (though it really could’ve been fewer or more – what do I know?), but if we were to estimate 800 people buying photos – that’s $32,000!
I think they missed out on some money there.
And it’s not like she didn’t want to be photographed. They had news crews there getting the raw footage of everyone walking through. They allowed us to take pictures until we were almost at the table. (I think the main reason they cut it off at the table was so as not to slow down the line with selfies and such.)
So, where’s your official event photographer, Madame Secretary?
In line, we were talking about how Cory Booker had an official photographer to catch moments of everyone meeting him. The photos were sort of expensive. And guess what? I bought ’em! He’s Cory Booker. I cherish my photos from that night. One of them is my freaking iPhone background!
No disrespect to Cory Booker or anything, but if I had a freaking photo with Hillary Clinton, that’d be the one you see on my phone. (Sorry, Cory. Still adore you!)
Buuuuut, precious, precious, Hillary – when you don’t give us photos, we keep our Cory Booker ones up. How do you feel about that? When we get warm fuzzies about a great Democratic leader, who’s the one you want us to be thinking about? I’m just saying…
This is where I’ll pick up next time. (Btw, this story is getting quite long. And we have oh so much to talk about that you’re gonna need to wait a bit for me to write about some other things, before we get back to this. :-P)
just another view of another line as we do some waitin’
Picking up from last time –
After breakfast, I stopped by the concierge desk to check my bag. (I had no idea that was even a thing you could do at The Grove, so that was an interesting little tidbit to me.)
We’d been warned we wouldn’t be allowed in Barnes & Noble if we had a bag. This turned out to totally be a lie because Barnes & Noble had their own bag check. It was nice of them to have an option for people who didn’t read it on the website or hear about it in the line announcements.
Of course some people were all, “well, why did I have to check my bag when there’s a bag check right here?” But the Grove bag check was oh so close to Barnes & Noble, so it didn’t hurt us in any way to have to do that. And there was no way Barnes & Noble could’ve checked every person’s bag in that line. So it was smart to have their check for practically emergencies only. I liked that they had a fail safe for people just in case the info didn’t get to every person.
Okay, we’ve been talking about bag checks for far too long, so let’s move on.
I go to get back in line with my letter. As I’m walking across The Grove, backpack-less, thinking about how I was going to meet Hillary Clinton, I felt amazing. There was something wonderful about that moment – being so present. Not being weighed down by anything (literally (without my backpack) or figuratively). I felt almost empowered and definitely excited.
I arrived by Top Shop – I thought we lined up in the same place as we did in the morning. So, I walked over and started asking what letter was in that area. Someone answered, “oh, we’re in line to buy the book.”
What?! It’s 11am. They started selling the book 3 hours ago. There are still people waiting just to get wristbands? How many people are circling through today?
(At some point, Barnes & Noble ran out of blue wristbands, and started giving orange away to people – in case there was still time once all the blue wristbanders had been seen.)
I went and found my letter group immediately, because I saw my new friends there whom I’d waited with that morning. We talked for a while.
I know we’re not supposed to be talking about 2016 yet, but we did talk about the possibility of a Clinton/Warren ticket. I think that’d be spectacular. I was of the mindset that America wasn’t ready, but Greg told me to have more faith.
So we wait and wait and talk and talk. Then the line begins to move!
In addition to the kind and patient surgeons, the nurses also spoke with us.
They made it overly extremely clear – if you ever change you mind, for any reason, at literally any point – even if you’re in the hospital prepped for surgery – it is not to late to back out.
Okay, I get it. I can wuss out at any time. But I’m good. (They really hammered that home (really, really, really hammered it hard). I guess that’s nice of them to try to be so unbelievably sure that people don’t feel pressured in any way…)
One person in our talk was smart enough to record the whole talk on his phone so that once he got home, if he forgot something, he could listen… I took copious notes. So, I feel good that I got everything. But, if your center allows it, recording the big lecture might not be a bad idea so that you can always go back to it.
After the talk, we got to have one-on-one meetings with everyone involved. This is where it all started to go south…
I haven’t had many experiences with social workers in my life. The last (and only) time I can remember dealing with a social worker was at Mass General during all my heart stuff. *Beautiful harp memory/dreamy transition music plays.*
Everyone at Mass General was so wonderful, sweet, special, kind, amazing, fantastic… there are not enough adjectives to describe their awesomeness! Impossible!
At Mass General, the lovely, beautiful, patient social worker (and everyone else involved in my case) was all about helping me. I was the patient. All patients deal with health and surgery differently. And she just wanted to make sure that I was very well taken care of – in the way that was right for me.
Another random pic from Mass General, when I was playing with my hair color and such. 😛
Now, if you’ve read my series of posts about my time in the hospital as a heart patient, you know that I did not want people up my butt all the time! What is fun about that? You’re sick. You’re tired. You’re not looking great. You’re already surrounded by 80 million other people.
As I’ve said on this blog before, being at home can be lonely. But for me, being in the hospital is not lonely. And I don’t love tons of people visiting me there.
(Even if a select few friends – whom I greatly appreciated – knew exactly how to treat me, what days/times were right to come, and exactly how to handle me… It doesn’t mean I want anyone on the actual day of surgery. And it doesn’t mean I want the cavalcade.)
At Mass Gen, they were all about accommodating me. When my family started threatening to come visit, the social worker was all, “Don’t worry! We’re happy to make a no visitors order for you, and people won’t be allowed in your room. Whatever you need.”
When I said I didn’t live with anyone and would be going home to my empty apartment, the social worker and nurses were all, “Hmm. We could get a home nurse to check in on you… You know what, though? You’re young and strong. You’ll be fine.”
They had complete faith I could take care of myself.
And I was! Heck, I went to the studio at school the very night I got out of the hospital to work on a project – that I got an A on, by the way!
So, Mass General was all about me. Wexner Medical Center? Not so much. Let’s talk about that on Sunday.
Barnes and Noble had a smart idea – bringing Starbucks downstairs, hoping to grab some pastry sales out of people…. However, I didn’t see a single person buy anything from Starbucks. We were all far too excited about/focused on the book – the book, the book, the book, the book. Just give me that wristband, Holmes!
We snaked around the makeshift line until finally it was my turn to walk up there. The cashier handed me a book, I happily handed over my debit card. Then it was time! He wrapped that blue band around my wrist.
I had it. I had my ticket in to meet Hillary Clinton! (Hillary Clinton!)
This horrible idea flashed through my head of mobs outside corner people and cutting off wristbands, stealing them, selling them on the black market. (That didn’t happen as far as I know.) But I walked around protecting my wrist from any pirates/vigilantes/whoever may come my way, as though I had the most precious of treasures on it – because of course, I did.
After getting the wristband, we all had about 2 hours to kill at The Grove. This was such a weird little time-stands-still type of thing. We’d amped up all morning to get our wristbands. Finally, sweet success! And then we sit and do nothing before it’s time to join the next line.
Of course, it was nice of them to make it so we didn’t have to wait in line the whole time. Here’s the way they did it – each wristband had a letter on it. (Mine was i.) As long as you came back before the book signing started at 11:30, you got to line up with your letter. So, they gave us freedom so everyone could eat, use the bathroom, check bags – whatever they needed to do.
Eating at the Farmer’s Market felt like old times because I used to work very close by, and loved getting omelettes there – which is exactly what I did while I waited.
Basically every person I saw was wearing a blue wristband, which I found a little funny and cute. We were all these separate people who were sort of united by this one event – giving a little smile or a nod – Oh yeah. We’re gonna meet Hillary Rodham Clinton today. Cool huh? *tips hat* Have a great meeting, stranger.
I heard from someone behind a counter that business really picked up that morning. That doesn’t surprise me since I’m sure everyone was hungry and no one knew what to do for two hours.
We probably should’ve gone for some super jog as a huge pack. But, I think people were tired. And hungry. So instead we all sat and ate. (Wah wah.)
Soon enough, it was time to start heading back to the line to meet her!
I run up to the front and start counting people in line as quickly as I can. Once I get back to our spot, we’re up to about 240 (give or take a few). Greg was really close as he’d guessed we’d be about 250 back. (My guess is he was right because I bet some people came out of the bathroom, or the woodwork, or wherever in the 10 minutes or so between me counting and the store opening.
I felt bad because some people in line were really giving the line monitors a tough time. Once the line was already moving, someone asked something having to do with time or when we got to buy our book or something. One of the guys in suits (I have no idea who they were – just some line monitor dudes) said, “the store opened at 8.” The random person in line yelled back (in a mean tone, mind you), “no, it didn’t!”
Aw, come on now.
True, it didn’t open right at 8 on the dot. But by something like 8:10 we were already moving – even as the person said it, we were moving! So, it was sort of like, “what’s your damage, dude?We’re moving. Hillary doesn’t even start singing until 11:30. I know you’re probably tired and cranky having to get up so early, and I can understand that because I get cranky when I don’t sleep…
But can we please have respect for the people working this incredibly long line at this event that is most likely very stressful for them? Can we just have a bit of patience since all of us obviously have nowhere to go, judging by the fact that we’ve willingly given our entire mornings to meet Hillary Clinton?”
I heard some other comments to the line monitors, but I don’t need to try to regurgitate them all now. The point is, line monitors, if you’re reading this, I appreciate you. You all were kind and informative and patient and I’m sorry for the people who didn’t treat you with respect.
So, the line starts moving. We’re all way too excited. (That’s actually not possible because she’s Hillary Clinton. There’s no amount of excitement that’s too much to meet her.)
Even though I *just* talked about patience, I’ll admit it seems like possibly the slowest moving line I’ve ever been in. (In real life, it really didn’t move all that slowly. We just wanted our books *so* badly. I just wanted to have that wristband in my possession – ’cause a wristband means you get to meet her). So, we’re dying to just get the band, get the band, get the band.
Finally, *trumpets blare, lights up* I’m in the store.
When I was first getting tests done in California, I passed these awesome squares on the way to the lab! I obviously had to do a little dance break, pretending I was in the Billy Jean video
Time for another installment of this Wednesday/Sunday night series!
So, I get to Big Kidney Day at a time of morning I don’t like to see unless it means I’m still up (or running a marathon). But, I was happy (ish) to do it if it meant giving a kidney.
Considering I’d already had to pee for these people 40 billion times, I did not use the bathroom before I got there – fully prepared for them to say, “Pee for us!” right when I got in. And wouldn’t you know it? I did in fact need to pee for them.
(I almost forgot until later, they’d warned us in the confirmation letter that we’d need to give a urine sample when we got there. So, I wasn’t all that cool for not peeing that morning – as that was more just paying attention and apparently semi-remembering, not thinking ahead in a cool knowing way. Wah wah. Moving on…)
I met some of the other potential kidney donors as we were waiting for the day to start. Everyone seemed quite nice.
We were taken back into the office one by one, and weighed on this humongous scale. Also, we got what I like to refer to as our mugshots
We had to hold up a sign in front of us with our name and maybe even our patient number. (Plus it was 7:30 in the morning. So, I probably looked a little like a mess (just as I’d kinda think many people do in their mugshots – from whatever situation landed them in jail).)
Before you knew it, Big Kidney Day began. We got yet another packet of paperwork. (Some papers we needed to fill out. Some were more to read.)
The nurses and doctors talked to us. In case we hadn’t learned enough from the reading packet and the DVD, the doctors were extremely thorough in explaining everything.
If there’s reason to believe one of your kidneys functions better than the other one, that one stays with you. If there’s no reason to believe that, you’re more likely to have your left kidney taken because the vein is almost always thicker and longer on that side.
They told us about the 4 days in the hospital and what to expect on each one.
They also shared that there’s a federal mandate that they monitor you a 1 month, 6 months, 12 months, and 24 months post-surgery.
They tell you about the small scars you’ll have (since they do it laparoscopically).
You’ll be on a lifetime ban from NSAIDs (Motrin, Advil, Aleve, etc.) Of course, sign me up for this because I hate pills!
For 6 months after your surgery, your remaining kidney will grow a bit. You’ll never be at 100% of the kidney function you once had – but we have extra that we don’t need. You’ll perform at about 2/3 what you usually did, and for most adults that’s still plenty enough to live a normal life.
In Ohio, you can write off any expenses incurred due to being a living donor on your state taxes. That doesn’t affect me, but just thought I’d bring it up if any of you are curious.
Someone asked if alcohol would be an issue. I don’t really drink, but if I decide I want to, I’m free to get crunk! The surgeons said having one kidney shouldn’t affect alcohol consumption since that’s more about your liver.
This is where we’ll pick up with more of the talk next time.
I had my shirt all ready to go. Now I needed my pants. As one might suspect, vanity was my downfall here. Ah vanity, getting me every time.
My thought was, “You’re gonna be covered in mud and water and everything. Don’t wear pants that are too tight in any places, because when you’re sopping, any tight areas are going to be revealed.”
This was a horrendous thought process. I did indeed wear a nice loose set of pants – with heavy fabric – and they felt like they were gonna fall down on the course multiple times! What kind of genius goes to a mad run in the heaviest (and some of the loosest) pants they have?
Wear thin fabrics that aren’t going to weigh you down so much, Aurora. Wear pants that fit snugly and aren’t going to keep partially sliding off as you go up and down and all around crazy obstacles. Aye, aye, aye.
At least I made a nice decision with my shoes. I’d tried on these Brooks Dyads at an expo once, and I loved them. But I didn’t have the money in my budget to buy them at that expo. So, a few months later I ordered them online. However, there was some update or something that slightly changed them. They didn’t work as well for me with the change.
I didn’t want to waste perfectly good shoes. So I’ve worn them sometimes for non-marathon training type things, but I knew they were never going to be wildly useful shoes to me… until… (duh, duh, duh – *triumphant chords*) Irvine Lake Mud Run!
Nice sturdy shoes that really are overall good shoes (even if not my marathon shoe of choice) that won’t be wasted by only wearing them one more time, but also won’t be missed if I never see them again – these are definitely the ones to go with. *Correct-shoes-on-hand dance*
As far as why the Kanye shirt ended up being moot – it didn’t really dawn on me that all the people running for Blindstart would be wearing the same shirt. Truthfully, I didn’t even totally know that we were just one group within the race – as opposed to it being a Blindstart race – until I gleaned it from the emails as the day got closer.
I’m not used to wearing a race shirt given to me at the race on race day – because I know the rules… the unwritten race rules – only newbs wear the race shirt before they complete the race… but I didn’t count on getting an extra charity shirt, ’cause I haven’t done a lot of running with charities.
So, that’s how the clothes came together. Uh, but how am I going to transport them? How many bags and towels and things do you need for a mud run? Oh goodness. That’s up next.
