Stop the Bleed

May is National Trauma Survivors Month -- and guess what...

You can learn to help someone survive a traumatic injury like mine.

(Yes, really!)

It's called Stop the Bleed.

Now I know what you're thinking.  I, too, sat through middle school health class in the 1980's.

Back then, tourniquets were a big NO.
And dealing with blood??  
That was an even bigger NO.

But you should know (see what I did there?) these important life-saving measures aren't NOs anymore.

First aid and trauma care have evolved since then.  

I have it from a good source  -- actually the best source -- my Jefferson Trauma Team.  

It's okay to help in an emergency.  

In fact, it's RECOMMENDED.

And EVERYONE should know how!

Stop the Bleed is a nationwide campaign to teach ordinary bystanders how to help someone who's bleeding out.  

Maybe you're out hiking or rock climbing.  

Maybe you're walking through the city.  

Maybe you're waiting at a bus stop.

With a little knowledge,
YOU can save the life of someone who's injured.

First -- CALL 911.  Make sure YOU are safe.

If the person is bleeding, apply pressure to the wound.  Both hands.  Shoulders strong.  Get down on your knees if you have to.

If the wound is wide and deep, pack it with gauze -- or whatever fabric you might have handy.  

Even a t-shirt will work.
(Trauma Nurse Nora taught me that!)

For arm or leg wounds, a tourniquet might be necessary.  Learn to use one. 

If bleeding is forceful or continuous, apply a tourniquet 2-3 inches above the wound or above the nearest joint.  (You can even make one from a cloth or belt.)

Then, stay with the person and wait for help to arrive.

As as a traumatic injury survivor, I know what it's like when bystanders don't know what to do.  My accident occurred next to a bus stop with many commuters on their way to work.  Everyone watched.  

NO ONE stepped off the sidewalk to help.

I know what it's like to lie in the street, bleeding and frightened, waiting for an ambulance to arrive. 

In 3-5 minutes, a person can bleed out from a serious wound.

It can take an average of 7-10 minutes for first responders to arrive.

I have no way of knowing if my outcome would have been different if a bystander had stepped in to stop the bleed.  

But perhaps it would have been worth a try.

We can all learn the basics. Check out Stop the Bleed Project for more information.  

You can view a short video here.  
Or a longer video here.

This month, I learned the basics and joined the Jefferson Team to help educate the public. 

It was just my first step into this important cause.  More to come...

ANYONE CAN BE A HERO.

P.S.  Stop the Bleed Kits and other first aid supplies are readily available - even on Amazon.

The Slow Down

T-minus 2 months...

I'm planning a trip.  

A real trip. 

It wasn't an easy decision.  It's been in the works since late December, and I've been thinking about it since way before that.

(No details yet.  From my very first steps, I learned not to jinx future plans!)

But today -- May 21st -- departure is exactly 2 months away.

So I've been "in training."

Walking more steps.  (Or trying!)

Eating more foods in more places.

And in an effort and to get both feet in working order...

Yep - the dreaded shoe shopping!

But earlier this week, all that training hits a wall.

At first, it feels like a good day.  I'm walking comfortably, full of energy.  

I'm out on the sidewalk. 
I'm at work.
I'm headed to an appointment.  

But as the afternoon wears on, my stomach gets tight.

Note to self:  This is always a sign I should slow down.  

Note to you:  I ignore the sign.  

It's good training, I tell myself instead.  Keep going.

(I'm a hopeless optimist, in case you haven't figured that out yet.)

That "seat belt" feeling across my abdomen intensifies as the evening goes on.  We've been here before, so I'll spare you the details. 

By 9 PM, I'm doubled over with all the hallmarks of a bowel obstruction.  

By 10 PM, I text my brother and friends to be on alert for a possible midnight trip to the ER.

(Not quite the trip I was training for.)

Eventually... 

Finally... 

Bit by bit... 
The symptoms subside.  

(Not quite peacefully, but at least manageably.) 

It leaves me drained.

I move through the rest of the week in slow motion, scaling back my training to the smallest tasks:

Make a to-do list while sitting on the balcony.

Test new shoes on the hardwood floor.
Do PT exercises on my bed.

It's productive in its own way, but my confidence has taken a hit.

How can I keep pace with travel when I can't even do it at home??

I've faced this question often in various forms.  

As much as I try to evade the "slow down," it seems to be an inevitable part of the process.

It's frustrating.  But it's part of who I am.

Yet another part of me (that hopelessly optimistic part!) craves a bigger, wider, more energetic and adventurous life.  

I wish the answer were as clear as a countdown,

or walking an extra mile,

or finding the perfect pair of shoes.

But what if it's not about keeping pace at all?  

What if it's about... accepting it?

Accepting my pace -- with all its setbacks, and speed ups, and slow downs.

Accepting that uncertainty -- owning it -- even as I wish and work to make things different.

Now there's something to train for!

May 21 is a good day (so far).  

