"Eye of the Tiger"

Last week, I shared the Rocky Recreation video here on the blog, but also to the Gift of Life Michigan Facebook page.  Since that day, it has been viewed over 18,000 times.  As of yesterday, that number was 16,000.  One of the individuals who runs the GOLM Facebook page sent me an email with more metrics, and they are in the image below. 

          I know one cannot declare his or herself as having "gone viral," but my wife said that I am one
          local news story or a share on the Donate Life America webpage from earning that label.

          I hope, beyond reaching people already invested in the concept of organ and tissue donation,
          that I am one day able to reach a large audience of those who are not the most likely candidates
          to consider becoming donors. 

          Right now I am starting small; I have spoken to 180+ kids over the past five days, all of whom
          are students at the high school I used to teach at.  Speaking to them about my transplant
          experience and the importance of being a donor is, I feel, the least I can do with my skills and
          this incredible second chance at life.  I hope to share portions of these talks with you in the
          coming days.

 

The (Hockey) Poster Child of Health

We didn't make it on the TV broadcast or JoeVision, but it wasn't for lack of trying!

(For those who don't know, Dylan Larkin is the Red Wings' 19 year old star rookie. He's closer in age to my son than he is me!

What is a String Man?

"It was the role I was born to play."  I've said that in response to numerous people who have asked me, "Who is String Man?"  (and once, "What is a String Man?")  I quickly followed by explaining that the middle school orchestra needed someone to play the titular role during their performance of the song, "The Adventures of String Man."  The person in the role basically upstages the kids for three minutes and then gets to go sit down and watch the rest of the show.  It's a sweet gig.

Another One Year Ago Look-Back...

     I owe a debt to Mark Zuckerberg.  Not a monetary one-- he doesn't need more money anyway-- but one that stems from the awareness Facebook provides via it's "Today in the Past" feature.  Yesterday it reminded me that one year ago, I was at the high school where I worked for 10 years at a silent auction / jewelry sale fundraiser to raise proceeds for Gift of Life Michigan.  It was an incredible experience to see so many people come together for an excellent cause, especially because it was being done in my honor.

Birthday Images

The following images nicely sum up my marvelous 33rd birthday. 

 

One of my favorite meals, topped off with the only kind of cake I like, angel food, in candy bar form!

These three images perfectly capture how wonderful and nerdy my birthday was. 

I met up with my mom to shop and eat the best steak sandwich in the world last Friday.  Clearly a lot of my birthday centered around food.  That may explain why I am 40 lbs. heavier on this birthday than I was on my last one!

A "Dad Can Do It" Weekend

     While day-to-day I recognize what an amazing gift my post-transplant health is, sometimes I have an extra clear window into how different and better my life is now than it was when I considered myself "healthy" four or five years ago.

     This past weekend, my son was invited to be in a flag football tournament about an hour away from our home.  The two day affair precluded him from going to hockey on Saturday, but not Sunday.  (We misread the forms and thought we were signing up for a once a weekend group, but, hey, now we get twice as much for our money!)  All told, my son spent four hours playing football and one hour playing hockey over the weekend.  On top of that, my brother-in-law gave us three 50-yard line tickets to the University of Michigan football game-- so my wife, son, and I attended as an entire family for the first time in three seasons. 

     My son was four then, and I remember thinking that I was grateful that the tickets did not require me to walk any stairs, which is only true of a tiny number of seats inside that stadium.  I thought this because it meant that if he wasn't able to behave at the game, it would be very easy to leave, and also because it saved me from the strain and embarrassment of getting winded and coughing when I reached my seat. 

     This past Saturday, I had no concerns about either of these issues.  I had spent the morning walking around an unfamiliar high school football complex, first to find my son's teammates, and later to scout out the nearest bathroom for the parents on the sideline who were concerned about the distance between our field and the main hub of the event.  By comparison, getting to a seat in a football stadium, albeit the largest one in North America, was a breeze.

     Now, all of this is not to say that I'm Superman or something.  (I'm more of a Spidey guy anyway, of course.)  After all the walking, the driving, the hauling of sideline chairs, and the lugging of hockey equipment, I was exhausted on Sunday afternoon and enjoyed a well earned nap.  But so did my wife and son.  Two years ago, I took a daily nap triggered by the exhaustion of just living my daily life, the most demanding aspect of which was folding and putting away laundry.

