Mick Jagger was right. You can't always get what you want

I agree with Mick Jagger of the Rolling Stones on one thing: "You can't always get what you want."

This morning I was supposed to be landing at Boston Logan International Airport to meet my sisters, Becky and Judy, to join them for a much-anticipated sisters' vacation. But Mick was right.

My original flight was scheduled for September 12. But a week before my flight, I got quite sick with COVID, so I changed my flight and my vacation request at work. The sisters' vacay was a two-week trip. Instead of joining my sisters during the first week, I'd join them for the second week. I could hardly wait to see my sisters and spend time with them seeing historic Boston, including a hop-on-hop-off bus tour of the Freedom Trail. So much history! So many historic buildings! And many delicious meals and sister chats. I couldn't wait to spend time with both sisters, a rare treat. We'd planned the trip to celebrate Becky's retirement from teaching and both sister's birthdays. (My sisters share the same birthday. No, they are not twins. They are six years apart. I'm the middle sister.)

After Boston, we were going to see Cape Cod and Martha's Vineyard. We'd rented a cute Airbnb cottage near the beach at Mashpee on the Cape. Although I was disappointed to have to change my plans, I rested and counted the days until my new flight. Would I be COVID free and feel well enough to travel?

Last Friday, Day 12 of COVID, I finally tested negative! I was still exhausted, but my flight was leaving on Monday. I hadn't had the energy to do laundry in two weeks. I had to do my laundry so I could pack for my trip. Plus, I was wearing my last pair of clean underwear!

So I hauled a mountain of laundry to my sis Becky's house 25 miles away. It was a mistake. I pushed myself too hard physically. I missed a step on the walkway. I didn't fall, but my body was propelled forward and I landed--hard--on my right foot. 

 

I injured my back. I hobbled through the laundry task, my pain increasing with each step. Each movement. Hours later, driving the 30 minutes home was agony. I did my childbirth breathing to focus on the road and ease the pain. Arriving home after dark, I gingerly carried the lightest laundry basket with my clean pajamas and underwear into my apartment. Immediately I changed into pajamas and fell into bed. 

Over the weekend, I consulted by phone with my cousin, Donette, an experienced physical therapy assistant. She wondered if I'd injured my sacroiliac joint (or SI joint). The SI joint is the joint between the sacrum and the ilium bones of the pelvis, which are connected by strong ligaments. The sacrum supports the spine and is supported in turn by an ilium on each side. The joint is strong, supporting the entire weight of the upper body. At my cousin's advice, I spent all weekend lying flat in bed, alternating between ice and heat. Iboprefen. And rest. Monday morning, I made my first-ever chiropractic appointment. He confirmed that indeed, I'd injured my SI joint. He took x-rays. Thankfully, no broken bones. But my hard landing on my right foot had caused injury all along my right leg--from my calf, my knee, my pelvis, my hip and even my neck.

So instead of enjoying a Boston-Cape Cod vacation with my sisters, I'm lying flat, alternating ice and heat, and going to more chiropractic sessions. And I'm Zooming for work while flat on my back. And my camera off.

Mick, you were right! First COVID and now this! Definitely not what I wanted. 

I've lived long enough to realize that I can't change what happens to me. The only thing I can control is my attitude about what happens to me. So even in this, I'm embracing an attitude of gratitude. 

• No broken bones. 
• No surgery. 
• I'm COVID negative. 
• And I'll enjoy another sister trip sometime soon.

For those Stones fans, here's Mick singing my anthem.

Back on the dragon boat: The return of the Mighty Woman!

The Mighty Women on the Willamette River.
I'm in the back of the boat, port (left) side  and waving my paddle
with my bench partner, Joan Sanford, who encouraged me with every stroke.

This morning, I became a Mighty Woman again.

Seven months after crushing both my wrists in an ATV accident, I climbed back into a dragon boat with my team mates and paddled the Willamette River on a sunny Saturday morning. It felt glorious. Empowering. The river sparkled. I am quite sure I was glowing. And it felt as if I'd come full circle.

The last time I paddled a dragon boat was a Thursday night, Sept. 3. That night our paddling practice seemed magical. It happened to be the night of the Oregon Symphony's annual Waterfront Concert at Tom McCall Waterfront Park overlooking the Willamette River. So as Coach Jeanie Zinn led us through grueling race starts to prepare for races just a week away, we were serenaded by the symphony playing Mozart and Bach and had an audience of almost 20,000 spectators.

After our practice, I had lingered at the park so I could enjoy a free classical concert under the stars. Gripping my paddle, I ordered a slice of pizza from a vendor and struck up a conversation with a couple visiting from Australia. They asked many questions about dragon boating. I told them the sport had changed my life--and that I was a Mighty Woman. I saw the way they looked at me--as if I was a strong, adventurous woman. It was a night I'll always remember.

Less than 48 hours later, I was flying over an ATV's handlebars, somersaulting through the air and slamming to the ground. I recall gingerly sitting up and noticing the ATV had crashed just a foot from my body. And then I felt pain. That's also a day I'll never forget.

