You have put Team Golden Colon OVER goal! Thanks to everyone for all your support--we could not have done it without you. Thanks to all who encouraged me to tell me story and told me you were proud of my baby steps into advocacy. Thanks to all who gave hard-earned money for a cause that you might not have heard of before I started yammering away. YOU have helped make life a little bit better for 1.4 million Americans. This disease sucks, but thanks to all of you it will be a little less sucky.
Thank you all from the bottom of my heart. You have no idea how much this means to me.
And now I'm sorry, I have to go hide in the bathroom and pretend I didn't just make myself cry.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Friday, July 20, 2012
More Cowbell: A Race Memoir (of sorts)
It's hard to believe that a week ago I was bundled up for our arrival party at the hotel in Sonoma! Kansas City, with its multiple consecutive days of 100+ temps is definitely a far cry from Northern California. Maybe when I win the lottery (HA!) but until then I guess I just need to be thankful for air conditioning.
But you don't want to hear me complain about the weather. You're reading this to hear about our weekend in Napa. So I will oblige.
First, let me just be honest and say that it is less than ideal timing to go to wine country while knocked up. Yes it is gorgeous and all, but come on. Let's be honest here. Not being able to taste grown-up grape juice did put a damper on things. As did the fact that I couldn't run the race because of that stupid tendinitis. But once again, you didn't come here for me to complain. Now that I have gotten all that off my chest, I'll move on to the main event.
The whole weekend was really amazing. The 621 runners running Napa-to-Sonoma for Team Challenge raised $2.4 million for IBD research! And that was just one race--Team Challenge runners participate in multiple events each year.
On race day I camped out at the 7.5 mile marker with some other Team Challenge supporters. Wearing my finest orange and blue (oh I dislike those colors for football, but this is different!) I yelled and waved my signs and played my cowbell. Because cowbell makes everything go better. And who wouldn't be inspired to run faster by cowbell? Duh. But as I cheered I realized that the runners were really cheering and inspiring me. I kept getting so emotional each time I saw a Team Challenge runner because I know what a difference that efforts are making. Each orange singlet was one more person working to end IBD. And while most of those runners didn't know me or my story, they knew someone else like me who inspired them to give up their time and energy to work towards a cure. Because of them--and because of supporters like you, dear readers!--life is a little more enjoyable for the 1.4 million Americans living with IBD.
And as I ramble on, I'm realizing what a poor grasp I have of the English language, as I can't even begin to say what a big deal this weekend was for me. Team Challenge is an event where I'm "normal" and where people understand what I live with. Everyone there is touched by IBD in some way--we're one big, "crappy" family. (Oh trust me, the puns were in full force on the various t-shirts--anybody want to buy a bowel?) It's a place where everyone gets the tension between enjoying the good days when they come because of the ever present fear that tomorrow the disease is going to drastically change course.
Oh and the actual running part? Michael did great, although he did start out too fast. That's what happens when he doesn't have me as a running partner. Further proof that he needs me, if only to nag him to be smart while running. Feel free to insert your own jokes there about my brilliant running history.
So there you have it. My race recap. Again, THANK YOU to all of you for your support on this journey. We really couldn't have done it without you. And if you just kept forgetting to donate, you can still donate. Just click on the link to the right (cleverly labeled "Donate Now!") to make your tax- deductible gift to the Crohn's and Colitis Foundation of America. We have just a teensy bit left to meet our minimum and every bit makes a difference in the life of an IBD patient.
But you don't want to hear me complain about the weather. You're reading this to hear about our weekend in Napa. So I will oblige.
First, let me just be honest and say that it is less than ideal timing to go to wine country while knocked up. Yes it is gorgeous and all, but come on. Let's be honest here. Not being able to taste grown-up grape juice did put a damper on things. As did the fact that I couldn't run the race because of that stupid tendinitis. But once again, you didn't come here for me to complain. Now that I have gotten all that off my chest, I'll move on to the main event.
The whole weekend was really amazing. The 621 runners running Napa-to-Sonoma for Team Challenge raised $2.4 million for IBD research! And that was just one race--Team Challenge runners participate in multiple events each year.
On race day I camped out at the 7.5 mile marker with some other Team Challenge supporters. Wearing my finest orange and blue (oh I dislike those colors for football, but this is different!) I yelled and waved my signs and played my cowbell. Because cowbell makes everything go better. And who wouldn't be inspired to run faster by cowbell? Duh. But as I cheered I realized that the runners were really cheering and inspiring me. I kept getting so emotional each time I saw a Team Challenge runner because I know what a difference that efforts are making. Each orange singlet was one more person working to end IBD. And while most of those runners didn't know me or my story, they knew someone else like me who inspired them to give up their time and energy to work towards a cure. Because of them--and because of supporters like you, dear readers!--life is a little more enjoyable for the 1.4 million Americans living with IBD.