     The overriding realization that a weekend like the one I just had is this:  I feel so far removed from the man who, two years ago, was on oxygen and got tired just putting on a sweater that I need to take time, like I'm doing now, to record how grateful I am for how far I've come.  It would be easy to let the old me fade into memory and lose appreciation for the restoration my life has undergone.  Instead, just as I did while watching the game with my son, I maintain a laser focus on keeping the 'gratitude train' on its tracks.

After a fantastic weekend, we all wished we could take a nap during the drive home.  Only my son was afforded that pleasure.  Although "pleasure" may be the wrong word based on how uncomfortable he looks.

Over Due and Properly Developed...

     When I went on medical leave, our district was still in the "growing pains" stages of making a focused effort to eliminate the racially predictable gaps in achievement and discipline that, sadly, exist in so many schools around the nation.  I was a leader in this moment, first unofficially and then officially, as we tried to open our eyes and hearts to the realities of our own biases so that we could root them out, identify our personal and collective strengths and weaknesses in working with non-white students, and transform our entire school system into one that provides an equitable experience for all students regardless of their race, ethnicity, or background.  If this very long sentence sounds intense, that's because it is.  If it sounds like it might make teachers uncomfortable, that's because it can.  But in the two and a half years while I was unable to work, we have made marvelous strides toward more open dialogue with students and, crucially, each other, about what it looks like to be a culturally proficient educator-- one who can make every student feel like a welcome contributor to the learning environment. 

     On Tuesday, I was honored to lead a professional development session which I'd previously designed and facilitated in 2012.  Over three years ago, every teacher in my high school saw what I had put together, as teachers and administrators worked with small groups to present scenes of actual situations that had happened at our school.  Audience members were then asked to enter the scenes as the teacher, and replay them so that the racially charged or sensitive comment was handled in a way that would make the person who said it, and everyone in the room, understand the power and potential damage in saying such a thing.

     This time, it was tweaked to include scenes that had happened at the middle school level, and my co-facilitator brought her energy and passion to it during all four of our 90 minute sessions, each of which was attended by the maximum number of teacher-- 35 in the room.  A culinary arts room better served for baking cakes than improvising how to respond when a kid blurts out a racist, albeit positive, stereotype about Asian students.  But we made it work.  We received marvelous feedback.  And I felt like, once again, I've taken another step toward being the fullest version of who I can be with these new lungs and the restored life I cherish each day.

     Was I exhausted at the end of the day?  No.  I was exhausted two-thirds of the way through it, but the adrenaline of improvisation and the passion I have for this topic kept me going.  A great reality check about my current physical limitations-- wrapped inside a chance to show my colleagues, many of whom hadn't seen me in over two years, just how far I've come. 

Our session was conducted in the culinary arts room... My wife works at the district too and took a few photos when she attended. Clearly I've mastered the clicker-- and my posture is better than ever. :)

Never One to Turn Down Seconds

     Now that I am almost 14 months post-transplant, the calendar doesn't have any "firsts" for me, but "seconds" are just as wonderful on this journey as they are during a fabulous meal.  The first holiday related tradition that I've now done twice is walk around Greenfield Village at the Henry Ford Museum during "Halloween Nights," where the park, typically only open during daylight, allows families to stroll the grounds, get treats, eat cider and donuts, and see semi-spooky things along the way. 

     Last year when I went, I was much more immunosuppressed, quite concerned about the crowds of people giving me an infection, and nervous about inhaling the synthetic fog used to increase the Halloween atmosphere.  While all of those issues still drifted though my mind at some point this year, they were crammed way to the back, and I could focus on enjoying a Star Wars themed evening with my wife and son.

     As you can see in the photo, my bald faced, glasses wearing Wookie isn't nearly as menacing as Boba Fett.  But we probably had equal amounts of fun!

     As I look forward to the upcoming holidays and the traditions they bring, I am eager to pile as many "seconds" onto my plate as possible. 

"The Perfect Shot"

     My son led me into his room, telling me to close my eyes.  He then asked for my phone.  I could tell he was up to something, but wasn't at all sure what it could be. This "close your eyes, I want to surprise you with something" bit is a fairly common one in our home, as my son relishes pranks, tricks, and scaring people just as much as he loves setting up a Lego scene and revealing it to my wife and I.  So it was difficult to know what to expect.  My son walked me "in to position" as he said, and when I asked why he wanted my phone, he said it was to take a picture.  As I handed him my phone, he said I could open my eyes.