My feet and digestion are bouncing back.  It's early to judge, but I'm hopeful.

Plus it's a Sunday.  So there's time to go slow.

To mark the day, I pop into our local French bakery ICI for a "training treat."

T-minus 2 months...

...and counting.

A Better Place to Be

Newport, Rhode Island could be the set of a Hallmark movie.

From our table at the Corner Café, Natalie and I get a peek behind the scenes.

Just off camera:  Three middle school moms sneaking out early while their teens are still in bed.  A young bearded guy on a barstool.  A woman with 2 little girls in ribbons and party dresses.  And a wrinkle-clothed regular who shuffles out for a smoke while his breakfast is cooking. 

It's Sunday, 7:30 AM, and we're surrounded by locals.

What are their lives like here?  

Why are they out so early on a weekend? 

As we wait for our eggs, Nat and I write the script.  We imagine who they are, why they're here today -- and what brings them together at this little breakfast spot across from the local school.

It's fun.  Relaxing.  And I'm happy to be here among them.

Travel is tricky for me, especially in the mornings.  Which makes this moment -- the mug of coffee, the sticky jam, the thick multigrain toast -- an extra special treat. 

It's the end of our weekend in Newport and, like any good Hallmark movie, the town has pulled us in for a hug.

Last night we met a student from the yacht-building academy, who happened to be our waiter at Knot Norm's.

He introduced us to the "lobster bowl."
(Not roll!)

Before that, we met Lew, a science teacher from Northeast Philly, who has settled in Newport for his retirement.   

He gave us a history lesson
at the Touro Synagogue!  

And because we're us, we also took ourselves on a tour of the library! 

It's the Redwood --

one of the oldest in the country!

In 2 short days, we've made ourselves at home here -- mansions and all.

I could get used to this. :)

And why not?

The air smells like seafood and campfires. 

Church bells chime on the hour.

Cars come to a stop at every crosswalk. 

And there's water anywhere we wander.  

We give up trying to figure out which waves are which...

...and just enjoy the splash of sunset.

Days flow better here.  

Sunrise is 20 minutes earlier.  (Really!)

And red leaves abound, making spring feel like fall.  

We call them "Newport Maples."

We can't get enough.  It's like a show we want to binge-watch, yet savor at the same time.

We shop at a local bookstore.  

Meet a local artist.  

Become regulars at the local coffee place.

Where we sample the local drink, of course --

Coffee Milk!

We even learn what the local pineapple symbol means...

Hospitality!

Newport is not perfect -- or easy.   Nowhere is.  

Even with trekking poles, I can only manage a small portion of the Cliffwalk.  I get too hot too fast.  I nearly sweat out of my leg and die of thirst along the way. 

(Ok, exaggerating a bit...
but it's not my finest moment!)

That's just one example.  

I feel slow and "stumbly" a lot of the time.  Throughout the weekend, we stop so I can tend to leg adjustments and other physical needs.

In that way, it reminds me of a different road trip many miles ago -- back at Mile 21 -- my first time traveling after my amputation.  

Back then, I had the idea that if I just practiced enough, I'd somehow find my way to a better place -- to where I was before the accident.

My gait (and feelings) have evolved over time, but I still grapple with similar challenges.  

Now, I've realized, they're just part of the journey.

In an instant, we're back home, and that harbor breeze is just a memory.  

Philly turns hot and sticky. 

My right foot doesn't feel right.

And at 10 PM, the city launches a new construction project, sending a monsoon of dust and gravel into my beloved balcony garden.

I lie in bed and imagine moving to Newport.

I know, I know.  I'm sure reality would catch up with me there too.

Eventually.

Maybe Nat and I will put our heads together and write that screenplay.  Or maybe the Corner Café will be the setting for my next novel.

I like to think of our characters back there in Newport, still living their lives.  Kinda wish I could join them.

Who wouldn't want to step inside a Hallmark movie?

It's just a better place to be.

P.S.  Writing this postcard made me think of this song by Harry Chapin.  It's not about Rhode Island, but it's a sweet story - and one of my faves.  If you need an 8-minute vacation, give it a listen. :)  

Happy travels!

News from the Balcony

-- Newsflash --

My "June-blooming strawberry" has a jumpstart on the season!

As a late-bloomer myself, I'm impressed I even planted it before June!

Squished into a flower box 4 inches wide, hanging 3 stories above the city street, I wasn't even sure it would survive.  

Add to that...

swinging spring temps, 
soggy soil, 

rain for days.

Yet against all odds, it's thriving.  And early!!

Maybe it's a sign -- Should I turn over a new leaf too?  Maybe I'll too be an "early bird" from now on!

(If you know me, you're probably laughing.)

Truth is, I exist in time differently.

This spring, I've been searching for my body's own rhythms.  

Trying to accept them. Work with them.

Move in harmony with the way things are.

And discover my own pace along the way.

So for now, I'll just bloom where I'm planted.  

Consider the sweetness to come.

And enjoy the view!

Happy May!