In the days, weeks and months that followed my accident, I did not feel strong, adventurous, or mighty. With both arms in casts and unable to do much of anything for myself, I felt people looking at me, sizing up my broken body, and feeling pity for me. But with grit and the help of many family members, friends, and medical professionals, I healed.

A few days ago, I went to my last physical therapy appointment. Carol, my therapist, had cheered me on for months. I had brought my paddle to my last session so that she could see the movement of my body when I held my paddle. She hugged me.

"I release you from therapy," she said. "But keep doing your exercises on your own. And please be careful in the dragon boat. Don't push yourself. If it hurts, stop."

When I told my newsroom colleagues I was going to try dragon boating again, many looked concerned. "Be careful," several people told me. "Don't push yourself."

I texted my coach and told her I planned to join the team on the boat Saturday morning, but I was concerned that I may not have the strength to hold onto my paddle to keep up with the team. She was excited I was coming back to the boat.

"Just do your best. Paddle ten strokes and rest ten strokes," she advised me.

I met my friend, Patty for dinner and told her the good news that I'd had my last therapy appointment. That first week after my accident when I needed so much help, Patty had been my caregiver. During the four months I couldn't drive, she drove me to countless doctor appointments and cheered me on.

When I told her I was going to try paddling the next morning, she again cheered me on: "Go, Mighty Woman!"

I smiled. And I hoped I'd have the range of motion and strength to paddle again. I really missed being a Mighty Woman.

Last night I was so excited that I placed my paddle and life jacket by my front door. This morning I awoke early. Too excited to stay in bed any longer, I ate breakfast and dressed quickly in my paddling clothes.

Before I left for practice, I texted the Mountain Man: "Excited but nervous about getting on dragon boat."

Knowing how competitive I am, he texted back: "You can do this. Just go as far as you think you should. Don't let competition or peer pressure make you go too far."

When I arrived at the waterfront, I was greeted with cheers, hugs, and smiles from my team mates. We did our warm-up exercises, then walked down to the dock, and climbed into the boat.

Coach Jeanie placed me on bench ten, the rear bench, with Joan, who also is recovering from an injury and surgery. Both Jeanie and Joan encouraged me to pay attention to what my body was telling me.

Would it hurt? Would I injure myself? Would I fail miserably and have to give up dragon boat paddling and the camaraderie of the Mighty Women? I hoped not. That thought has hounded me all these months as I've been doing physical therapy and recovering.

My first stroke was tentative--and wimpy. At first, I did paddle ten strokes, rest ten, and then paddle ten more. But toward the end of practice, as we raced from under the Marquam Bridge and back to the dock, I paddled with each stroke with every ounce of strength I had left. I did it!

The sun was shining as we pulled up to the dock. I was sitting on starboard side, so grabbed the dock while Shane, our tiller, secured our boat. The dock was busy with activity. Many paddlers from other teams were finding their way to their dragon boats.

A man holding the hand of a very tiny preschool girl walked slowly past us. I looked at them, smiled, and said: "You should come paddle with us sometime. We're the Mighty Women!"

The little girl smiled shyly at me. I grinned back.

The morning was golden. I am a Mighty Woman again. And I'm still smiling.

Keeping a positive attitude even in hard times

My two broken wrists have slowed me down temporarily, but I have so many reasons to be grateful.

Over Labor Day weekend, I was having a blast riding four-wheelers with the Mountain Man until I flew over the handlebars, somersaulted through the air, and crashed to the ground. I crushed both of my wrists. Eventually, I required surgery in both wrists to install permanent titanium plates and screws to repair my shattered bones. Now I am the bionic woman.

Sometimes bad things happen. That's life. What I've learned in the past seven weeks since my accident is the importance in keeping a positive attitude. It's vital in my healing process and in keeping my spirits up.

Since the beginning of the year, I've written in my gratitude journal. Every morning, I write at least three reasons to be grateful. For five weeks after the accident, I couldn't hold a pen. I couldn't write at all. That was devastating. I am a writer, a newspaper reporter, a storyteller, and a long-time journaler. Writing my thoughts is how I make sense of the world. Not only could I not hold a pen, but I couldn't type either.

Although I still have a cast on my left hand, now I can type with my right hand. My one-handed typing combined with voice recognition software has allowed me to start typing again--albeit very slowly, Even sweeter, I can grip a pen in my right hand for short periods of time. I'm writing in my gratitude journal again. Yes!

Here are some of my reasons I am grateful:

1. I am alive, and with physical therapy, I am improving daily. I could have been paralyzed or killed.

2. It's true that I've hung up my dragon boat paddle until spring and likely will not be recovered enough to ski this winter, but I'll be back. I am not going to let my accident stop me from having future adventures.

3. Seven weeks ago, I could not turn a door knob. Now I can twist a doorknob without pain. I am no longer trapped and can stay at home without a caretaker.

4. After the accident, I couldn't lift a coffee cup or glass. I had to lean over the cup on the table and drink with a straw. This morning I made my own coffee and lifted a ceramic mug to my lips. No more straws!

5. For a few weeks after the accident, I could not hold silverware. I had the table manners of a Neanderthal. This week I cut steak with my knife. Last night with the Mountain Man I ate sushi with chopsticks! I was messy, but I wasn't thrown out of the restaurant for spilling a little rice.

