advocacy / asthma / badassmatics / dare you to move / mirror mantra

world asthma day 2012

• by kerri

First, there will be more road trip pictures eventually. But because I do things non-sequentially, we’re gonna roll on.

The mirror mantra for this week [because, dang it, I forgot to leave a mantra for the housekeeping staff in Watrous, SK last Monday]:

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The above mirror mantra may have to be a permanent addition to my bathroom, unless my mom gets rid of it like she has some other ones after a few weeks [she actually is responding rather positively to the mantras. Win!]. Once again, thanks to Jay for that piece of focus, and Dia for being my teammate in the crazy journey of asthma, perspective, #kinwin and keeping me accountable to it all.

Today is World Asthma Day.

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[Good picture there, right? #sarcasm. You get the deodorant and the ID bracelet and some med boxes.

Also the intended World Asthma Day tree tee I designed a couple years ago.]

My Facebook status, Facebook page status and earlier tweets today have been variations on this same theme:

NewImage

Okay, so I can’t go down on my own encouragement to kick ass and get active. Because “k-i-c-k-a-s-s, that’s the way we spell success”! [Thank you Giant by Matthew Good].

Really, the only ass I am kicking, or plan to kick, is my asthma’s [and my own].  I am pretty sure I picked something up on the road and am getting sick, because the three day mild sore throat has gone but turned into some increased sinus issues, dyspnea and coughing. Obviously the asthma finds the need to make itself known on World Asthma Day.

So what do I do? Well, my lungs feel like shit anyway, so might as well go take some meds and do a breathing treatment and give the neb an “eff you, asthma” finger for some perspective, strap the Garmin on it and ride that new bike, right?

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If the right answer today was to sit around because of the asthma . . . I’d rather be wrong. [The professionals would say I’m wrong. I’m not practicing what I preach either]. Come on, what is more appropriate than riding the bike called INSPIRE on World Asthma Day with the mantra of Being Intentional? Answer: not a lot.

So . . . I was intentional at kicking my own ass. Good enough, right? Also why is it not possible to not look like a total dork when protecting my brain? [The other part of my helmet is pink with flowers, but of course you can’t see the awesome half, right?].

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Representing for the Asthma Society of Canada.

So I got out there for my first bike ride in . . . years. [I am not very good at riding straight again yet. I can’t do sharp turns. Also when I met up with a lady with a stroller on the sidewalk I totally just pushed my bike along so as to not, you know, ride into them.]

Was it coughtastic and breathless? Yep. Will I pay for it later? Probably. Am I exhausted? Totally. Do I wanna go out there again? You bet.

Was it worth it? You know it.

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World Asthma Day or not, “We breathe it in, the highs and lows.” [Needle and Haystack Life, Switchfoot].

The goal? Do Good Things. Make a person or two think differently. Kick my own ass. And keep on doing it. And the disease? Kick it even harder.

Having chronic disease isn’t a choice. Perspective? It is. What I’m going to continue in regard to the asthma. I’ve made those choices:

Owning it. Being intentional.

#hawmc / asthma / health + fitness

note to self – #hawmc day 10

• by kerri

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Dear Sixteen-Year-Old-Kerri,

This year, some weird stuff will happen. I know that’s not the way you’re used to receiving notes, but because I’m from your future, I know where you’ve come from and where you’re going.

First, it gets better before it gets worse. I know it’s not easy, but right now, stop fighting with the stuff that keeps you alive. Yeah, I’m talking about food. This cyclic battle you’re having with food? It’s not worth it. It’s hard, but you will get out of it faster than you think you will. You and Jesus–you’ll throw the whole fight away late at night. So tonight: get it over with. Throw the battle away and start taking control of your life, not one variable in your life. You are so much more than how you see yourself now, and you can and will quit this thing before it gets the better of you.

Less than a month before your seventeenth birthday, you’ll be given inhalers for some possible asthma. And you won’t realize until later that it is a much bigger deal than what you thought it would be. When they tell you (twice!) you have bronchitis . . . they’ll be wrong. It’s not a fixable infection, and of course the antibiotics won’t work. It’s asthma.  It will be a hard road. It will be full of breathing tests and inhalers and doctors appointments. You’ll endure prednisone and you’ll get extremely pissed off and frustrated with your care team. Hang in there. it will change your life and your perceptions in far more ways than anticipated . . . but in many ways for the better. You’ll intertwine as a huge member of the online asthma community for a few years, and then spread your wings with a furious passion for owning chronic disease, and helping other people do the same.

You don’t know it now, but you will soon. And that’s why I’m telling you now to get off your ass. Before mid-February . . . go for a walk. Run and remember how it feels to push your body and still be able to breathe. Get off your ass.  Because it will be that much harder to do when your lungs are screwed up, but you’ll start doing it then anyways. And the dance classes you’re continually making fun of with your friends? Quit it, because you’ll be in there when you need something to fill your grade 12 law spare. Because of it, you’ll go places you never thought possible within yourself. And your body will thank you for it. So get moving now . . . because it will serve you well in more than just the typical health-variable-ways soon.  This means when you reach grade 12, it’s okay to hate gym class, but please file the rest away in your head because eventually you’ll need it. I know you don’t believe me now, but you will. When you’re nineteen, you’ll fall in love with kinesiology, active living, and your asthma will be in slightly better control. And you’ll want to push yourself a bit harder. You’ll walk a 10K race and you’ll feel like hell at the end, but you’ll be hooked.