     I found myself standing between his bunk bed and his rarely used chalkboard easel.  He told me to look down, and on the front of the chalkboard, and from my upside-down perspective I saw what he had written: 

                            My Dad

     He beamed with pride as I looked at him, but only for a moment, because his face quickly changed to a look of intense focus as he held the camera up to get "the perfect shot."

     Moments like this remind me of how lucky I am, but also make me wonder-- would I appreciate little situations like this is not for the transplant?  Would I have been able to recognize how precious this little occurrence is had I not experienced the nadir and subsequent dramatic improvement of my physical health over the past two years?  I like to think I would, but I'm just as content never knowing the answer, as long as I can keep having these moments and recognizing how wonderful each of them are.

One Year Bronch

     Here is a "live" blog of my one year bronchoscopy experience, the last routine bronch I will need! 

9:38 am - Checking in, I'm asked if my visit today is accident related.  Does an accident of genetics count?

9:45 - I am measured at 64 and a half inches. Did I grow?  Post-transplant steroids, perhaps?  Whatever the case, every half inch is important when you are a short person!

9:47 - My pulmonary function test (PFT) starts out with a lower than I'd like number (83% FEV1) which is normal for me. I typically add ten percentage points to what I score in the first run.  Which is exactly what happened this time- my final effort was a 93%. Very nice. 

10:11 - My wife and I arrive down the the Medical Procedures Unit. They confirm that she is my driver since I won't be allowed to operate a vehicle for the rest of the day. 

10:24- IV is in. No matter how many times I've had an IV put in, I can never look at what they are doing. Same with standard blood draws. But I can access my own chest port without a problem. I think I have an aversion to veins being stabbed more than just needles in general. 

10:30- I am so glad I am not a hairy guy as the electrodes are stuck to my chest. One less thing to deal with. 

10:32- I read and sign the form saying I understand the risks of the procedure. It reminds me of how often we sign stuff without really reading it. This form warns me that "death" is a possible outcome from this procedure (infinitesimal though it may be), so this is slightly more important than an iPhone OS update user agreement. 

10:37 to 11:24 - Nap!  The doors open, noise is pouring in from all the hallway traffic, and the lights are on, but I don't let that stop me!

11:26 - I'm wheeled to the room where the procedure will take place. 

11:32 to 11:36 - I inhale an analgesic through a nebulizer to numb my throat for the procedure and overhead a conversation between the two doctors about a patient with lymphoma. Of course, they don't violate HIPPA, but I do get to hear firsthand how medical professionals engage in debate over the best course of treatment for someone. Balancing immediate patient comfort with long-term health concerns sounds difficult to navigate. 

11:45- My pillow is taken away in favor of a piece of foam which gently thrusts my head back to make access to my airways easier.  The doctor gives the order to send the sedatives through my IV. 

11:46 - I'm out. 

Not sure when? - I remember moving from the procedure gurney to the movable one. Vaguely. 

12:51 pm - I wake up from the sedation and, after a few minutes, I'm able to remain conscious enough to have them tell me the initial results of the bronch. (Looks pretty good).

1:17 - An X-Ray to confirm my lungs don't show any visible reason to keep me around is done. No need to tell me what positions to stand in, X-Ray tech-- I've got at least a hundred of these under my belt. 

1:25- X-Ray looks good and the IV is out!  I can leave and go eat-- not being allowed to have breakfast is pretty much the most annoying thing about this procedure. 

1:31 - Made some wonderful choices in the cafeteria- lasagna and garlic bread with sautéed veggies. And chips and a brownie. Enough to account for having missed breakfast. ;)

     When we got home, there was a package on the porch, and I had a hospital wrist band on-- just like the day I returned home after the transplant. I could not resist changing into the outfit I had on that day (well, the shorts are different; I outgrew the pair I wore in the original photos). Makes a pretty spectacular before and after, no?

"Life Renewed"

    Yesterday in the mail I received the formal invitation to this year's Vita Redita, an annual fundraiser for the University of Michigan Transplant Center. I am honored to have been selected as the guest speaker for this year's event. 

     They have asked that I speak extemporaneously for about ten minutes, but I will be sure to post my planned remarks here on the blog once I write them. This will probably be the swankiest fundraiser I'll ever attend, let alone speak at, so I want to make sure I'm starting off with a solid foundation of what to say before I go improvising!  