(P.s. I’m sorry to keep starting and stopping stories, but we have to talk about my birthday before we get a million years away from June. So, let’s explore that. And then let’s come back to this and Hillary Clinton. Thanks!)
The night before the race, I was wondering what kind of fabulously cute outfit I wanted to wear to try my best to look great in the photos from my first mud run – when my friend James pointed out that I do not want to wear a super cute outfit that I love in case the outfit gets so wrecked that I’m never able to wear it again.
For the record, I’m not completely oblivious to life and how things work. I’d had that thought earlier, around the time I’d signed up. At some point, it just fluttered out of my head as my super vanity took over.
Then I started looking for things I wouldn’t mind potentially ruining. I *just* did another purge of my closet within the last couple of weeks.
(I was pretty much hemorrhaging clothes, because I was getting things in my new size, but all my clothes that fit me when I was fatter still existed in my room. I thought, “I can’t take this anymore!” So, now I’m down to probably about 10 or so outfits – and that includes everything! Workout clothes, dressy clothes, office attire – I have maybe 10 looks. (It’s pretty much all workout clothes with a couple jeans and a dress or two thrown in.))
So, I’m rummaging through my clothes. And I find a shirt from a Kanye West concert! To me, this is the perfect thing to wear. It’s special to me – special enough for my first mud run – because an awesome memory is attached to that shirt. My dad bought it for me when we went to a spectacular, beyond words, insanely incredible Kanye West concert together.
Apparently I have no idea which way is forward when I can’t see…
But shouting from the rooftops “I’m a Kanye West fan” meant something different in 2007 than it does in 2014.
I’ve said on this blog before that I feel bad for him and he’s free to do whatever he wants, of course.
I don’t want to sound judge-y about him, ’cause no one deserves to be judged.
But I also don’t necessarily want to wear a Kanye shirt around anymore in my day-to-day life.
So, I think I’ve found the perfect shirt because it’s special enough to wear for an exciting new adventure, but I probably won’t be wearing it around anytime soon. So, let’s do this.
However, that idea becomes moot later when it dawns on me we’re all wearing the same shirt. So, I suppose what I’m saying is forget everything you just read ’cause it maters not now. And let’s talk more about the race tomorrow!
Yes, indeed. I completed the 3 1/2-ish mile obstacle course run while blindfolded!
(I say “ish” because the FAQs say longer than a 5k, shorter than 4 miles. Anyway, an over-3-mile run…)
“Why would you want to run it blindfolded?” – you’re possibly wondering.
The moment I found out this opportunity existed, I knew I just had to do it. It sounded different, interesting, cool, wonderful. It sounded like an experience – one I really wanted to – practically needed to – try!
I’d been looking on volunteermatch.org for volunteer opportunities when I read about this charity – Blind Start – looking for people to run with blindfolded runners, as guides. I thought, “run as a guide?! Forget that! How do I become a blindfolded runner?!” (Sure, it sounds fun in it’s own way and everything. But I must do a blindfolded obstacle course mud run now that I know this is a thing.)
Blindstart is a 501(c)3 charity whose missing is to “help blind and visually impaired persons learn and develop job skills to enable them to ultimately lead lives of independence.” So, they gave this opportunity to runners to go blindfolded with a guide so we could physically understand what it would be like to tackle the course if we were blind.
I’d never done an obstacle course race before. This was definitely the way to start!
So, I signed up, chose the option of blindfolded runner, and got pumped.
I would say I got ready – but what did I really do to get ready? Nothing.
I thought “eh, 3 miles? Pretty confident I could do that in my sleep, Holmes.” As far as the obstacles were concerned – what? We do a bit of crawling and climbing? I can probably do that. I go to Bar Method. It’s only 3 miles! How many obstacles could there be?
As far as the being blind part was concerned, Blind Start had a few practices available for the blindfolded runners. I asked if it would be okay if I weren’t able to make it. They said it wasn’t a problem as far as they were concerned – as long as I didn’t mind going out blind. (Good use of my words there, right?)
I definitely didn’t mind. I thought it’d be fun to experience it for the first time on the actual course. (And oh, was it ever.)
The only thing I really did to get ready was putting my stuff together, and I got a big ol’ F as my grade on that – which is what we’ll talk about Monday night (after Sunday night kidney stories).
So, all the blood, urine, cheek swabs, blood pressure readings, past medical records – all that jazz was approved.
That meant the next step was going into the hospital for some tests. For me, since I was being tested at a hospital in Ohio, this meant flying out there.
It wasn’t a huge deal. A bunch of people I love live there out there. I love getting away from Los Angeles whenever I get a chance. I wasn’t working at the time. So, what’s the harm?
I was prepared to stay in Ohio for many weeks, because I thought I was going to basically go and give a kidney.
I’d asked at the beginning of the process how long it usually takes from start to finish. The donor coordinator said it usually takes about three months. I started my testing in December. We were going into March now. So, we were right about at the 3-month mark.
Plus, all I had left were some tests performed at their hospital and the “Big Kidney Day” they do there. My understanding was that once you were approved, they basically worked around the donor’s schedule.
I knew March/early April was looking like a good time for me life/work-wise. So, I was ready. I packed ready to stay for 8 weeks to finish up the testing, get into surgery soon after, and then recover.
Oh goodness were my roommates (and I) surprised to see me back just two weeks later.
I mean, I always knew there was a chance I wouldn’t be approved… I heard this crazy story about someone who made it all the way to one of the final tests – the CT scan with contrast of her kidneys. Only in that test did she finally learn, she’d only been born with ONE kidney! Her whole life she’d only had one kidney but never knew… Why would she? When was the last time you saw your kidneys?
(By the way, that’s my go-to story whenever ever anyone says, “How will you function without one of your kidneys?!” Well, for all you know, you might be doing that in this very moment!)
Anyway, I knew there was a chance I wouldn’t be able to give – but I never, ever in a million years thought it would be for the lame reasons for which they turned me away. (Can you tell I’m still bitter? ;))
So, once or twice a month they have “Big Kidney Day” at the hospital. They don’t call it Big Kidney Day. But I do, because why not?
What happens is everyone who’s considering giving a kidney, and has gotten past the initial few months of testing, comes in together for one big meeting. (It’s easier to get everyone in on the same day.) My Big Kidney Day was March 4th (at 7:30am(!!!) read: 4:30am for someone still feeling California time). (Ow.)
In case you haven’t heard, every year on my birthday, I do something I’ve never done before.
I know we’re talking about this in July (instead of June) because we’ve been busy talking about kidneys, Hillary Clinton, and mud runs – oh my!
For the record, my birthday is indeed in June. It’s June 25th – halfway between Christmas and Christmas (and the anniversary of Michael Jackson’s death).
I started this whole doing something I’ve never done before in 2010. Coincidentally, that was 1 year following Michael Jackson’s death.
In case you’re not an avid blog reader of mine, I love and adore Michael Jackson. He was the reason I was inspired to get into the entertainment industry. I was inspired by him to try to be a better person and do the charity work I do (though admittedly some of that is also Cory Booker and my dad and other good influences).
But Michael Jackson was a humongous part of my life (even though I never met him), and it was pretty devastating when he died… in fact, I always (half-jokingly) say my heart literally broke when he died, because that was around the time I found out about my heart issues.
In 2010, I put on a public workshop of a musical I’d written. I’d never performed a full musical I’d written for a public audience before. So, that was something new.
There wasn’t some master plan to start this “new thing every year.” It just sort of happened that between my job starting with America’s Got Talent and wrapping things up on the east coast – leaving school and my apartment and all that jazz – my birthday ended up being the weekend I could make it work. So, that’s what I did.
from SkyRobics – June 25, 2013
It was nice to ring in my birthday with a project. Quite honestly, while in the car running last-minute errands before the show, I cried a little as I listened to the station playing all Michael Jackson all day, honoring his life on this anniversary of his death.
Even before Michael Jackson died, my birthday has not always been the best day. It seems like things always go wrong – someone breaks into my apartment and I get robbed, or other smaller things get wonky. It’s just never seemed to be an awesome day.
And especially now that my role model died on my birthday, I could tell on that first anniversary that it would be an extremely sad day. And I wouldn’t necessarily want to get up and do anything. So, instead of wasting the day wallowing, thinking about how rough June 25ths seem to be – it’s better to grab the day and really do something with it.
It’s also a bit of tempting fate – like, “what’s up? You usually make this day pretty crummy. I’m gonna go on a police ride a long [or whatever]. What do you have to say about that?”
Someday when I then die on my birthday, feel free to talk about how foolish I was.
So, in 2010, after inadvertently starting this tradition, I thought it’d be a nice one to continue.
Before going on the ride-along, I just thought about it as this semi-adventure of trying something new and maybe seeing somebody get handcuffed and Miranda-ed and all that.
I didn’t think about all the actual problems in our world when it comes to people and our justice system and all of that.
I talked with officers a bit about the homelessness problem in southern California.
Earlier this year during my 52 volunteer activities, I fed the homeless on Skid Row.
I thought I’d been doing something good and helpful, but when I talked about it with the officers, they said that some programs that just feed people, but don’t give them any other services (such as help in finding a job or a home), don’t actually help them. They said homeless people can grow to rely on free food, and then can continue to stay homeless without any plan for their future.
After hearing about it from the officers’ perspective, I could see how feeding people who are homeless might really not be helpful after all.
We also talked about the high rate of recidivism back into the prison system once someone has already been in it. We talked about overcrowding, and not even being able to arrest people (or keep them) for some smaller offenses anymore.
Maybe in some ways that’s good that people aren’t getting locked away for some smaller offenses.
But I just felt like I left with so many unanswered questions – not because the officers weren’t helpful. They were so open and informative and awesome. But there seem to be some questions that don’t necessarily have answers.
How do we truly help people? How do we curb homelessness? How do we equip prisoners to never end up in jail again?
Once I got home from that sweet vacation with my dad (which really is more like picking up from two posts ago (sorry!)), I had to have three blood pressure readings.
They could be self-reported. So, I went and took pictures of the monitor at the local drugstore. (Pictures weren’t required. But I took them to be thorough.)
One of my blood pressure readings was done at my gynecologist’s office, ’cause I happened to be getting my yearly pap smear in that time period – which is actually one of the requirements needed by the kidney people. So, that worked out nicely.
I sent those things in. I also had to send in some self-administered cheek swabs. And with everything looking good, I got to move on to some blood draws and urine collections (yee haw) at a lab by my apartment.
I didn’t write down how many times I had to make trips to the lab. It felt like it a million, but it was probably about 7-ish. At least one test was done while fasting (and I wasn’t warned that I’d need to be). Usually, I tried to go in immediately after waking up, to cover my bases just in case.)
I’m not sure what each different blood test was for, but I was definitely pricked multiple times. Of course, this was no big deal. When I was in the hospital they used to wake me up in the middle of the night to make sure they got blood draws every however many hours. So, once every few days is nothing.
…And a little smile pose, because why not? 🙂
I will say though, bring a book here! The lab didn’t take appointments, so I kept having to just show up and wait. And wait. And wait, and wait.
I got pretty good at kind of understanding what days/times were usually less busy than others.
As I mentioned, in addition to the blood tests, there were urine tests. Some were just in a little cup, but I had to do a 24-hour urine collection on 3 separate occasions. They give you this big orange jug. You take it home, and keep it by your toilet. And every time you pee in a 24-hour window, you put that pee in the jug.
I see how this could be an annoyance in someone’s day-to-day life. A lot of people are out living and doing some of their peeing at work or at other places that aren’t their homes.
Also, some people share bathrooms. (I am lucky enough to have my own bathroom.) But for people who don’t, it might be a little annoying to your roommates – “Uh, why is there a jug of pee by this toilet?” “Oh, good question. Funny story…”
But, a pee jug (or two if you drink a lot of water, as apparently I do) in your home for a total of 72-hours isn’t really that big of an inconvenience as far as I’m concerned.
All of those tests kept coming back great, and we’ll pick up here next time.
So, the officer is working on convincing T to go with us.
I can feel that he almost might. So, I jump in to the mixture, leaning in, asking, “would you please mind going with us? We’d love to give you a ride over there. Come on. Just ride with us. It won’t hurt you to take a ride.”
He reluctantly agrees! Yay! Can you believe it? I sort of felt like I helped! *pat on my own back, small hair flip*
When I relayed that story to a friend, he said it sounded like “good cop, nicer cop” tehehe. I thought that was quite a funny way to explain it.
So, Officer Holloway and I talk to T on the way to the VA. I ask if he has any kids. He says, “not as far as I know!” Hardy-har-har.
We got to the VA, and Officer Holloway made sure he fought for T to really have someone in his corner looking out for him. We met another veteran there – J who is staying in an apartment on a the VA campus. He was telling T all about how he could be housed there and how if T would only wait until 9:30 he’d even take the shuttle over with him to talk to a case worker!
We were told that of course T couldn’t get his knee surgery until he was sober for a bit (I don’t know how long there needs to not be any alcohol in his system.) But, there was even a program to help with sobriety on the campus.
T seemed extremely skeptical about everything… Although, who knows – perhaps he should’ve been. I don’t know the system or how it all works. All I know is that I really hope he stuck around and was able to get the help he needed.
After our time at the VA, Officer Holloway took me back to my friend’s apartment. Before the ride along was officially over, we did take a few pose-y pictures of me in and around the police cruiser.
I asked if I could sit in the back and hold the bars on the window as though I was getting arrested. Officer Holloway said I definitely did not want to do that, ’cause I have no idea whose been in the back of that vehicle peeing and spitting and who knows what.
Okay then.
Before I said goodbye, I found out that Officer Holloway’s partner had arrested a sex offender while we were at the VA! I don’t know any details, but it sounded dramatic, and we totally missed out on it.
Though I will say, even though most of my friends reacted with “I can’t believe you missed an arrest!” – I think I’m happier having interacted with someone who will possibly be helped rather than interact with someone who’s being punished and thrown in jail (though perhaps, maybe also helped in ways he needs – who knows)…
As the sun was now out and the day beginning, I snuck back into my friend’s house just in time to wake him up for work – with June 25th, 2014’s experience complete.
So, the homeless guy throwing spirits, when asked for his ID, gave a printout of a previous arrest report!
Do you find that funny? Because I pretty much do.
He was given another citation – which he tore up right in front of us. Technically, I think he could’ve then been given another one for littering, but the police officers didn’t give him any more.
When he was told he had to leave the premises, he started stashing away his cardboard box in the bush behind him. The officers were like, “yeah, don’t do that… Ya can’t treat this closed property as your home.”