And as I ramble on, I'm realizing what a poor grasp I have of the English language, as I can't even begin to say what a big deal this weekend was for me. Team Challenge is an event where I'm "normal" and where people understand what I live with. Everyone there is touched by IBD in some way--we're one big, "crappy" family. (Oh trust me, the puns were in full force on the various t-shirts--anybody want to buy a bowel?) It's a place where everyone gets the tension between enjoying the good days when they come because of the ever present fear that tomorrow the disease is going to drastically change course.
Oh and the actual running part? Michael did great, although he did start out too fast. That's what happens when he doesn't have me as a running partner. Further proof that he needs me, if only to nag him to be smart while running. Feel free to insert your own jokes there about my brilliant running history.
So there you have it. My race recap. Again, THANK YOU to all of you for your support on this journey. We really couldn't have done it without you. And if you just kept forgetting to donate, you can still donate. Just click on the link to the right (cleverly labeled "Donate Now!") to make your tax- deductible gift to the Crohn's and Colitis Foundation of America. We have just a teensy bit left to meet our minimum and every bit makes a difference in the life of an IBD patient.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
How your donation to CCFA helps patients
I keep talking about how CCFA is a great organization, but I haven't really told you all what CCFA does to make daily life better for IBD patients. Obviously, it's easy to understand how research funding makes a difference. However, there are lots of other things CCFA does to educate patients, to make their lives better, and to give pediatric patients a "normal" camp experience. These all sound like little things, but when you are sick with an embarrassing disease, it is the little things that make life seem so much better.
So, now you know. And knowing is half the battle. The other half is clicking on the "Donate Now" link to the right, if you haven't already done so. We're really really close to our goal and are so incredibly grateful to all of you who have provided support along the way. For years I was too embarrassed and scared to tell my story. Thank you for helping me find my voice.
$30………Provides a one year membership for
someone in need
$50………Provides educational brochures to
375 patients
$100…Funds a month of Information Resource
Center translation services for all
patients
$300……Supports a Camp Oasis camper in need
for one day
$500……Covers six months of unlimited
online chat support with Patient Information Specialists
$1,000……Will open doors to over 20,000 patients
who receive our bathroom access card
$2,500……Sends a child with IBD to Camp Oasis
for one week
$5,000…Provides continuing education credit
to nurses attending our educational teleconferences
$10,000…...Supports the development of Patient
Education brochures
So, now you know. And knowing is half the battle. The other half is clicking on the "Donate Now" link to the right, if you haven't already done so. We're really really close to our goal and are so incredibly grateful to all of you who have provided support along the way. For years I was too embarrassed and scared to tell my story. Thank you for helping me find my voice.
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Stupid hormones
I used to be tough. I rarely cried, except in extreme circumstances. My stoicism would have made the Spartans proud.
And then I got pregnant.
Now I cry at every stupid little thing. Like this week, Michael and I were watching the Today show. They were talking about a town in Alaska that still had mountains of snow. So we were talking about how some towns needed supplies this winter which led to a discussion of the origins of the Iditarod Sled Dog Race. And I started crying at the thought of those babies who otherwise would have died if they hadn't gotten their medicine in the middle of that winter.
This is totally unacceptable. I get that baby is going to take my body from me, but does s/he really have to take my mind too? Hrmph.
And then I got pregnant.
Now I cry at every stupid little thing. Like this week, Michael and I were watching the Today show. They were talking about a town in Alaska that still had mountains of snow. So we were talking about how some towns needed supplies this winter which led to a discussion of the origins of the Iditarod Sled Dog Race. And I started crying at the thought of those babies who otherwise would have died if they hadn't gotten their medicine in the middle of that winter.
This is totally unacceptable. I get that baby is going to take my body from me, but does s/he really have to take my mind too? Hrmph.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Happy Birthday Title IX!
As always, I'm a bit late to the party. But hey, look at the last post. I've been slightly preoccupied lately.
Anyways, this country is celebrating the 40th anniversary of Title IX. And all those retrospectives on women in sports got me to thinking about how Title IX has impacted my life. Now I was never much an athlete. I played a couple of seasons of t-ball and enjoyed my summer swim league. I joined the cross-country and tennis teams in junior high, but didn't play any sports in high school since I was an oh-so-cool band geek. I did row for almost a year in college, but I was absolutely positively horrible. So yeah, not an athlete.
Even though I didn't directly benefit from Title IX through access to a soccer field or a basketball scholarship, this legislation has still played an indirect but important part in my life. Title IX made sports socially acceptable for women. It wasn't automatic, but over time it became "normal" to see girls playing sports. And so even though I never earned a varsity letter, I grew up in a world where an active young woman is not a freak. My hobby of running is not seen as some extreme sport--it is normal. This social acceptability of fitness is crucial in a sedentary society with high rates of obesity. Now granted, there's still much to be done with respect to fitness. However, without Title IX I think things would be even worse.
And now, as I prepare to bring a child in to this world, I'm even more grateful for Title IX. If this baby takes after either of his/her parents, well, let's just say we won't be welcoming any college coaches on recruiting visits. But that doesn't matter--this baby can enter a world where children of both genders can play sports and learn that fitness and physical activity are FUN and worthwhile and part of a normal, healthy lifestyle. And there's not much more I can ask for my child.