6. During the first week after the accident, both arms had casts that reached clear up my hands and allowed only an inch of fingertips free. In the bathroom, I had to tear off toilet paper with my teeth. Now although I still have a cast on my left hand, my right hand is in a removable splint. Now I am fully operational in the bathroom. Enough said!

7. For six weeks, I couldn't wash my hair myself, but had to rely on friends, my daughter and my mom to wash it in the sink. Last week, I washed my hair all by myself!

8. For the first several weeks, I didn't have the stamina to stand in the shower. Instead, my caregiver wrapped both my arms in plastic bags and I took baths, but I needed help turning the water on and off and pulling the plug. Since last week, I've been taking a shower. And I can turn the water on and off all by myself.

9. For about a month, I couldn't open or close a car door or buckle my seat belt. Now I can do those things. However, it will still be some weeks before I am cleared to drive. I miss driving.

10. For about a month, I needed help getting dressed. Now I can dress myself, but I am living in elastic-waist exercise pants and free-flowing hippie skirts with leggings. I still can't manipulate zippers or buttons. I am looking forward to wearing jeans again.

11. Until recently, I needed lots of help preparing meals, opening food containers, and washing the dishes. Now I am doing my own simple cooking and can even wash dishes--while wearing my plastic bag over my cast.

12. I am grateful for the long list of family, friends and co-workers who have pitched in to help me through these weeks of healing.

Tomorrow I begin my eighth week of being on short-term disability from work. I am hopeful that my doctor will clear me to return to work soon.

Each day is a gift to be cherished and lived to the fullest. I know that now more than ever. What would you write in your gratitude journal?

Life's little setbacks

This morning, my dragon boating teammates are driving to Vancouver, British Columbia, taking a ferry to Nanaimo on Vancouver Island. They will be paddling in the Nanaimo Dragon Boat Festival this weekend. They'll be staying in the Painted Turtle Guesthouse, a renovated heritage hostel near the waterfront in quaint, downtown Nanaimo.

They'll be hosted by a friendly, fun-loving Canadian dragon boat team. There will be music, dancing and merriment after the races.

For months, I've been anticipating this mini-vacation to Nanaimo. Despite its relative proximity to home, I've never been to Vancouver Island. But alas! It wasn't meant to be.

Although my teammates have left, I am lying on my couch icing my leg and nursing an injured hamstring. Disappointment does not begin to convey my feelings.

But that's life, isn't it? As Mick Jagger and the Stones said, you don't always get what you want. In fact, we often get the opposite of what we wanted.

Was I injured dragon boating?  Skating in roller derby? Backpacking? Kayaking? Running a marathon? Running with the bulls? Sadly, no.

I wish I had an amazing, adventurous story about my injury, but here's the truth: I was climbing up onto the running board of a very, very, very high pickup truck. It was a long stretch for my short hobbit legs. Immediately, I knew I'd pulled something. I've been icing my hamstring and hobbling around like an old lady ever since.

Through the trials and tribulations of the past five years, I've learned a thing or two. First, life rarely happens exactly as we plan it. Second, the secret to living joyfully is learning to go with the flow and to appreciate the simple things when the current takes you someplace unexpected.

This weekend my unexpected adventure will be relaxing, icing my hamstring, reading a good book and savoring the juicy blackberries outside my front door.

And even from my couch, I'll be cheering for the Mighty Women as they paddle in Nanaimo.

Go Fearlessly into Turbulent Water

After only two weeks of paddling on the Mighty Women dragon boat team, I bore my first visible injury. I say "visible" because I already had experienced painfully sore shoulder and back muscles.

But last week an enormous purple-greenish goose egg sprang forth on the back of my right hand. I do not even recall how it happened, but I must have whacked my hand on the side of the boat while I was paddling.

I readily admit that I am a klutz. Sometimes, for no apparent reason, I lose my balance, fall down or whack an appendage on a hard surface. My bruises have bruises. But my klutziness does not prevent me from forging ahead into turbulent water, even though I may capsize and be injured. What would be the fun in just sitting on the shore watching everyone else having amazing experiences?

Recently more than one friend has described me with adjectives that are new for me: courageous, adventurous, brave and even fearless. I laughed off these declarations. Believe me, I'm no super woman. My bruises bear witness to my vulnerability.

True, in the past two years, I've faced a series of tough obstacles that at one point seemed insurmountable. Eventually, I did clear the obstacles, but I won't pretend it was easy.

The lesson I learned and would like to pass on is this: life is filled with obstacles. If you haven't yet faced turbulent waters, hold on. You will. At one time or another, we all will be plunged into a raging river with dangerous undertows and hidden debris waiting to smack us alongside the head.

The trick is to develop coping skills so that when we face a challenging course ahead, we have the tools and experience--and yes--courage--to paddle through the difficult challenges without losing our cool, overturning the boat or worse, giving up and wading to the shore.

Proudly display your bruises. They bear witness that you have plunged fearlessly through turbulent waters and have arrived safely to a calm pool, where you can catch your breath and savor life before the next rapid.

Paddle on!