We had to make a stop by the station to write up a quick PCD on someone who’d been arrested the night before – since a judge needed to review his case today. A PCD, by the way, is a probable cause declaration, explaining why someone’s been arrested. Isn’t that cool that I’m learning police lingo?
While we at the station, I see some of the officers I met earlier that morning have also come back because they’re measuring out drugs in the evidence room. Somebody got busted.
Officer Holloway fills out the PCD. Then we get back on our way.
That’s when we meet our new friend. I’m not sure that I should give his name on the blog,, so I’ll call him T.
He was lying on the sidewalk. He seemed a bit disoriented (though I guess wouldn’t we all if we’d just been woken up). But we found out he drank a lot – so I think that was part of it. He had some abrasions on his forehead, and we thought he might’ve fallen – possibly due to his bad knee, or to alcohol.
We found out he was a veteran who’d served in the Navy for literally decades. (I know. It’s a morning full of sadness, as we’d suspected it might be.)
Officer Holloway told him he’d really like to take him to the VA, have T’s forehead and knee examined. T didn’t have that much faith. “I’ve been to the VA before. They’re not helpful!” But the officer tried to explain that the VA is under a lot of scrutiny now and maybe it would be a helpful place.
Think we could perhaps get him to go with us? Let’s find out tomorrow.
“Grr, book him!” is the face I’m trying to rock there.
Picking up from yesterday –
So, we head out on the town, doing some patrolling and such.
First, we found a guy sleeping in a closed park. I felt so bad for him! We started talking about his situation and why he was sleeping in a park. He’d lost his job; his last parent died. One sad thing after another seemed to be happening to him. I wondered, “Is this going to be a morning of all the saddest stuff ever?”
The officers gave him some advice of some places around that could help him – but all of the places that serve the homeless are apparently only open during business hours. There’s needs to be a place that will take people at any time of night.
I know of at least two places in New York City like that (though one is only for younger people – I believe under 22 years old…. but one will take anybody). I know those places can exist. Why don’t they in Santa Monica?
So, I don’t know where the poor park-sleeper went. I do know he looked very tired. For all I know, he walked away for a minute, then went right back to the park. Wherever he went, I hope he’s okay…
We stopped by a 7-11 a little later. I almost wanted to get a donut to try to play into the stereotypical cop role. But, that wasn’t healthy, and it wasn’t fair to police officers. So, I didn’t.
We found two more homeless guys on closed properties. One was trying to tell us a story about how a stranger had given him 50 billion dollars. (The details changed when he told it to Officer Holloway’s partner – not that we really suspected the story was all that legit in the first place.)
Turned out this guy had a number of citations for this same offense. So, he got another one. And that’s all that happened there.
As far as 2nd of those two homeless guys – he was making a bunch of hand gestures, trying to rid himself of the spirits that we were bringing over. He seemed pretty nice to the two officers, but he was not happy to see me there! He just kept asking, “who’s that girl?! I have nothing to do with her! I didn’t steal her stuff!”
We tried to explain that weren’t accusing him of stealing anyone’s stuff. But he was not hearing us. So, I kicked it in the cruiser while the officers talked to him.
[Edited to add: The guy I originally tried to give to from MatchingDonors… He died 3 days after this posted, waiting for a kidney. So, that’s really devastatingly sad. And also, makes me feel a little weird about trying to see the silver lining about giving to a stranger. But it also kind of drills the point home that if you don’t ever get entangled emotionally about a stranger’s life, you won’t have this weird sadness about someone you never knew.]
I mentioned in the last post, that after learning if things don’t work out at one hospital/with one person, you can actually give to a new stranger – like never know/never meet them type of stranger. Spoiler alert (I suppose, though I have mentioned it many times haha): I was rejected from this hospital completely… Ultimately for various reasons, I was not able to give a kidney to the man I originally was there to try to give to. But at least now we’re like semi-friends, or at least acquaintances. And I can’t wait for the day when I find out he’s gotten a kidney from someone else!
So, anyway, since me being an integral part of his journey seems off the table, let’s get into all the silver linings of giving to a stranger – which is what I’ll be doing next!
For one thing, which has been mentioned (sorry to retread ground here), I do not want to be judge and jury! I don’t want to decide based on a profile and a photo who deserves to get her life back and who doesn’t. That is too much pressure. Plus too much bias can seep in.
Also, I don’t want this person to feel beholden to me for the rest of her life. I don’t want her to feel pressured to send me holiday cards or to show me she’s using her kidney in crazy adventures. If she is, great. But I don’t want her to feel nervous that I’m watching her.
Also, let’s get real. I might watch her a little! If I see that that person’s being really irresponsible and not taking care of her kidney, I’m probably not going to be the most pleased person in the world. (I get that we’re all human. But do I want to see that?)
Not to mention, what if the person does every single thing she’s supposed to – she takes all her medicines, eats great, exercises – but her body rejects my kidney? The chances of that happening are small. But it is possible. I do NOT want to see that.
I so awesome about the idea of never having any idea who got my kidney.
Some people have been playing devil’s advocate with me. “If you never know, then how do you know you didn’t save a serial killer or someone else who does horrific things?”
I won’t know. But I just have to hope that that didn’t happen. And even if my kidney saved a serial killer (although really, let’s not think like this), it got a non-serial killer closer to the top of the list. Teeniest tiniest silver lining ever, perhaps?
But I mean, if we’re going to big extremes here, maybe if my kidney goes to a serial killer, it bumps up the person who’s gonna cure cancer and world hunger up just enough that they get to live and do that. (Realistically, it’s not gonna go to outliers like that. so, I don’t know why we’re being like this haha.)
I believe in humans. And I believe there are no “good” or “bad” people, but that we all do some good and some bad things (some more than others).
Most of us strive to do more good than bad. I believe my kidney will help the world more than it will hinder it. And I choose to believe that the person who gets it is one of the people trying to do more good than bad in her life.
So, we’re at the station. And I’m reading the bulletin board… Aye, aye, aye.
I probably should just gloss over this part, because why admit when I embarrass myself? But, embarrassment is part of life. Plus, if I never talk about when I embarrass myself, what would I ever talk about, right?
So, I’m reading the bulletin board. There’s this thing on there about this guy who killed his whole family decades ago. He’s now in his 80s. A $100,000 reward is being offered for his capture.
A sculptor was even brought in to make a bust that would show what the guy probably looks like now after all these years.
Now, of course it’s absolutely terrible that he killed his family. Obviously, it’s horrible. There are no words to describe that tragedy.
But, I started wondering out loud why so much effort is going into finding one person… I wouldn’t think there’s a loved one of a victim behind it because the whole family’s dead… I’m sure they had friends and things, so maybe those people are still carrying this torch.
At first I didn’t assume friendship would be that strong to still be pushing hard after decades, but friendship is amazing. So, maybe.
Also, I’m just sort of curious why the FBI is putting a lot of work into a guy who – as far as they’ve mentioned in the paper – hasn’t killed again, and isn’t suspected of any other crimes…
I thought that was sort of the point of getting criminals off the street – making sure more people don’t get hurt. I’m of the mindset that if this dude totally snapped, he’s probably dead by this point if he still isn’t captured.
Maybe not. What do I know? Maybe he’s living the high life on some island somewhere. But I just figured there have to be more current criminals who are in the midst of sprees and horrible things I don’t even want to think about.
I very stupidly mentioned that on Criminal Minds they’ve said in different episodes that people have stopped killing when they’re too old because it’s so physically taxing.
And this officer is all “oh, ’cause TV always gets it right!”
This was in the middle of a back and forth, ’cause he already started in on me when I was wondering why so much energy is being put into someone who doesn’t sound like a big current risk…
He tells me about how justice is important! It doesn’t matter how much time has passed. People need to pay for their crimes. And then I start feeling horrible, ’cause he’s all “what if it had been your loved one who’d died?”
And I tried to dig myself out of the hole like, “well, I just meant – ” And of course if I tried to say anything else, my foot just went deeper and deeper in my mouth.
It was rough. And I was in the wrong. And I shouldn’t act so nonchalant about any criminals. And I felt so bad!
Thankfully, Officer Holloway could see how bad I felt and only playfully ribbed my about it instead of putting me in time out of anything…
So, I hung out a bit with Kris in the line. We wondered aloud whether we were close enough to meet her (though we believed we were). We kept hearing different numbers as far as wristbands went. Some people thought they were going to give 400. Some people thought they were going to give 1000. None of us really knew.
But the smallest number we heard was 400. So, where were we in the line? Were we going to be able to make it happen?
Kris went around the corner to count. We were about 175. Not too shabby. We were fairly confident.
We ended up befriending Greg (behind Kris). Greg had worked in politics for a long time. It was actually a very interesting line to be a part of because I kept overhearing all these wonderful conversations about policy, my favorite politicians, and stories of people who’d worked in the biz. Granted, what else should I have expected from the line to met Hillary Clinton?
I didn’t think about it until I got there, but once I was there, I was actually slightly intimidated. Was I going to be able to keep up with all these smarties? I’m happy to say that as far as I can tell I held my own. *high five*
I brought my computer and was a little preoccupied during some of our hours of waiting. I certainly still engaged and listened and had a good time. But I also still had to do some work. That was the deal I made with my boss. I could go and have the time of my life, but I needed to do my best to still be on emails and getting at least some things done, if possible.
So, we wait and wait, conversate, get lost in our technology for a bit, then continue being friends, and on and on.
(Yes, I know conversate is not actually a word. However, I like how it sounded with wait. And, because it’s used so often, it actually appears in some dictionaries now! What up, Holmes?)
As the morning goes on, people from The Grove (the shopping center where the Barnes and Noble is) bring everyone in line coffee and water! What? How nice was that?
As we’re waiting, we start to notice more and more people showing up and getting in front of us because they had friends saving their place. Greg starts to say he’s seen this too many times before. You think you’re at a certain place in a line. Before you know it, you’re twice or three times as far back and get shut out of an event…
We started taking bets on how far back we thought we were now.
Just before 8am approached, I went to count.
This is where we’ll pick up next time.
(p.s. I love and adore Hillary Clinton, and can’t wait to finish this story. But we have *so* much to talk about, I need to put it on pause for a bit to get through the blind mud run and my birthday. Sorry ’bout that. Thanks for being cool about it (I’m assuming)! :-))
At at the beginning, they told me even if I didn’t end up being a match for the original guy, there would be many other people here who needed kidneys and there would be a way to make sure I donate to someone. So, I was sure, no matter what, I was going to be giving a kidney here. (BAHAHAHAHAHAHA… Little did I know!)
Anyway, I took that time to respond back to everyone on MatchingDonors, saying I was no longer looking for someone. I’d found my hospital.
It was a little heart-wrenching to basically say, “You know how you really, really wanted a kidney and you’re super nice and all, well you can’t have mine. Good luck!”
(Obviously I phrased it better than that (I hope!). But it still felt callous and rough nonetheless.)
Some didn’t respond, which is totally fine. I mean, what are you really going to say? Some responded with encouraging words, thanking me for working toward be a living kidney donor at all – even if it wasn’t to them.
Some weren’t done fighting for themselves, saying if anything went wrong in the process and I had to start with a new person or go somewhere else to please keep them in mind.
At the time I thought, “Like that could ever happen.” But now I see that they’ve been on the list long enough to know the process is not always as smooth as one would hope.
It’s kinda hard to see, but here’s the legend of the model, if ya need it.
And good for them for fighting for themselves (even if some came off a little pushy or desperate – heck, I’d come off that way too if I needed a kidney!).
However, I was certain at this point that no matter what, I would not be using Matching Donors anymore. Nothing against the website. But in all this learning about the kidney process, I found out that you can just go to a hospital and say, “Hey there, I’d like to give a kidney to whomever needs it.”
(Why in the world don’t they make that so much clearer in online articles?!)
We’ll probably talk later about why I’d so much rather give to a stranger, when I go through this again. But, suffice it to say that once I knew that was an option, I was done with MatchingDonors.com forever.
When my dad texted to wish me luck on my ride-along, I texted this back to him, saying “Officer De Lucia is getting ready to walk the beat! Grrr ;)”
Picking up from yesterday –
So, on the night of June 24th, I slept over at a friend’s place who lives in Santa Monica – since my ride-along was at 3am, and being in Santa Monica already would be a lot more convenient than being in downtown.
My lovely, sweet, wonderful friend from work put me straight to bed immediately after work, so I could try to get as much sleep as possible. He dozed off on the couch, letting me have his humongous bed all to myself. (Aww. Sweet, right?)
I woke up bright and early (even before my alarm, as though my body clock was ready, baby!).
I got dressed in my cool civilian superhero duds. Officer Holloway even picked me up on the way to the station – full service treatment over here!
As I waited for him to get there, I gently woke up my friend and told him it was time to move into the bed. (I would’ve just tried to carry him, but you know, still working on that upper-body strength.)
Once we got to the station, I signed my life away on one of those big, scary release forms – though I wasn’t really all that worried. I got to meet the sergeants working (since the ride-along forms were in their area).
They seemed nice and funny. In fact, there was a half eaten birthday cake from someone else’s celebration, and we joked how they’d prepared for me – even getting me a cake. Hardy-har-har. 😉
After that, I went to the police officers’ area where they had their desks and computers and things. Officer Holloway went to change, and I met some of the other people who’d be out on the beat.
There was a bulletin board in the room with some people to watch out for, who were armed and dangerous and such. So, that was good to know to be on the lookout for those guys.
And that bulletin board will play a part in the next part of the story, which I’ll talk about Monday (after Sunday’s kidney installment).
Out on the beat in the middle of the night. Uh, oh. Is somebody in trouble…? (Spoiler alert: Not really…)
My awesome dad was the one who came up with this super cool idea!
My dad was asking about what I was going to do for my new thing this year, and I was really uncertain. I knew I couldn’t get out of work, so it was a matter of going somewhere very early in the morning or very late.
Golf, laser tag, and even painting stuff at Color Me Mine all were little possibilities that I was probably going to do if I couldn’t think of anything better. That’s when my dad suggested this brilliant idea – “what about a police ride-along, sweetheart?”
Huh. I’d never thought about that!
We looked into a bit while on the phone together. I’ll admit, I didn’t look too deeply into the LAPD process, but from what I could gather it was a whole ordeal – it sounded like they got thousands of requests a year and we’d be lucky to hear any sort of response… Preference was given to people who were in training to be police officers. The idea seemed very far-fetched – especially because this was only a couple of weeks before I wanted to do it.