Anyways, this country is celebrating the 40th anniversary of Title IX. And all those retrospectives on women in sports got me to thinking about how Title IX has impacted my life. Now I was never much an athlete. I played a couple of seasons of t-ball and enjoyed my summer swim league. I joined the cross-country and tennis teams in junior high, but didn't play any sports in high school since I was an oh-so-cool band geek. I did row for almost a year in college, but I was absolutely positively horrible. So yeah, not an athlete.
Even though I didn't directly benefit from Title IX through access to a soccer field or a basketball scholarship, this legislation has still played an indirect but important part in my life. Title IX made sports socially acceptable for women. It wasn't automatic, but over time it became "normal" to see girls playing sports. And so even though I never earned a varsity letter, I grew up in a world where an active young woman is not a freak. My hobby of running is not seen as some extreme sport--it is normal. This social acceptability of fitness is crucial in a sedentary society with high rates of obesity. Now granted, there's still much to be done with respect to fitness. However, without Title IX I think things would be even worse.
And now, as I prepare to bring a child in to this world, I'm even more grateful for Title IX. If this baby takes after either of his/her parents, well, let's just say we won't be welcoming any college coaches on recruiting visits. But that doesn't matter--this baby can enter a world where children of both genders can play sports and learn that fitness and physical activity are FUN and worthwhile and part of a normal, healthy lifestyle. And there's not much more I can ask for my child.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
One more reason to run
I'll let this sink in for just a moment before I start blogging.
Yes, this is an ultrasound picture. Yes, it is an early shot of Baby Jeter-Boldt. I'm told that everything looks the way it should at this point, though all I see is a blur. But then again, I'm not a medical professional, so I'll just have to accept that everything looks good for now. For those of you who are now convinced the Mayans know something, fear not--Baby JB isn't scheduled to arrive until early February, so we'll all get to celebrate one more Christmas before the world ends.
In all seriousness though, this is one more reason that Michael and I have been working so hard to raise money for the Crohn's and Colitis Foundation. I'm the third generation in a row on my dad's side to have some form of IBD. On my husband's side of the family, there are several relatives with various auto-immune diseases. That medical history scared me off of having children for the past nine years. My genes suck and I was (and am) terrified of passing this disease on to my child. I watched my dad die when I was 18 and I didn't think I could handle the risk of watching a child of mine live with IBD. However, the good work that CCFA has done in funding research and various quality of life programs for patients means that if this child inherits my sucky genes and ends up with IBD, s/he will have a bright future. These advances in treatment mean that I felt comfortable passing my sucky genes on to a new generation. Treatment is already better than I was diagnosed 10 years ago. It is exponentially better than when my dad was diagnosed. And when my grandmother started showing symptoms decades ago, understanding of this disease was so limited that she was simply told she was "hysterical". Can you imagine? I can't.
While IBD treatments have progressed greatly in my lifetime, there is much to be done. There's still no cure, and many IBD patients still require surgery to remove the diseased portion of their GI tract. Even those of us who don't require surgery have to take handfuls of pills each day. Your donation to CCFA will ensure that my baby and all those other babies born to IBD patients each day will have a better future than their parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
The home stretch
As Michael already told you in his most recent post, we're coming up on the end of our journey. We've got less than $800 to reach our goal and we are so grateful for all the support we have received so far. As a patient, this means a lot to me--each dollar is a step towards a brighter future for me and all the other patients. I don't want to end up like my dad and you--yes YOU--are helping to make that wish a reality. Thank you all. Seriously. You are all heroes to me.
Another hero who deserves recognition is my husband. See, he doesn't really like running, but does it because *I* like to run. So I'm the one who got us signed up for Napa, and then I'm the one who got hurt and had to drop out. Not once has he complained about running without me. Instead, he gets up early and goes out to get his miles in while I'm spending quality time with my pillow. His training seems to be going really well and I think he's going to crack 2:00 again, which will be the first time in years that either one of us has run that good of time. So please, give him a giant round of applause for all his hard work. I'm so blessed to have such a great guy in my corner who is dedicated to finding a cure for IBD.
[And just in case this has you in the giving mood--don't forget, the wine basket raffle is still going on so you can buy tickets today! And if you are in Kansas City, join us on June 30 for trivia at Lew's. Further details were in Michael's previous post or email me with any questions.]
Another hero who deserves recognition is my husband. See, he doesn't really like running, but does it because *I* like to run. So I'm the one who got us signed up for Napa, and then I'm the one who got hurt and had to drop out. Not once has he complained about running without me. Instead, he gets up early and goes out to get his miles in while I'm spending quality time with my pillow. His training seems to be going really well and I think he's going to crack 2:00 again, which will be the first time in years that either one of us has run that good of time. So please, give him a giant round of applause for all his hard work. I'm so blessed to have such a great guy in my corner who is dedicated to finding a cure for IBD.
[And just in case this has you in the giving mood--don't forget, the wine basket raffle is still going on so you can buy tickets today! And if you are in Kansas City, join us on June 30 for trivia at Lew's. Further details were in Michael's previous post or email me with any questions.]
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