And Here is the Host of Jeopardy!

     As a teacher, one of my "things" was starting off the class each day with extra credit (.25 points for a correct answer) in the form of questions (well, actually, answers) taken from the page-a-day Jeopardy! calendar. It served as an excellent way to get all the kids focused on me, partly because I play the Jeopardy! sounds "This is Jeopardy!." And "Here is the host of Jeopardy!..." after which all the kids shout, "Mr. Green" at a reasonable volume. 

     I was finally able to resume this tradition, 948 days after the last time I was greeted with a chorus of teens yelling my name. The calendar arrived yesterday, and I was so grateful to have yet another thing "back," something that, without my donor, donor family, my own family, and so many amazing medical professionals, would have never been possible.

     I asked my wife to take a picture of me holding the calendar like Rafiki holds Simba in The Lion King. Yet another circle completed, and so many new horizons to behold. 

Beyond Four Walls

     One of the suggestions I received repeatedly from former students about how to approach teaching 7th grade was, "Have class outside!"  So today, we did. 

     To establish a strong foundation for our everyday journaling, we spent most of the hour outside writing, taking advantage of the last full day of summer-- scientifically speaking.

     

     Ultimately I think the number of words written was roughly equal to the number of bugs played with / killed. It was worth a try!

7th Grade Revelations

     It is not difficult to discern what a 7th grader perceives as "young" or "cool," or what he or she really thinks about you. At that point in life a child hasn't quite developed the filter that (some) kids (hopefully) attain by age 16 or 17.  Though I've spent less than ten hours with my students, they have offered me many indications of how they see me. Here are some examples:

     One said, "You are my coolest teacher, all of the rest of them have, like, really old phones."  It's worth noting that I did not have my phone out or anything, but had made a comment about writing on the Internet (such as in blogs) versus how to format writing for a class assignment. 

     One group wanted to know my age.  According to them I am somewhere between 30 and 37 years old. Not having any of them guess that I am in my twenties would have been a blow, if not for the fact that one of the lunchroom employees mistook me for an 8th grader the previous day. Either whisps of gray hair and full-on mustaches are what all 14 year olds are rocking these days, or being 5' 4" will always give me that "not yet an adult appearance."  

     No matter what the case, defining "what's cool" is not a one way street. One student was apparently very interested when I explained which app I used to put cartoon images of myself in my syllabus...

😆

Come Back Summer!

     There's nothing quite like having to miss teaching in order to attend a two hour session on how to give online standardized tests to make a teacher long for a return to the recently concluded summer vacation. As my eyes glazed over in the meeting, my mind flashed back to one of my favorite moments, and photos, from break.

     And then I had to "force" myself to focus on making sure I know how to help kids when their computer inevitably refuses to cooperate when they are testing in the few weeks. But, of course, I'd rather be doing what I did today than not be teaching.  And there's nothing stopping my son and I from having lightsaber battles in autumn!

First Days...

     "Tales from 7th Grade" will probably become an ongoing thing as I blend "posting chapters for my book" and "sharing what's happening in the present day" going forward. Here's a bit about my first two days of teaching middle school...

7th Grade Evin

If the 25 minutes I spent teaching seventh graders today are any predictor of the rest of the year, everything's going to be just fine. The kids look pretty much like this-- me when I was 12...

Six Images Say So Much

The first three images are from a year ago, when I left my house after getting the call, a photo of me post-op, and the reaction I had to arriving at home after twenty days in the hospital...

The next three images capture my transplant anniversary:  placing a candle in the water off Mackinac Island in honor of my donor and his or her family, my son's drawing on the paper tablecloth when we dined at The Woods restaurant, and an image of he and I as we traveled to the island on the ferry. 

I am so incredibly fortunate and forever grateful for the life I have. 

Winning

     Typically when my son says, "Let's race," I do, because what better use for these new lungs than seeing if I can get to that tree up ahead faster than my seven year old?

     But yesterday it was I who initiated a contest when I saw a web-like section of the play structure near the beach by our campsite. "Do you want to see who can climb to the top the fastest?"

 

     "Sure, Dad."

     Clearly I lost, but when I compete with my son, I always feel like I'm victorious. 

Spider Twins

This is my favorite photo from my son's birthday yesterday. It pretty much sums up why I love having a 7 year old.