I ended up working the Santa Monica Festival, and thank goodness I did! While I was there, I met an officer who was doing community outreach and stuff. I said, “Hey, how hard would it be to do a ride-along?” He said, “Not hard at all. Here’s my card. Ride with me.” I said, “How far in advance do I have to set one up? ‘Cause I really want to do one on my birthday, but that’s about two weeks away.”
He looked in his phone, was working on my birthday, and said he’d be happy to take me.
Whoa! Way easier than I thought!
(How lucky was it that Officer Holloway works the 3am shift, so I wouldn’t even have to miss work? Boom! Stars aligned.)
When I decided to give a kidney, I was sure about it.
And it’s a good thing I am!
I was shocked – honestly shocked by the reactions of my close friends and family.
They certainly are allowed to react however they want and have feelings and everything. I just wasn’t expecting what I got.
I was expecting, “Good for you! How exciting!” and all that jazz. But no. I got a lot of “What?! That’s an awful idea! Major surgery for a stranger? I could maybe understand for a family member, but come on!”
Okay, well, this stranger is someone’s family member. (And, as has been taught to us by many, many sitcoms – our real family is the one we choose, not the one we’re related to by blood.)
Granted, this stranger isn’t one of those super close friends in the family that we choose. (But he could be! …Even though I’d kinda wanna leave him alone and not feel like he needs to be my bff.) Nonetheless, while he may not be my person, he is someone’s.
He has a life left to live and things hhe wants to accomplish. And as much as I truly, head-over-heels adore some of the people in my life, their lives are no more inherently special than someone else’s.
In answer to the always-coming-up question of, “What if someone you love ends up needing a kidney?” – Why hold onto my kidney on the super far off chance that someone I know might, maybe, someday in the distant future need one; when I can fill a need right now? Hopefully someone else could step up to the plate, in the future, if need be.
A little card of info I saw during one of my testing visits
Plus, it’s not even like I’m just helping a stranger. When you help one person, that usually translates into helping others.
For instance, in this situation – getting one person off the list of people who need a kidney will move other people one spot closer to getting theirs. (And often times non-directed donors can be a missing link in a chain for a multi-paired exchange, making it so multiple people get kidneys on the same day.)
The risk of dying or getting into a life-threatening situation in the donor surgery is very, very low. And multiple studies state that living with one kidney has not been shown affect your life in an adverse way.
Risk = very small. Reward for someone else = extremely large. Seems like a simple equation to me.
I understand that most of the people who reacted with worry did it because they care about me. People close to you generally don’t want to see you even possibly putting yourself in harm’s way (even though technically, we’re almost always in harm’s way by at least some percentage). But I certainly didn’t expect as much blowback as I got.
People will get on board eventually, after their initial shock. But my advice to anyone thinking about giving a kidney – really make up your mind first before you consult those close to you. Then you can strongly defend your position.
Whatever you decide, it’s a position you have to take and a decision you need to make without others kind of talking in your ear (unless of course you’re very close with nephrologists and the like, at which point, they will probably talk facts with you and not fear)…
I’d set my alarm for 4:15 (am), but I popped up in bed at 3:45. It’s possible I was dreaming about her. Usually, if I wake up in the middle of the night, there’s always that tiny moment of, “uh, what’s happening here?” But this time, within a split second of waking up, I thought, “Hillary Clinton!”
I thought perhaps I should try to get that last half hour of sleep, but I was so nervous, there was no way I could.
I got up, got dressed in that precious red leather jacket (that I like to think of as the Thriller jacket) that I’d saved from my office the night before. Since it was still practically the middle of the night (even though it was technically the morning), I spoiled myself a bit by opting for a cab instead of the bus.
Nobody was on the road! Apparently if you want to do anything in Los Angeles, get there before 5am. You can drive like you could in a normal city!
So, we get to The Grove. There’s already a pretty big line. I stop at the front to ask the first people what time they got there. It was 8pm the night prior! Good for them.
Side note: I actually saw them leaving the store after they got their book signed, and they were so very giddy. I was so happy for them! They also actually made it into some shots on the news. I’ll talk about this later, but you weren’t allowed to bring cameras up to the table. So, the fact that they have shots of themselves shaking Hillary’s hand – that in itself would’ve been worth waiting all night… But who could’ve known it would’ve played out that way?
Right after they’d told me what time they arrived, they said, “Do you have a spot yet in line?” I said, “no.” They said, “You better run. More people are coming all the time.”
Goodness were they right. To find the end of the line, I had to go all the way around the corner! Sure enough, I did see people coming from seemingly everywhere to grab their spot in line.
So, I ran up and got mine. I was next to Kris. He was very nice and we got along well. (I’m kind of his new best friend because of the amazing thing I did for him (if I do say so myself), but we’ll get to that later.)
Leading up to Hillary Clinton’s signing, I’d thought about what time I needed to get there to make sure I’d meet her.
Originally, I was of the mindset that I’d need to go the night before and camp out. After all, she is Hillary Clinton. How would it be possible that there wouldn’t be a thousand people out all night to try to meet such a powerful, wonderful, brilliant woman – and hopefully the next President of our country?
Then, since she’d been doing some other signings, I read online about what was happening elsewhere. It seemed like a not inordinate amount of people were waiting all night – like if I just got there in the early morning I’d be okay.
One article tore my heart up when it said the Jonas Brothers and Justin Bieber drew larger crowds.
Nothing against entertainers here. I’d certainly wait in a crazy line to meet Chris Kirkpatrick. (He’s from Nsync, if you’re wondering (and I totally adore him).) 5 years ago, when he was still alive, I would’ve absolutely waited a week outside for Michael Jackson if he were having an event like this and that was the only way to meet him.
So, I’m not acting like I’m any different from the average American who loves her entertainers – but come on! She is Hillary Clinton! She should be getting as large of a crowd as anyone on the planet!
Hillary.
Rodham.
Clinton.
Anyway, I called Barnes and Noble a couple of days before the event. They said the official line didn’t open ’til 5am. They did warn me that people would probably start their own line on 3rd Street in the middle of the night. But they reassured me that if I got there at 5 when the line opened, chances were good I would meet her.
I definitely thought about waiting all night, and would’ve been more than willing to do so. But I thought, “if it’s unnecessary, then there’s no point. I might as well get my sleep and such and be somewhat coherent and okay looking (or at least more so than if I’d spent the night on the street) when I meet her.”
So, I watched the DVD I’d been sent and read the pages. I filled out my medical questionnaire and sent it in – along with my records from Mass Gen.
(You may remember from another multi-part story that I’d been reviewing my medical records – it was for this.)
I was tempted to fudge some small things on the questionnaire, ’cause you know, I want to seem like the picture of health (which I pretty much totally am, of course). So, maybe let’s sweep that ulcer or blood clot under the rug? Let’s just maybe clean up that mess a little?
But, I didn’t sweep anything under the rug.
1) It would’ve been a stupid idea to fudge anything. My medical records are readily available to the hospital staff. (Not to mention, I have a blog (which is of course public) that details everything from an ulcer, to a blood clot, to multiple procedures and surgeries. I don’t know why I’d imagine I could hide anything.)
2) Even if I could hide something, that wouldn’t be a good idea. Doctors are my friends. They’re there to look out for me and take care of me. If they know I had a blog clot once, it might not keep me from donating, but they might know to keep an extra eye on that sort of thing.
3) Sure, I want to donate. But if something in my past makes that impossible, it’s better to leave this dream for someone else and go find another way to (try to) do some good in the world.
So, boom. Completely honest questionnaire and medical records sent.
I couldn’t wait to get the phone call to see if my history meant I wasn’t going to be able to give… Finally, while I was on an unforgettable vacation with my dad, I got the call.
I was approved to start the process. Now, the process is sort of long and involved. So, just being approved to start shouldn’t necessarily be all that super exciting.
But for me, I assumed that my biggest hurdle would be them saying I was a suitable donor after all that heart stuff. After all, what could go wrong after that? (Foreshadowing, much?)
At this point, once the ball was rolling, I couldn’t hold in all of my excitement. So, I started telling an inner circle of friends. Just a couple of people reacted mostly positively. (Not one reacted 100% positively in the initial phone call. Every person had at least one “but what about this…!” or “don’t do that – you’re making me nervous!”) But a couple of them came around incredibly quickly (like, within minutes)… However, I’d say the majority of people (I told more as time went on) didn’t react quite the way I thought.
The night before meeting Hillary Clinton, I was staying at my friend’s apartment. He’s out of town and lives really close to work (which makes my life a whole lot more convenient). He asked if I would move his car for him (for street cleaning days) while he’s away. In return, I get to have the easiest commute ever and feel like a tiny adorable princess in his awesomely oversized giant furniture.
So, I put a bag together of everything I’d need for these three days I’m at his place. We had a late-ish night at work. It wasn’t super late, but the last few of us who walked out together were practically the last people to leave the building… I didn’t realize ’til I got to my friend’s apartment that I’d forgotten my bag of clothes at work!
Now, usually, what’s the big deal about this? Just go back to work and get your clothes. Especially since I’m staying so close to work (a 10-minute cab ride is the quickest way to get here), just go grab them, right?
Well, usually the only way you can get back into our building after 7 is with a parking card – which I don’t have since I take the bus. So, I’m the only one in our suite who has problems getting in after hours or on the weekend. This hadn’t proved to really be an issue… yet.
So, I’m pacing around wondering, “am I going to meet Hillary Clinton in sweatpants and a t-shirt”? (It might be a little weird to have worn that at work, but it’s lax there, and some of us like to do awesome Bar Method together).
Then I text my boss to ask if he remembers me carrying a bag out, ’cause I’m starting to get worried, “did I leave it on the bus?”
He has a brilliant idea! I’d forgotten that our night assistant editor was there! Thank goodness for someone on the later shift! She’s wonderful and sweet and really nice, so I already pretty much adore her, but I was never more thankful for her presence than in this moment.
I called her and asked if I’d swing by if she’d open the door for me. She said yes.
It just so happened when I got there that the gates hadn’t gone down. So on that specific night, I actually could’ve gotten in anyway. It was almost as though I was meant to wear the jacket I wanted. (Thank goodness, as you’ll find out later!)
I got in the building, got my Hillary-meeting jacket (and my other clothes), and got back to my friend’s apartment. After all, I gotta get in bed! I have to be up in 6 hours!
Hillary Clinton. I met her. She shook my hand. I’m in disbelief forever, for the rest of my life. I can’t wait to tell you every detail. (Seriously, I have about a million posts because I’m remembering every moment, baby! Hillary Clinton.)
So, let’s start at the very beginning when I first found out. One of my friends at work told me that Hillary Clinton was going to be doing a book signing.
Of course I was dying to go, but I didn’t think there’d be any way I could get out of work… However, when I mentioned to my boss that Hillary was doing a signing, I didn’t even have to ask if I could go. He looked at me and said, “You have to go.” It was awesome! He expanded a little with something like “She’s Hillary Clinton. I know this would mean everything to you.”
Do I, or do I not have the most awesome boss?
I tried to wrangle up a partner in crime from somewhere, but I couldn’t get anyone to go with me! Some people sort of poo-pooed the idea, thinking it was going to be too much of a hassle. “Oh, 7 hours in line just to meet her for 20 seconds? What’s the point? Is that worth it?”
There was also this idea of, “she’s gonna run. She’ll be doing tons of events. There will be other times when you can meet her.” But will there be? And even if there are, why wait? You never know what could possibly happen in the future. It’s dangerous not to take opportunities when they come.
Nonetheless, going into Thursday, the week had been sort of long. There was an itsy bitsy teeny part of me that thought, “Are the party poopers right? Should I wake up at 4 in the morning to go wait forever on the hopes of meeting her for a split second? Or should I just responsibly get sleep and go to work?”
Of course, after I had that completely insane thought, I thought, “um, of course all the party poopers aren’t right!” Not to brag about myself a little (though, come on, it’s me. When do I not, right?) – but this is one of the things that I truly believe makes me special. When other people say, “it’s going to be too tiring” or “too hard” or any of those “too, too, too” things… I say, “let’s try it anyway.”
That’s how I get to live and get to experience things.
Example: I won a freaking car on The Price is Right at my first time attending a taping. I know people who’ve lived out here for years and have never gone because “eh, what are the chances I’d get picked?”
Of course, not everything you try is going to reap big rewards. Maybe I’m just way more willing to waste my time in lines and things than other people are. Maybe I’m going to fritter away my life in various lines.
But this works for me. There have been too many times I wish I’d done something (and practically zero times in which I regretted trying something) for me to not have learned my lesson by now. So, if you want me to wake up at 4 and get in a many-hours-long line to do something I really, really want to do – I’ll be there, baby!
I’ve talked all about me – my struggle with the outfit, my personal triumph of running stronger now, and all that jazz.
Now that we’ve talked on and on and on all about me for 4 posts, let’s actually get into what Color Me Rad itself was like.
They had a super excitable emcee leading everyone through Zumba before the race. I was in the first heat, so there were still people partying by the stage as I took off.
I didn’t see any mile markers, but I also didn’t think of this as a race I was dying to get through. I just thought of it as a fun little jog, so I was never really focusing on “what mile am I on?”
There were three color stations. So, I wondered if maybe those represented the miles. I have no idea.
There was only one real bottleneck when we were in the Stubhub Center. The running area got a lot more narrow, and on top of that, everyone stopped for pictures in the stadium. But, it didn’t bother me or anyone around me since the whole deal with doing a color run is letting go and not caring about your time or getting anywhere quickly.
There was only one thing I was annoyed with in the whole race… A guy was running with his dog! Hey dog guy, I read the FAQs before the race. They say no dogs allowed. I know you love your dog, but there are some places he doesn’t belong. This is one of them.
Other than that, things were pretty magical. There were tons of volunteers who seemed to be having a great time splashing color on all of us.
There was one area where you run through people spraying you with water. (I think it was water – some kind of wet substance.) I wondered why they would put us through water, because I thought that’d make the color wash off. However, I learned that areas where I’d sweat (aka the insides of my elbows) held color possibly better than anything else. So, maybe they were spritzing us to stick? Who knows. (Some people do, but I’m not one of them.)
There was a guy who ran around with a huge box of color, showering everyone around him. He seemed super fun.
Running through the color areas were cool. There was also this moment of “oh my gosh, this is there the photographers are. I can’t see anything! How am I posing? Am I posing okay?” I felt like I was in some really mild challenge “America’s Next Top Model” challenge or something.
I thought the pictures turned out pretty nicely. I’d wondered if the promotional pictures are just the very best of the best and everyone else’s just look like a big colored mess, but the pictures looked nice. Kudos to the photographers who know how to rock this race.
At the end, there was a big color bomb at the finish, led by the ever-energetic emcee. It was fun. It was just fun. I loved having such a fun morning, and I’d definitely do this race again.
This kidney stuff, it’s a roller coaster of emotions for many reasons, but one is that the people you are growing to care about may have problems (and may be taken off/put on the list during your testing).
…But, you may not have to grow to care about anyone if you give to a complete stranger. More on that later.
(By the way, if you’re wondering about the health of the mystery man, whom I don’t want to say too much about since this is the internet and I don’t want to be spreading anyone else’s personal information (though maybe in this case I should, since he wants a donor!) – this was back in early/mid December 2012. As far as I know, he still does not have a donor. But he has been put back on the list.)
So, his mom gave me the phone number I needed, and I called a transplant coordinator from OSU Wexner Medical Center.
I really did not imagine that I’d be going through a hospital in Ohio, but this seemed right since this was definitely the guy (spoiler alert – nope, not the guy, says our antigens). But when I thought he was, Ohio seemed doable. my dad lives in Ohio, so I thought it might make things fairly easy for me.
Grace* (*let’s call her Grace, ’cause I bet these people don’t want me using their real names, so I’m making up fake ones), one of the kidney donor program assistants was so pleasant and kind. She told me about the process. When I mentioned the name of the man for whom I wanted to be tested, you could hear her smile through the phone.
She repeated his name as though everyone knew who he was, and he was so popular and loved – and I’m sure he is. If he is, in real life, anything like he is online, he seems like a great guy. I’m almost certain he must be the life of the nephrology party.
Grace said that I need to be mentally prepared to not be a match for him since I guess he has sort of complicated antigens and such – but, she reassured me that even if I’m not a match for him, I would match someone in their hospital.
I told her from the beginning that I had a medical history. I didn’t want to make her waste time, postage, or anything on me – if I wasn’t going to potentially be a viable donor. But nothing knocked me out of contention during our phone conversation.
She sent me an impressive packet. There was a handy dandy DVD along with a folder full of information. So, no matter how you preferred to learn (watching or reading), (or if you just wanted to reiterate things to yourself in a second way), you were all set.
So I’m at the start line. People are already throwing color on themselves. Of course you can follow whatever fun coloring strategies you want, but mine was to wait and be blasted by the fun volunteers. Why pour pre-color on yourself? You only have to wait about 5 more minutes! Patience is a virtue, y’all.
Still, I was more than happy to take residual color from people’s silliness. After all – that’s what I was there to do.
And it actually was pretty cool that so many people had little color bombs because even though some people jumped the gun a bit (you know who you are), others waited. And when there was the countdown to the start – 3, 2, 1… (I know you know what a countdown is – just setting up the moment here) – pow, pow, pa-pow, tons of color was splashed everywhere into the air!
It was cool to see it all going up at once, then floating down on us. So, I guess what I’m saying is thank goodness for the people I was just calling out for having color in the start corral.
Jogging this 5k felt so great. I remember when I started this blog, struggling so much to not have to walk at all – during a 5k. Now I’m shooting for that in half marathons. So, it’s really nice to see and feel my growth.
I can actually literally feel my body changing (not just a warm feeling inside of “wee, I’m doing better!). I’ve been taking this class called Bar Method. It is tough, fabulous, and probably my favorite workout class I’ve ever taken. And I am actually starting to have some muscles!
I know it’s hard to believe since I never used to have any upper-body strength whatsoever, but it’s so true! When I run now, I can feel a denser, tighter, leaner girl jogging along – and that makes it easier! (Being dense doesn’t make it easier of course, I suppose lol – I certainly still need to lose some pounds… I guess I still want to be dense, but in a much more awesomely tiny way.)
But being stronger helps because my upper-body is now cool enough to hold itself up without issue. I’m not bending over at the waist, trying to rely solely on my legs.
So, yay for running feeling better. It’s a slow journey, but it is a forward-moving one. That’s for sure. (Yee haw!)
When I put on the full outfit, it hadn’t dawned on me that the white Color Me Rad t-shirt was short-sleeved! I like to be perpetually in long sleeves. I don’t love showing off my appendages. They don’t have wonderful shapes – but they look like they just might when in clothing. It’s all trickery! My precious, precious trickery being ripped away.
Yet again though, I shrugged. I’ve put together a basically white outfit. I’m not gonna worry about my arms.
I did however realize I should’ve worried about my teeth! This is one reason you avoid white outfits – even the whitest teeth look duller when you’re wearing white! Aye, aye, aye.
I haven’t gotten my teeth bleached in I think about 8 months or so. So, they’re still pretty white. But they could be whiter. (I haven’t been the best at using my at-home whitening trays, but after this I’m going to start, baby! I gotta be ready for anything, apparently since you never know when all your trickery is going to be taken away.)
I realized, though, when I was looking at photos online from other Color Me Rads – people’s teeth actually often look great because they’re shining out in a mess of color. So, let’s just try to make that happen.
So, I got dressed in my pretty unflattering outfit (that would hopefully become flattering once I distracted you with all the colors. Pa-pow!), ready to take the world by storm. After all, who cares, right? (Apparently me since I’m talking about it… but let’s not focus on that.)
I’m there to get splashed in color – not to be gorgeous. I’m there to be fun. (You could be both at the same time, but I’m sure it takes oh so much work).
Can you even imagine what you’d need to do to look good at one of those P. Diddy white parties? I never thought of the work that would need to go into it until I got ready for this. Goodness gracious that would be stressful. (I’d still love to be invited, but I’d need some time to plan.. and to totally bleach out my teeth like no one has before…)
Enough about Sean Diddy combs. Let’s get back to Color Me Rad tomorrow.
I have been on a roller coaster of emotions about the process of giving a kidney. Throughout this time, I’ve never wavered in my desire to give – but the process of giving has been interesting (to say the least).
I took notes at every step of the way. So, I’ll do my best to make sure any feelings I have now don’t cloud the (what should be positive) early posts (though I can’t promise you anything!).
In regards to this blog post title – How do you start? – I didn’t know the answer to that.
I’d read some article somewhere a few years ago about a website – MatchingDonors.com (which is mentioned in many articles about kidney donation). And that was pretty much the extent of what I knew.
I was really interested in giving a kidney when I’d originally read about it. Unfortunately, back then, I was still too close to the heart stuff (and embarrassingly, too heavy) to be considered as a candidate.
As I was looking for what was next in 2013 (eesh, you can tell this has been sitting in my drafts forever), I thought maybe now (or then, really) would be a time that I could be considered.
So, I did some googling. I went back to MatchingDonors. I made an account and started checking out the site.
It is the saddest website I’ve seen.
The guy I choose was a dancer, so here’s a still of some dancing!
People start writing you immediately. Of course they all want the same thing – a kidney. You can’t give one to everyone.
I’m not judge and jury! Who am I to decide who “deserves” a kidney?
So I read these profiles of these people – these absolutely devastating profiles. Most people are trying to figure out a way within a picture and a paragraph to tug at the heartstrings as much as possible.
Someone might put up a picture of herself with animals. (That one obviously doesn’t work on me. ;)) Or someone will put up pictures of himself with small kids or a big family. This website is pretty much the definition of sad.
I’d look for a while, then put it away for a day or two. One day, I found this guy on there and I knew immediately – he’s the one. (Spoiler alert: He didn’t end up being a match.)
Usually, I was only looking for people going through Mass Gen or Johns Hopkins. This is my body and my life here, so I only wanted the best. But, I wasn’t married to those hospitals. I was still open to other nationally ranked, great hospitals and doctors. I looked through a lot of people’s profiles. And I found the one… in Ohio.
I found this guy who’s alone in his profile picture. (He’s not trying to manipulate me with the saddest possible presentation.) He’s just showing me who he is.
I didn’t want to invade the privacy of the guy, so I put up a picture of me dancing instead of one of him dancing. 😛
(I have no idea what the right “strategy” is for recipients on this website, and I don’t judge anyone for the picture they choose. If I were sick, I’d be trying every single angle! I’m just saying that he was alone in his photo and after seeing all the other ones, I appreciated that.)
He was strong in himself, and his smile was huge. It lit up my computer screen.
He talked about how he’d been diagnosed with a disease at 12 years old, which wreaked havoc on his kidneys. And he never let that stop him!
He’s stronger than I am, and I’m wildly impressed by him. He sings and dances and won’t let anything stand in the way of his dreams. His philosophy is – “I will dance until the day I die. If that’s 20 years from now, that’s better. But if it’s tomorrow, I’ll still be dancing ’til it happens.” I admire that so much.
I thought to myself “I really (really!) hate choosing who deserves to have his or her life changed, but if I have to choose, I choose him.”
I wrote him and told him I’d love to be tested to see if I was a match. When I got a reply, it was from his mother. He was in the hospital with complications from his disease…
I will say that someone swooped in with laser tag at the last minute, and that was pretty darn awesome. It’s a simple yet super fun idea that I definitely hope to use in a year where I need something on the simpler side.
However, yoga on a paddleboard was something I’d never even heard of – and a way to make even dreaded yoga fun and interesting. 🙂 That combined with her other cool ideas – I just had to give it to Stacey.
Stacey, there’s an email in your inbox with a free code. Please let me know if you don’t get it. I’d also love to hear once you’ve successfully registered, and I’d get a real kick out of hearing all about your race!
Thanks everyone for entering! Sorry to those of you who didn’t win. Hope to see you around at the next giveaway!
Oh, and if you didn’t win, use the code SPARTANBLOGGER for 10% off!
How, oh how, did I forget to mention in the pre-race chapter the whole dressing all in white thing?!
This was something I didn’t think that much about until I realized how stressful it is for a few reasons. (Still fun, mind you – but fun and stressful, for sure.)
When I first was setting up my entry to the race, I decided to buy the white t-shirt, because why not? I was going to need a white t-shirt anyway, might as well buy theirs. (This is another brilliant idea by Color Me Rad, by the way. They seem so smart over there!)
So, I figured, okay. I got my t-shirt. I’m good.
But as I got closer to the race and started planning what I was going to wear and such, I realized “uh, wait a second. People can sort of see through white. And I have no white undergarments – none.” (Why would I, right? White is kind of boring… but I guess it can go under a lot of stuff.)
So, this is the first reason why it’s stressful to wear white – you have to worry about what you’re wearing underneath.
(Yes, this is quite similar to the last photo, but I did a bit of relevé here. I liked both poses. So, I put ’em both in!)
I also realized “hmm, what pants am I planning to wear to this part-ay? ‘Cause I also don’t have white pants. (You can see the stress building, right? ;))
So, I headed to Target. I did find an actually somewhat cute white bra. (High five, Target and Barely There.)
Then it was on to finding some white bottoms. There were pure white shorts. But I think it’s pretty safe to say I’m so not wearing shorts. There were some cute white flowy skirts I considered. After all, it is just a 5k. But ultimately, I decided I wanted pants pants pants.
There were no totally white pants – at least from what I saw. So, I shrugged and went with cream-colored pants. (I could’ve gone to other stores, but cha’mon now. (There’s not enough time in the day sometimes.))
So, I made do with cream-colored pants, knowing they should still show color pretty well. The pants were thick enough I didn’t even have to worry about getting white underwear (score).
Okay, so I have the clothing. Tomorrow, I’m gonna talk about a few more concerns with all-white clothing (*shakes head* I know, life’s rough…).
I haven’t run a Spartan Race… yet! So, here I am about to trapeze (since that’s sort of like an obstacle – and it fits in with the theme of the contest) 😛
(That means you have ’til 11:33pm Pacific on Friday the 13th. (Winners will be announced on the 14th.))
In case you haven’t seen that post, I’m asking for people to give me fun, cool, new and interesting ideas for what to do on my birthday this year (since I do one new thing every year).
In case you want some tips/pointers on where we are with that – and what kind of ideas are the dopest – let’s take a look at what we’ve got going on…
My dad awesomely suggested a police ride-along. Don’t worry. I’m not going to give the free entry to my own father (even though I would oh so love to see him rock a Spartan Race)… But that was a fabulous idea! It’s something cool and totally different and interesting. I’d love to do that, and it hadn’t even crossed my mind. So, that was an awesome idea.
Now, let’s get to these comments that aren’t from my family. James suggests wine tasting. I gotta say, that’s also a pretty fabulous idea – if for no other reason because it’s a nice, quiet little activity – which is not usually me! I’m loud and a bit crazy/colorful. So, I applaud him for taking the opposite direction of me and going with something quiet. That helps to expand my human experience. So, I like it. (But I don’t really like alcohol. So, I highly doubt I’ll actually go wine tasting. But it was a nice idea, and you never know!)
Don V. suggests barefoot waterskiing. I like that one because I didn’t know barefoot was an option. Sounds cool. (I don’t know how to swim, so I won’t be doing that one anytime soon. However, I’m not holding that against anyone who suggested water-related activities, ’cause I still love to have them on my radar.
After my 2013 new activity – SkyRobics
Nick suggested the NASCAR Experience or Xtreme Xperience. I thought these ideas were really nice because they’re not adventurous ideas I’ve often heard about. I didn’t even know the Xtreme Xperience existed, and I love hearing about new things.
Alberto mentioned a cool ultra marathon I’d never heard of (Run Iceland). That sounds pretty awesome and something I’ll keep on the back burner for when I’m doing ultras.
Ashley mentioned archery, which I thought was a pretty fun and fabulous idea.
Stacey Parzik had some rocking ideas. Yoga on a paddleboard?! I’ve said before that I struggle with yoga because it’s boring to me. I don’t find it to be all that super fun. Buuuut, I know it’s really good for me, and I think if I did it on a paddleboard, I’d have to focus so much more and it’d be so much more challenging that *gasp* I might actually come to like it.
Stacey also suggested horseback riding in Griffith Park. I totally didn’t know that was a thing that happened there. She also suggested zip-lining over Venice Beach. I love that she gave me a specific idea – not just zip-lining, but telling me where a cool place would be to do it.
…However, my google search made it look as though zip-lining in Venice Beach is closed? So, that’s too bad. But, I did come across a list of “best places to zip-line.” And this one at the San Diego Zoo looks awesome!
So, that’s where things stand right now. I know there’ve been a number of good ideas, but I’d say Stacey is probably currently edging out everybody else.
Now it’s your last 24 hours to try to take the lead!
Remember, this entry can be used for any Spartan Race in 2014 – so don’t think you have to be a Californian to enter! Go here and give me your fun idea for a new adventure – and possibly win a race entry in the process! Go!
Oh my gosh! Is it finally time to talk about kidneys again?! Yes. Yes it is.
Starting today, I will be posting kidney chapters every Wednesday and Sunday night at 11:33pm. I look forward to sharing this with you, and welcome your comments!
Picking up from part 1, let’s start with why I want to give a kidney to a stranger:
I already talked about this in part 1, but that hasn’t been enough for some people. So, let my try to elaborate.
Even though it’s been years since I was in the hospital with my congenital heart defect, I still remember vividly what it was like. I don’t at all want to sound like “wah, wah, poor me.” The doctors and nurses made it as fun and comfortable as time in the hospital could be. However, it took a real toll on my life.
It definitely made me go through some crazy emotions. (I mean, I guess nothing can “make you” do anything, since we’re all supposed to have complete control over our emotions…) But, I certainly went through some crazy emotions during my time in the hospital (and for a while after getting out).
I think even the trajectory of my life changed. Part of that was definitely due to me and decisions I made. But part of it just kind of happened when such crazy health stuff happened.
I worked and stayed in school as long as I could, but eventually I quit both.
I just remember (so vividly) every part of my life being so wildly affected by my health problem. It ran my entire life. I couldn’t decide to take a job, or go on vacation, or make any of the normal decisions other humans can make, because my heart decided for me.
As much as we can try to focus on the bright sides, I would never wish that sort of trapped life on anyone.
When I found out I could donate a kidney to someone, helping them get away from that life (the one the hospital runs), to me, it felt like a total no-brainer.
People ask me why I want to give a kidney. But that’s never even really been a question in my mind. The only question I’ve ever wondered is, “How can I not?”
To me, quality of life = life. I’m not interested in just the idea of saving someone’s life. I’m interested in the idea of making it so that someone is free.
When I was in the hospital, if my health had been dependent on a stranger stepping forward to give me freedom, I would’ve desperately wanted someone to step up for me. Thankfully, all I needed was a great surgeon. And I got that. I was saved.
I can’t imagine knowing I could be a small part of giving that gift of freedom that was given to me, and then deciding not to be a part of it. That just doesn’t make sense for my life.
I hope this has possibly cleared it up for the curious. If you still have questions, you can always feel free to hit me with them and I’ll do my very best to answer! And we’ll talk more about kidneys next week!
(Side note: I totally had a wonderful time! I happen to also be giving away a race entry (to a different race) on my blog, and if you want to win and experience something cool for free, you should enter – before Friday :-))
Back to Color Me Rad, this race truly was Rad. First off, every interaction leading up to it was amazing. Their website is funny and adorable. I was happy to read any emails I got from them because they were cool.
This race has a personality and shows it every chance it gets. So, basically this company seems pretty much to be a master of branding.
I ended up having to change races (twice!) because of, I dunno, life or whatever – jobs or things coming up. It was a simple and easy process, and super rad of them to let people change races without any hassle.
I was almost skeptical. “How can it be possible for one place to be so incredibly cool and more customer oriented than the majority of races out there?” But however they end up making it make sense for them money-wise and stuff, apparently it works. And I know I appreciate it!
So, I ended up in the Carson, CA race this past Saturday.
And goodness gracious, I was oh so embarrassed when I got there because I’d forgotten my bib!
How does that even happen? What am I, a total newb to racing? Aye, aye, aye.
So, I, slightly mortified, slink up to the booth where people are doing race day pick-up. “Uh, I forgot my bib this morning.”
They were so cool about it. No big deal about it was made at all. They just gave me another one, no problem!
I feel like I’ve been a mess in every way possible when it came to this race, and yet Color Me Rad just sort of cradled me in their arms, taking care of it.
So, thanks y’all! (Thumbs up.)
Next to the start line, there was a big stage where a super peppy emcee was leading Zumba – Basically, this race was funny and silly and a great time (and it hadn’t even started yet).
We’ll pick up here on Thursday, because tomorrow I’m starting a new series.
One person got injured cutting fruit before I got there. Many volunteers had to start at 4:30, but they said the medical volunteer didn’t need to come until 7 (since the walk didn’t start until 8:30)… no one took into account that the volunteers might get hurt. And one did.
It was the only actual injury of the day and I wasn’t around to help the person. (Someone did help them get bandaged up though, and the volunteer was totally fine.)
I gave band-aids to two people who had injuries from home (small scabs or cuts on their fingers) and just wanted to replace their band-aids.
One woman had the beginnings of a blister. So, I gave her a band-aid for it. We also had these special little moleskin blister patches in the first aid kit. She was actually really excited when I offered her one. So that was lovely.
Can I just admit to you that I’ve never even seen those blister patches before? As I was going through the first aid kit in the morning, I noticed them and googled them to familiarize myself, but I kind of didn’t know they existed ’til today. I found out the woman I was helping was actually a nurse herself, and she was super excited about the one I gave her. So, I’d take that to mean they probably work. I guess that means if you have blister problems, go try a moleskin patch.
One person actually requested an ice pack and Erin (the intern) leapt into action. She grabbed one of the plastic gloves out of the first aid kit and ran to one of the food areas and got ice out of their cooler. She was all over it and really thinking on her feet, which I always love seeing.
Speaking of the food area, this was one of the most well-stocked 5ks (or almost 5ks since this was 3 miles not 3.1) I’ve ever seen. The food started flowing at 7am and didn’t stop until everyone was leaving (or maybe even had left).
There were bagels (presented in beautiful baskets with individual cream cheese packets!), cookies, granola bars, chips, and more. There were even hot dogs! This place was so stocked.
I did love the hilarity of the nutrition table with a bunch of gluten-free options all around, trying to teach people tips of living with arthritis was right in front of the food tent chock full of gluten and sugar and all that jazz. I’m not against it. Heck, I had a hot dog (since I haven’t been offered a free hot dog since November 2012)! So I’m happy the food was there. I just thought the placement of the food was hilarious.
That sums it up. I’m grateful for the chill day since that means no real injuries… I just need to remember to bring a great book next time!
I settled in as the lone medical volunteer. (Though I did find out later that Erin, an intern there helping coordinate the volunteers, was also CPR/First Aid certified. I mean, I believed in myself and all, but I was happy to have an additional possible backup there in case it became really necessary.)
Once I started getting acclimated with the first aid supplies, it started to dawn on me, “Uh, we don’t have ice to wrap on people if they have swelling. We don’t have water to give them if they’re dehydrated. I don’t have any electrolytes. I don’t even have any chairs set up for injured people to sit in.”
(In case you’re wondering what I did have – I had basic first aid kids.)
I actually gave myself a little imaginary pat on the back for noticing this stuff. As we’ve established, I don’t usually work the first aid booth. But because I have passed oh so many by doing so many races, I think I just somehow picked up what they usually look like. So, yay for experiences coming together to help inform new ones!
There was a moment in the morning where both people who were working the volunteer check-in booth (which was located at the same place as First Aid) were away taking care of things. Gabby, this awesomely helpful volunteer showed up and asked what she could do to help.
(I know it must be so riveting to see me do slightly different poses with the first aid kit 😉 But I have the photos so why not put ’em in)
Even though I wasn’t really working check-in, I was keeping an ear out for the stations that needed volunteers, but in this moment everything was pretty well staffed. So I asked her to grab some chairs and water.
There wasn’t any extra ice she could round up. But she was helpful in setting up more than we had.
I brought our lack of supplies up to the volunteer leaders once they were back at the booth and had some down time. One mentioned my ideas to Rachel – one of the leaders of this event. Rachel seemed so sweet and nice and thankful for my ideas. She asked me to write them in an email so they could think about what they wanted to do differently for next year.
(Granted, they might not need to beef up stuff too much anyway since after all, this is only a 3-mile walk.)
Either way, that email was really my biggest contribution to the day. I’m, of course, very glad that I had a chill day as the medical volunteer where no one really needed me. I think that’s definitely what you always want when you’re doing medical stuff – for no one to be injured, and all to be healthy. But that also meant I didn’t really do anything. So at least I contributed with ideas, right?
I volunteered with this walk because I saw a listing on volunteer match for people certified in CPR to volunteer at the medical tent!
I figured since I’ve done the work to get certified, I might as well try to put it to some good use, right?
I was a wee bit nervous since I don’t usually use my CPR/first aid skills. I mainly keep my certification up to date on the off chance that something happens around me (anywhere – work, running, traveling, whatever). I want to make sure I’m able to help.
But you know how it is with things, if you don’t use them often, then your skills aren’t as strong. (Granted, it’s a wonderful thing that people aren’t getting hurt around me. Still. I like to be uber-confident in my abilities, and just taking classes doesn’t bring me to the level of confidence I’d want – though apparently I’m confident enough to raise my hand and say “I’ll do it!” when a walk is looking for medical volunteers…)
So, I brushed up the night before and morning of – going through the paperwork from my class, drilling with myself number of compressions and breaths, pantomiming what to do if someone starts choking (back blows first before you go into the straight Heimlich).
I felt pretty ready, but also wrapped in the warm feeling of knowing I’d have other people around me who knew what they were doing so we could all work together and hopefully make up at least one competent person. 😉
Alas, when I got there, they greeted me as the medical person – not one of many. Nope. Just me.
Granted, it was a small race – actually, it wasn’t even a race, just a walk. It was only a 3-mile walk at that. It’s not like I was working a marathon. Hopefully I wasn’t going to deal with a lot of injuries. (Spoiler alert: I didn’t.) So, it was fine that I was going to be the lone medical person, but it was slightly unnerving in the moment.
(Granted there were firefighters and police there. And we could’ve always called 9-1-1 for true emergencies. So, everything is cool! Don’t even sweat it.)
I’ve never even run a Spartan run, yet I already love them.
The Spartan people wrote me out of the blue (I love when people find me!) and they basically said –
“Hey, we want you to help us let the world know about our awesome Hawaii trifecta, and the cool stateside races we have coming up… aaaand we even want one of your readers to get to experience a Spartan Race for free! Wanna do a contest/giveaway?”
I said (in the tone of “yes of course”) “Do I?!”
So, here we are.
It is my birthday month. We are a mere 19 days away! If you’re a blog reader, you know that every year on my birthday, I try something I’ve never done before.
A little recap:
2010 – putting up a musical I’d written for a public audience (albeit, a small one ;))
2011 – shooting a gun (at a range)
2012 – trapeze-ing
2013 – SkyRobics
Since a Spartan Race is fun, tough, adventurous, and different – I thought it was only fitting that the contest should have to do with something fun (or tough, adventurous/different).
So help me start a list of wonderfully cool things to do on my birthday. Tell me things I just have to try! They can be tiny adventures I can do down the street, or huge adventures anywhere in the world. I want all kinds of options, ’cause you never know what each year holds!
(You can suggest as many options as you want.)
So, leave a comment on the blog, and whoever gives me what I believe to be the most awesome/sweet-business/unique idea wins the entry (good anytime in 2014 to any of the remaining cities they have – I’ll be running SoCal on September 13, come find me!).
What am I looking for? What defines awesome? It might not be what I do this year (after all, I only have 19 more days to plan!). It just means something cool and new I might not know about. I didn’t know about SkyRobics until I saw it on a blog. I didn’t know about trapezing at Santa Monica Pier ’til a friend told me about it. What cool little fun gems are hanging out in this world? Help me open my mind (and my field of reference). 🙂
If there happen to be too many entries that are too darn good that I just can’t decide, I’ll put everyone’s entry in a randomizer, or hat, or something and pick at random.
So, leave me any fun adventurous idea I gotta know about! Go on. Write your comment, and get your free race entry! (You have one week to enter! So get these in by next Friday (the 13th) at 11:33pm Pacific!)
AROO! (That’s a Spartan thing :-P)
(Edited to add: If you want to know who won, that’s here.)
Once she decided to put the fabric straight on the bed, I offered to try to sew the fabric to the foam board if that’s what she wanted, but she said she thought we could actually just wrap it around the bottom and tape it instead of trying to sew through the tough foam board stuff. I thought that was a nice idea.
So, we laid out the fabric on the bed. She flipped it over and taped underneath it.
I really adored working with Mia. I thought she was awesome!
She was a quick thinker, not afraid to make decisions (or to abandon ideas when they didn’t seem like they were working). She wasn’t afraid to ask for what she wanted/needed – asking for someone to help her sew, asking me to cut a leg when the usual volunteer who did it was busy.
She wasn’t afraid to jump in boldly. When it was time for me to cut the legs of the bed, she set our supplies up, clamping them to the table. She even held the end of it (by the clamp) to be extra helpful.
(Don’t worry. I had my other hand also holding and closer to the saw than hers. Her hand was absolutely nowhere near the saw, so she was totally safe.)
She also zipped around the barrels of supplies finding what she needed, without needing anyone to hold her hand or give her ideas.
(How many pictures do I have of myself opening boxes, right? :-P)
(Yes, I know children can’t generally run around the world completely unsupervised ’cause it could be kind of dangerous. But she was in this really small warehouse where we could easily see her across the room as she looked.)
Basically, she was strong and awesome. I love when I meet little girls who make me want to be like them. She inspired me, and I hope she doesn’t lose any of her wonderful qualities as she grows up.
So, as has happened multiple times now, I think the people I was supposed to be helping at this volunteer event helped, inspired, and taught me way more than the other way around.
I’m so glad I’m now acquainted with Trash for Teaching, and if I ever work for a place that’s gonna have a lot of leftover stuff, I’ll definitely suggest we send it there!
She really wanted to finish this bed, and time was at least somewhat of the essence since we were within probably the final 45 minutes that crafting was allowed. The guy who was doing most of the cutting still wasn’t free due to him cutting another child’s project.
However, there was an extra saw available. So, she asked if I’d cut the legs.
Okay, sure. I took stagecraft. I can saw something.
I know I’ve talked about my incredible lack of upper body strength on this blog before. But I’ve actually been doing a very intense workout class during lunch breaks at work. So, I’m stronger than I’ve ever been before.
While the hand sawing was taking longer than I wanted, I was actually mildly impressed – maybe not impressed, but at least pleased – with my ability to even do it.
But since it was taking a bit of time, I did a little sheepishly ask her, “Did the other person do this faster when you cutting the legs earlier?”
She said yes. (Oof.) Then, she said “of course though, because he was a boy.”
Oh no! Mia! I tried to explain to her that being a boy doesn’t inherently mean that he’s stronger or better at cutting or working with tools. It just means that this girl specifically (me) isn’t as strong as I should be. But please don’t think so gender role-y.
Aye, aye, aye. I’m letting down my gender too often. (Though I’m really trying to get stronger – in every sense of the word! There may be a day where I don’t let you down, ladies – maybe.)
So we cut and attached the legs. Then she started working with her styrofoam (what she’d brought back for the mattress) trying to lay it out in a way that made sense to her.
She didn’t think the pieces fit well together. I asked if she wanted to go look for bigger pieces with me, but she said no – she decided the styrofoam was actually too hard for a mattress anyway.
She thought for a second about the softer options she had. She looked around a bit more in the bins by us, before ultimately deciding to attach the fabric right to the bed itself instead of making a mattress.
So, I went over to Mia (the little girl who needed help sewing). She told me she was making a doll bed, and wanted someone to sew the mattress. She had fabric and was just looking for something fill it.
We’d been instructed before the day began that if children asked for our help on anything, we were to let them make all the creative decisions. We weren’t to really make suggestions. We were just there to help them realize whatever it was that came into their heads.
I absolutely loved that attitude! Imagination is so important, and so many people lose it. So it’s great to let it fly. Problem solving is also wildly important, and I think can help with practically every job in the world. So, that’s another wonderful skill to build. And kids can’t work very much on their problem solving if we’re trying to solve their problems for them.
So, she said she had the fabric. Before deciding what material went inside the mattress, she wanted to see how big of a mattress she’d need to make. (Smart.) The legs of her bed had finished gluing, so we flipped it over to roughly measure the bed.
When she flipped it, we realized the middle (where she’d joined two things together) dipped. My first instinct would’ve been to add legs to the middle as well… But I couldn’t say anything about that! I didn’t want to take over the project and do whatever I thought was right.
Thankfully, she suggested we add legs to the middle, which was awesome. We took the bed over to the cutting station so the volunteer working there could cut us some legs. While she waited in line for that, she decided to go get some mattress material.
I took this opportunity to quickly look up on my phone a refresher tutorial of how to sew. I was in a music in high school where I had to sew. (It didn’t have to be fantastic. It was just some stage business that I don’t think anyone was paying that much attention to – but obviously I wanted to be as great as I could be.) So, I’d had some experience – but only for a few weeks, and never again after that musical.
I raced through google piecing together a quick tutorial for myself before she came back.
I got my needle ready, was prepared to sew, and greeted her as she came back to meet me at the cutting station.
Trash For Teaching sounded pretty darn dope, so I was excited to sign up to help them.
Their little tagline-type thing is “minimizing waste, maximizing education.” They take materials that would usually go to waste, and have people make crafts (or inventions) out of them.
The materials come from many various places including businesses, even police stations, and more. (From police stations, they receive these little plastic rectangles with tons of holes – because they used to hold bullets!
There’s yarn, thread, glass tubes, paper products – basically a smorgasbord of materials with endless possibilities.
Kids can come in during certain hours of the weekend and build their own projects. It’s pretty awesome. I love watching the kids be creative and make adjustments on the fly!
(Trash for Teaching also works with schools, and helps supplement programs to help kids not only stretch their imagination, but learn about math and science and all that biznatch.)
So, I went to a weekend day. I was expecting that the day would revolve around helping the kids. But really, the day revolved around unpacking boxes and organizing new supplies. I actually enjoyed that portion of the day because I adore organizing.
And, I ended up being handed the knife so I was the box opener. That was fun because I had a specific job and had the challenge of trying to safely open the boxes (responsibly – in a way so they could be used again) fast enough to stay ahead of everyone doing the unpacking.
Ultimately, my friend who went with me also jumped in on opening boxes, which I think was a great idea. As is shown all the time – teamwork makes the dream work. Things moved more efficiently/smoother when two people were opening for a large group. (Hands can only move so quickly! :-P)
As the opening of many, many boxes started to wind down, we heard one of the leaders say, “do any of our volunteers love sewing?” No one piped up or did anything. Then she made eye contact with me.
I’m not a seamstress or anything. So, I wanted to let someone who actually had the skill have the chance to help. However, once it seemed as though they just needed someone (basically anyone) who could help this little girl sew, I felt compelled to say, “sure, I’ll give it a shot!”
Picture me and my friend James hanging out on the sidewalk under an umbrella for 3 hours. You’ve now practically heard about the entire activity.
Thank goodness James (a friend from my last job) agreed to go to this with me. It was nice to have someone to keep me entertained in a sea of sitting around.
We got there, got cool t-shirts. An extremely nice woman (who made sure we always had water and snacks) told us to move this big umbrella – the one big thing we did all day, and it really only benefited us (’cause of the shade).
We were parking volunteers. We didn’t have to take any money or tell people where to park – that was the job of the parking attendants.
We were to tell people the Art Walk was about half a mile away, and they could take a shuttle which came every 10 minutes or so. If we had people who wanted to take the shuttle, we’d flag it down.
I didn’t realize that apparently almost the entire Art Walk crowd comes early. I guess that makes sense. If there’s a lot to see, you want to get there early. But I thought since it’s California and everyone’s always late, some people had to be trying to get in at the last minute, right?
Barely. Being in the final shift, we saw maybe 3 people going to Art Walk. None of them wanted the shuttle. (Good for them. It was heartening to see people willing to walk 1/2 a mile since that old saying – no one walks in California – holds oh so so much truth.)
So we sat and talked for three hours waiting to flag down a shuttle – which we never had to do.
The whole reason I picked this as an activity is because I wanted to see the Google building it was held in. But then I checked off parking as something I’d be willing to do! How silly was that?
Why would I check off something in the sun (thank goodness for that umbrella) – and most importantly where dogs abound!
I never think about vicinity to dogs until it’s too late. Tons of people were walking their dogs. Dogs were roaming freely – not on leashes(!) at the park right across the street from us. Aye, aye, aye.
I thought volunteering with parking would be sort of contained in a lot. Maybe I’d be directing cars, or telling people where to go when they got out. It didn’t dawn on me I’d be on the sidewalk out in the dog world!
I don’t know how long I have to live in this crazy town before I realize practically everyone here has dogs. Dogs are everywhere.
At least I learned through this experience that when given the option, I should never pick parking as my volunteer station… (and really I should probably never pick an outdoor option if an indoor option is available.)
Even though it seems I maybe wasn’t budgeting my time wonderfully, Girls on the Run was all about helping. We even had a volunteer coordinator come by to see if we needed help. My happy hair partner and I said we didn’t.
Sure, we were in kind of a rhythm (and a fun, invigorating one at that)… And there wasn’t a humongous amount of room at the table. So, I think we both were thinking, “eh, is a 3rd person really going to help or just sort of get in the way?”
But perhaps we should’ve taken help! Were we being to stubborn, or not doing a good enough job at seeing the big picture, or watching the clock/realizing how close the race was to starting? Only after the the volunteer coordinator moved on did I start to become a bit worried we weren’t going to get to everyone…
I sped up and eventually did end up scrapping the shake-the-can dance. (Sorry girls.) We finished up with the last girl just in time to get everyone on the course before the race started. We also were using our very last bottle when that happened.
So, ultimately, even though things were a little rushed at the end, it was pretty cool how the color and time wrapped out perfectly.
It was an incredibly fun station. Parents got into it. Siblings got into it. I sprayed the hair of people of all ages, and everyone loved it just the same no matter their age.
I learned that I was the absolute perfect person to do this station after my Happy Hair partner said the hardest part about the day was smelling all the chemicals for 2 hours. It didn’t even dawn on me that the smell was probably bothersome until he said something as we were packing up. Crazy. Anosmia up in the house! (I can’t really smell.)
It was a total pleasure to volunteer with Girls on the Run. While there were things I mentioned that I’d hope to do better next time, I think it was a pretty magical time. I hope the runners and parents felt the same way!
We were talking about how I’m trying to use people’s names more often.
Unfortunately, I’d say that I’d grade myself at about a D on that skill this day! I usually said their name when I asked what color they wanted. But I always forgot to say it at the end of “have a great race!”
Sure, we can give excuses all day long. “Oh, the line was just moving so fast!” So, what? because the line was moving fast, there wasn’t one extra second to put a girl’s name on a sentence? Was I really all that flustered or hurried that I couldn’t say one extra word? Aye, aye, aye Aurora.
So, it was good practice, but not great results.
When it was time for the actual spraying of the hair, depending on if I thought we could hear each other, I’d ask how her training went and if it was her first race. I tried to always mention that what she’s doing is amazing and I hope she’s proud of herself and enjoys herself out on that course!
As time went on, I started to wonder if the whole trying to learn names thing and always doing the shake the can dance were wastes of times…
I mean, it’s never a waste to try to learn someone’s name. But if I was failing at using it as much as I wanted, why was I wasting the little girl’s time by asking her?
And at the beginning, we had to shake up the cans, so the shake the can dance made sense. But once we started spraying girl after girl in rapid succession, the cans were sufficiently shaken. But at that point I kind of had my routine. And it seemed like the girls enjoyed the little shake the can dance.
So, I didn’t stop the routine. I didn’t want anyone getting up there saying, “why didn’t I get to shake it?!” But I did wonder if I made the routine not as time-friendly as it should’ve been, ’cause we started to get a little slammed… It started to seem as though the line of girls was unending. And they had a race to get through! Gah!
Will we get to everyone? Let’s finish it out tomorrow!
I took a deep breath, decided to partake in the fun-ness of it all, put on a thick pink tutu (really it was two tutus worn together) and made my way to Griffith Park.
We got a tub of hair supplies, and I started setting all the cans on the table. At first it sort of seemed like a lot of cans. I wondered if we really needed to get them all out, but since we had ample space, why not?
I learned later that yes, we definitely needed them all out. We only took those seal stickers off about 1/3 of them at the beginning. I wanted to save any we didn’t use. But we totally used them all. Note to self: I shall prep that way, should I ever do this event again.
The line moves *so* fast once it all gets going that you want to be prepared as possible before you start spraying. There’s no time for sticker removing in the middle!
Once all the bottles were out of the tub, I thought it wasn’t cool to have them just strewn about the station, so I arranged them in a heart. (Yes, I know that speaks to being girly, and for someone who wrote yesterday’s post you might say, “really? a heart?” But what can I say? It’s me and I wanted to do it!)
The hair station was quite straightforward. I read the directions on the spray cans, and stood ready to spray some hair!
At first it was just one girl who came over. But before you knew it, the line was crazy! Both me and my happy hair partner at the station got into kind of our own rhythms.
I usually tried to ask for the girl’s name, then ask what color she wanted (mentioning her name in the question). Then I’d have us both do a little shake-the-can-dance. I’d spray her hair however she wanted (multiple colors, just the ponytail, etc.).
I am really trying to get better at calling people by their names more often. I think it shows a genuine interest in someone and helps to make someone feel special. I like to make people feel good, so that’s definitely a skill I’m working on.
And I tried to work on it that day… But did it pan out? Let’s talk about it tomorrow.
I adore Girls on the Run. I know I’ve mentioned it before, but it’s so true.
You can read all about who Girls on the Run is, and what they do, on their website. But basically, they empower and encourage young girls. So, when I saw they needed help with a 5k, I absolutely had to make it one of my 52 volunteer activities for the year!
When we got to check off what area we’d like to work in, I was a bit hesitant about working in the Happy Hair Station. I thought, “here I am trying to empower girls and show them they can be strong and awesome. They can be anything they want! Now how do I show that? Oh right, I do their hair!” [Wah wah]
Does that go against what we’re trying to do here? Or is it all just innocent fun? I feel like a pretty empowered woman who’s overall pretty confident – at least when it comes to what I can accomplish in this world, and what I push myself to go after. But I love being called adorable! And I like putting my hair in pigtails and wearing pink and all that jazz.
And there’s nothing wrong with that, right? Or is there? Have I just been programmed by society to think I like this stuff, but if I’d had different impressions from the media, would I have a different sense of what I like?
Maybe that doesn’t matter so much. Because perhaps the point is, if I like a style I like it and it’s not even necessary to ask “should I?”
When I brought up my bit of hesitation about whether this hair station undermined empowerment, he fought on the side of “sometimes things are just fun.” And “kids are kids.” And “I’m sure if little boys were they, they’d want colored, fun hair. Perhaps they’d want mohawks. They’d definitely be into a funky hair station as well.”
And truly, I think he was right. We actually did have some little boys coming by. In fact, I did make a mohawk pink for a little boy who requested that!
I think it’s beyond wonderful that there’s an organization encouraging girls to get out there and get athletic. So, if we need to make athletics fun by spraying hair, dressing up, and being silly – then that’s what we’ll do.
I chose to work at the happy hair station because I thought it would be fun! Even if I didn’t know if I should be “allowed” to think it was fun, I thought it would be. And I knew there was no other place I’d get this unique volunteer opportunity. So, I signed up. And I’ll talk all about it tomorrow.
The people who worked alongside me were Mike and Kyle – co-founders of Home Hero. It sounded like a super passion project to help families find safe, awesome, and affordable home care for seniors.
So, this event was totally their jam – right up their alley about a cause/demographic they care a whole lot about. And they were great with Apple products. So it was nice to have these super knowledgeable partners to work off of.
We were all warned before the technology fair that the people we’d be teaching might barely know anything at all about their devices. But in my experience, people were actually pretty darn skilled, and they were pretty familiar with their devices.
Their questions were for the most part very specific. One thing I thought was interesting was that every person I helped had questions related to connecting with others – “How can I FaceTime my granddaughter?” “How can I make a slideshow with music for my husband’s birthday?” – and other things like that.
I feel like most of the technology questions in my life have been a long the lines of “what’s the best blogging platform to use?” (Btw, in my opinion, it’s wordpress.) “How do I do this or that in html so I can make this site look better?” (“How can I get the sounds on my computer to be Michael Jackson themed?” :-P)
But I didn’t hear questions that revolved around building their brands or doing novelty things for the fun of it – just questions on how to stay more connected to family… which was perhaps one of the main things technology was made for in the first place?
I also liked how nice everyone was. Some of our “students” kept telling me and the guys I work with, “You’re so adorable! You’re so smart and helpful!” And the compliments just kept coming – which of course was pretty rad. Who doesn’t want to be adorable, smart, and liked? Some of my dreams in life are just to embody those adjectives!
It was a lovely day. I had a wonderful time, and I hope the information I tried to give to people proves useful to them!
First off, I think the volunteers were thought about and cared about more than any other event I’ve been to thus far.
Now, of course, we’re there to help others. So we don’t necessarily need to be treated like pretty, pretty princesses or anything. However, it amped up my warm, fuzzy feelings about being there even more so when I felt so taken care of and appreciated.
The flow of the day was clear. They gave us sheets with tips on coaching and such. They tried to make sure we were informed and prepared for the day.
There was a little pow wow in the morning in a small auditorium to make sure we were all on the same page and everything and all that jazz.
And there was a raffle in the morning! We got raffle tickets when we checked in as volunteers… and I won something! I got $10 in iTunes money now. Woo.
After the morning meeting in the auditorium, we went up to our stations. Naturally, I was at the Apple Gadgets station. (*in Homer Simpson voice* Mmmm, Apple Products)
(I’m in that crowd… to your left) (Photo Credit: Shams Soomer)
We were actually seated across from the Android station. So, I felt we had a nice little Jets and Sharks rivalry going on. (I won’t even waste space here talking about which products totally win in a fight, because… come on now.)
Going back to how taken care of we were (even though it skips things chronologically), there were carrots available in the free (yay!) lunch we were provided!
I’ve been to so many places that give chips, cookies, sugar-filled things and the like. And I know you know – since I mention it way too often that I’m trying to watch my weight – that I’m sometimes sort of tempted, and it’s sometimes sort of hard for me to have all this junk food available at all these events.
(Though I will say that sometimes when the food is quite delicious (such as at the Grilled Cheese Truck), I throw caution to the wind. I don’t mind spending some calories on something sort of exotic-ish that I only have once in a great while… but how often can I have random store cookies, right? I know, I know. Be thankful for any free food. But let’s all look out for each other?… Aaaaaand I’m getting way off subject.)
The point is, they had carrots, they had wraps of normal proportions, and they had veggie options! And, they even had cookies for the people who don’t feel the way I do about this food.
So, high fives all around to the people organizing this fair, ’cause that was truly awesome.
So, there was nothing to do. I’m not usually a huge believer in “there’s nothing to do,” because there’s always something to do, right?
But sometimes there just isn’t anything that any of the people running the joint can think of at the moment.
I work in TV. So, I’m used to hurry up and wait, but this was going to literally be what we did ’til the end of our shift. So, if there’s no hurry up part, then what am I waiting for?
They did say in the little volunteer talk at the beginning of the night that if we wanted to stay after our shift, we could work the (non-silent) auction. It sounded really fun, but it was hard to justify staying for hours to help with something that really they’re probably already staffed for.
They did mention that last year it was a rush with too few people when it came to volunteering for the auction, apparently because the auction happened right on a shift change… And they said this year they didn’t think they adjusted the shifts.
But why, when you have so many people didn’t you ask for some of us to be a swing between the two shifts, instead of coming into the first one?
So, I went to the little hang out room for staff/volunteers, because originally my plan was to stay until the auction happened. After all, I love helping out with things where there’s a rush or where you’re understaffed and have to work overtime.
But judging by the amount of people they had, plus the people who were coming in 2nd shift (and it seemed that they were pretty much saying the main job of the second shifters was to work the auction), they’d be more than okay.
And as I started to kill my time reading a magazine, I thought about all the stuff I could be doing and all the sleep I could be having and I decided it just wasn’t worth it to stay. So, since they didn’t need me, I left.
I also had the worst time getting home because I kept having to switch sides of the street because first there was a dog not on a leash, then there was a different dog on the other side of the street. And there was this tall long fence along the medium. So crossing the street was a whole ordeal. I went back and forth for 3 rounds before I could finally walk to the bus stop.
It was like some horrible, cruel, exhausting game – and I was way more frustrated and cranky about it than even I would normally be (which is already an insanely high level when it comes to dogs). And that just really drove the point home for me that I needed sleep… ’cause when I don’t get my precious, precious sleep I can get a bit cranky… (At least I can recognize that. So perhaps that’s something.)
So there you have it. The volunteer event that wasn’t really. Wah wah.
I really thought that in this project, there would be no numbers that were A & B.
There wouldn’t be any events that were only half done because it wasn’t like I was going to get lost on a course or something. It would happen, or it wouldn’t. But alas, here we are at 24a.
So, what is S.T.A.G.E.? It stands for the Southland Theatre Artists Goodwill Event, and it’s billed as the world’s longest running musical theater AIDS benefit.
This was a group I was pretty excited to work with. I will admit before going that I had stretched myself perhaps a bit too thin, and I was pretty tired and felt I still had a lot to do over the weekend. But, I’d made a commitment. I wasn’t so tired or busy that I couldn’t handle it. So, I got my attitude in check and made my way to Beverly Hills.
When I got there, I saw a big group of people from an organization called One Brick. Apparently it’s an organization that gets people together who want to volunteer for things. I think it’s supposed to be a way to meet people while volunteering for stuff. I don’t totally understands what differentiates them from Meetup or Volunteermatch.org. But I like learning about things I’ve never heard of, so that was cool.
Once we got there, they told us we’d all be working the silent auction. We stood around for a bit waiting to see where we’d all be assigned. Then someone started walking around assigning people to tables. This was the most attendant-full silent auction I’ve ever seen.
Granted, I have not been to very many silent auctions in my life (just the two I’ve volunteered with this year and one with a friend from America’s Got Talent who was being honored at a charity.)
But they were certainly fully (more than fully) staffed with volunteers. There were 2 – 3 volunteers for every table of stuff. And there were still volunteers left over!
And that was it. That was all there was to do – work the silent auction tables. They didn’t really know what to do with the rest of us. They said we could float around in case anyone needed help. I did that for a bit, but quickly saw that no one was going to need help. And if they did, since there were multiple people per table, one of the extra people could always leave to go do whatever was needed.
There was a little girl in our reading group who seemed so nice, but I could tell she was really shy. Once we got to craft time, I went and sat by her to see if I could get her to talk more.
We had 4 boys and 1 girl in our group. And every time my reading partners or I asked a question as we read through the books, the boys were all excited about answering right away. But our girl was quiet.
Obviously, that’s never a dynamic I like to see. (I read Lean In, baby!) (But I do believe I would’ve also tried to look after a shy boy. I’m not trying to favor women, just to make people in general feel they deserve to be heard…)
So, in craft time, I went and sat by our girl and started talking to her about school and everything. She was extremely smart and curious about the world. She was wildly well-spoken, and very aware of what was going on in the world around her. Plus she was really open. She told me about how her teachers had conferences with her parents about speaking up more.
I loved that the teachers were looking out for her, and apparently her parents were too, to pass on that information to her. And we talked about her feeling afraid of speaking out. After all, what if she had an answer wrong to a question? (dum, dum, dum *scary chords!*)
I said a lot of the stuff that we hear already all the time on the internet, so who knows if maybe it’s too old hat by now. But, I talked about how some of the most successful people made huge mistakes. I also talked about how if you’re never wrong, then you’re not pushing yourself. Aren’t you in school to learn? So, you can’t possibly know everything already!
I also went through some scenarios with her – “What is the very worst thing that could happen if you answer a question and it’s wrong?” She answered people would laugh at her. “Mmm hmm. And then what?”
We talked about how being laughed at (while quite embarrassing) isn’t the worst thing in the world. We talked about trying to laugh with people instead of allowing them to feel like they’re laughing at you – you get to decide if you’re going to join along.
We even drew a picture of fear holding someone back. We drew a little world and things we knew and were exposed to. Then there was a wall. The wall was fear. Beyond the wall were rocket ships and things we’d never heard of. And we could see all the things we missed out on if we put up a wall of fear.
(If I do say so myself, this was a pretty good on-the-fly picture-making lesson I was doing.)
She got pretty into it and drew a picture of herself with a thought bubble of things she wanted to learn about, but never could if she were too afraid to push herself.
I hope I maybe helped a little, but no matter what, she helped me.
I don’t generally operate under a lot of fear, but every once in a while I still feel it. And now, when I do, I’m gonna think about the picture of that wall and all the stuff I’m keeping myself from if I build my own wall.
So, as I said, I was working with 5th graders. The books were picked by the organization, and we were reading The Odyssey.
One thing I thought was cool was that there was a theme that went across all grade levels. This day’s was folklore and fantasy. But it was cool to me that there was a cohesive umbrella, even though it was segmented between grade levels.
Usually, when I volunteer for things, it’s not so bad when I go alone. Sure, I’ve noticed that a lot of times people come with people or with groups – whether it be people from their job, church, hobby group, meetup group, or wherever else they might find people.
And sometimes, depending where I am, I might feel like I’m the only person not from UCLA or One Brick or whatever. But it hasn’t bothered me too much. And today, it didn’t bother me all that much more. But I will say, of all the volunteer activities that would be better with a friend – this would be the top of my list so far.
You’re paired up with people and the pair of you take a group of kids to a classroom to read to them. (We actually had 3 in our group since there were enough volunteers to justify that.)
So, we went in and each of us took a chapter. I absolutely adore that really over-the-top excitable delivery. So, reading to kids is right up my alley. I really enjoyed doing it.
There was one child who seemed really into books. He knew a lot about a lot of books… However, when it got to craft time and the kids were to draw their own ideas of monsters, he just sort of put aside the craft supplies and went for the book.
Now, I love the idea of kids loving to read. Reading is grand, and I understand it’s why I was there. But he mentioned that he didn’t think he was very good at crafts. And I’d never want someone squelching his creative side because he’s afraid he’s not “good” at it – especially since there basically are no rights and wrongs in creative projects.
So, I really tried to encourage him to draw a monster. It was a little bit like pulling teeth, but we did get him to draw at least a little by the end of the day.
There was also this incredible girl who I can’t wait to tell you about tomorrow.
I would say this is one of the absolute easiest events I’ve been to.
Reading to Kids makes the scheduling wildly easy. Instead of emailing with a person, you just go through an automated system. You’re confirmed right away, and there’s a little page that tells you everything you need to know about the book you’ll be reading, where to go, and all that jazz.
Also, since it’s automated, if you can’t go, it’s wildly easy to cancel. So, I could see how the extreme ease could work against them a bit… but I highly doubt that the people they lose (due to people not feeling guilty about telling another human they’re no longer gonna go) outweighs the time the save by not having to manually coordinate so many people through emails and such.
So, good on them for streamlining the process and making everything as simple as it can be.
As far as the event itself, it was pretty easy and chill. They had a nice spread of bagels and pastries. As I’ve mentioned along the way, many of these volunteer events have spreads of foods that aren’t that great for you. Please don’t get me wrong, I appreciate that they want to give us anything at all, but it does make it hard sometimes when you’re working as hard as I am to do all that calorie counting and such.
But, I guess it’s nice to have to turn down food in the real world because that’s part of trying to lose weight and such. Food is around sometimes. You have to deal with it. And I dealt with it by not indulging today. So, yay me!
The tables were organized by grade level. I was with 5th grade. My understanding has come to be that if you don’t specify a grade level preference, you’re put with the older kids. It seems to be that anyone who requests, requests kids who are younger (probably since that’s more “adorable” or whatever.
But of course, we all know how weird I am about age and that we put too much emphasis on youth (even apparently when just deciding which kids we’re going to read to). So, I was happy to work with the 5th graders.
Getting back to the day, after you get in, new readers have a little orientation. Basically, they just read a book to us in the kind of fun, over-the-top manner in which we were to read books.
They also reiterated the papers about how the day would go – reading followed by craft time. And they told us small things I wouldn’t have thought about such as make sure people only go to the bathroom in pairs.
So, as I said, I was the ticket taker, which was really pretty dope. I got to watch people make ice cream all day. I got to see the joy and wonder on people’s faces over and over again with each new batch of people.
Plus, the people working in the booth were funny and interesting. So it was a pretty spectacular day, I’d say.
It was also fun because taking tickets wasn’t this really simple thing of an orderly line where people come up one at a time and I just simply take the tickets. Different bowls are going in different places by different people.
So, I’m trying to get all the people getting salted caramel in front of the bowl making salted caramel, and all the vanilla people in front of the other bowl. But it also wasn’t as simple as just “let’s make four lines, one for each flavor – and everyone will fill in those four for the rest of the day,” because well,
a) we didn’t have enough room for four lines
b) we had to move and adjust along with the day. Sometimes we’d go a long time where one no one ordered a certain flavor. So, it wasn’t like we could say, “Okay, Josephine will always be doing cookies and cream and salted caramel.” Because then if two different people come up – one asking for chocolate and one for vanilla, even if we had assigned those as Ben’s flavor, you better bet Josephine would’ve needed to start making one of those so we could keep the day moving.
So, I found it to be pretty fun to try to always keep it straight,
“okay which bowls are which people making right now?”
“As soon as they’re done, what flavor do I need to tell them to start on? Etc. etc.”
On the periods where we got slammed, my brain was working hard and I loved that. I always love anything where I have to think and focus and all that fun jazz.
So, it was a lovely, wonderful day. And I was a bit sad when it was done. Also, I hope I am tasked with planning an amazing party because I definitely know what dessert place I will be hiring. Yum!
So, you might be wondering, as I mentioned in my first post, why we were taking tickets and no one else was.
Well, here’s the thing. Super Cool Creamery is still a start-up (an amazing, awesome start-up). So unfortunately, they don’t have a charity budget for now since there’s not extra money rolling around for that quite yet.
These huge corporations (such as Panda Express and more) could afford to come give away a bunch of food in exchange for promotion. Super Cool Creamery doesn’t even have a store front yet. Right now they only do parties. So I’d think it’s somewhat hard to do promotional exchanges since the group they’d be promoting to is pretty specific. (It’s just people who are going to throw some type of party.)
So, Super Cool Creamery had to be paid to be there. There wasn’t much of a way around it. So, the Art Walk wanted to try to make their money back on hiring Super Cool Creamery, meaning they charged tickets for the ice cream.
You might be wondering, “Well, why is this huge art walk, that’s getting all these heavy hitters for free, spending money on getting a start-up in there?” I think the main answer to that is that Super Cool Creamery’s first year happened to also be the art walk’s first year. So, it worked in the beginning when the art walk wasn’t getting huge sponsors.
And now that Art in the Afternoon has grown exponentially in, I think, only 3 short years, they’re not cutting out Super Cool Creamery probably for a number of reasons… You don’t want to cut out the people who started with you at the very beginning of whatever you’re doing. Also, do you want to cut out that super cool and amazing party-trick food booth?
And then Super Cool Creamery still wants to do it because I think they believe in the organization A Window Between Worlds, and of course they love making ice cream.
So, I see why Super Cool Creamery is invited back, and why they decide to come back. (But it is rough when all day long people keep saying, “what? I have to give you tickets?”… Though I will say, even though people were surprised, they didn’t necessarily seem to mind all that much.)
All I know is I’m so glad Super Cool Creamery was there, and that I got to learn about this amazing place. If I ever throw a party, I know who I’m calling!
(And I have a bit more to say about the art walk tomorrow.