You’ll meet amazing people both online and in person because of asthma. They’ll know where you’re at–and, like your disease, they’ll be sticking around. They’ll have an unimaginable impact on your life.

Finally, four years later, you’ll be in the midst of a huge adventure called life. You’re already grateful you’re still alive at sixteen, but now you’ll see the reasons behind it.

The current shit will end or get better, I promise. Hang on, remember the journey, write it down deeper than you already are and have been all these years . . . and you’ll get where you’re meant to be when you’re meant to be there.

Love and Good Things,

Twenty-Year-Old Kerri

asthma

the medicalert conundrum – #hawmc day 7

• by kerri

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Those of you following on Twitter may have seen my tweets the last few days regarding medical ID. And 140 characters is not a lot of space for me to effectively communicate my thoughts on the whole price-gouging thing MedicAlert Canada seems to be doing.

I became a MedicAlert member in August 2011, and have six months left on my prepaid membership. When I signed up, I chose the Advantage membership at $49/year, plus the cost of ID. I have two sportbands and a stainless steel ID, and I love them. I love the security of the MedicAlert service, especially in that I am active, travel, and often, nobody was home if the number on my generic ID was called (more details of why I chose to join MedicAlert are in the above-linked post).  A few months ago, MedicAlert Canada announced the increase in their membership fees from $39 for a Standard membership or $49 for an Advantage membership, to a $5/month membership to link all members up with Advantage–a total of $60 a year for the exact same service.

The price gouge was done to upgrade all members to Advantage, but now those who were happy paying for standard are paying $20 more per year. I chose the Advantage membership because of the craziness that is my summer with my emergency contacts being all over the place, but this is just ridiculous.

And further, it comes down to principle:

This is the exact same service that is received in the US for $45/year–including that MedicAlert Canada and MedicAlert US utilize the same medical database. In addition, many of the IDs in the MedicAlert Canada catalogue are the same as those in the MedicAlert US catalogue, but at extremely increased prices.

How is this fair?

Black MedicAlert Dog Tag: $7.45 USD . . . $39.40 CAD

Purple Flower Sportband: $22.95 USD . . . $40.00 CAD [AND with the US service, you receive a free sportband when you purchase one]

These are for the cheaper IDs. As the IDs get more expensive, there are few same-products to compare, but the watches are still $10 more each for the Canadian versions [that I assume are no different].

MedicAlert is a non-profit, charitable organization. I do not have huge knowledge into the World of Non-Profit. I know MedicAlert provides membership assistance [that I likely do not qualify for, nor would I want to simply because I think their costs are ridiculous, I would never want to take that funding away from someone who simply cannot pay for it] and programs to provide the service to kids for free pending their school is a part of the No Child Without program. This is great, especially for kiddos who have autism and cannot communicate their needs effectively, or kids with medical needs like severe food allergies or type one diabetes and are at higher risk for requiring emergency care while away from their parents. Like I said, I am a huge supporter of the service that is provided, and aside from this, my experience has been positive.

But can I justify that simply because I am Canadian, I have to pay more for the service than my southern neighbours? Can I justify that the service that is supposed to save my life has just jumped their costs and potentially made it more difficult for people who need the service to access it without membership assistance? And can I justify this when I know I can get other awesome medical IDs cheaper than MedicAlert’s and link them to a RoadID profile for $10 per year, thus receiving essentially the same service without the big-name?

I’ll be disappointed to say goodbye to my MedicAlert membership in August and the security it offers. Disappointed to put my small, less-intrusive emblems and cute flower sportband away in a drawer.

Because, simply I cannot justify it.

#hawmc / asthma / wellness

rise above it – #hawmc day 5

• by kerri

day five

two silhouettes jumping against gradient purple to orange sky in mid-air with arms extended :]

(image Credit: The Rhodesian]

just because you’re present doesn’t mean that you’re here . . . rise above it.

rise above it, switchfoot

With any sort of chronic disease, it’s all too easy to feel trapped by your own body. Like I’ve said before, it’s perspective . . . and perspective can be changed, but that sometimes doesn’t make it any easier to do. And the thing is, much as I’d like to–as easy as it might be–to separate my asthma-life from my other-life, it’s just not possible or smart. Ignoring it doesn’t push it farther away, and running from it just makes it harder to breathe.

As I was writing this, this quote from Tiffany popped up in Twitter.

I learned something on my journey through life. That I was the one preventing myself from moving forward. My past plagued my thoughts 24/7

I’ve been there. Sometimes I’m still there. And this, this isn’t freedom. And neither is the fact that in past years I’ve spent too many minutes fixated on where I thought I was stuck because of the fact that I had a chronic illness, instead of rising above it, kicking my own ass, and trying to work at “changing the standard of thinking“, as Jesse Petersen says.

And what does it come down to? Does it come down sitting in a ball, curled up and preventing yourself from shining . . . or does it come to freeing yourself?

I want to be a part of the picture above.  Freeing myself to do whatever I want in spite of my disease while being responsible about it. This is what it means to live in the moment, and take advantage of the only thing I am immediately in control of: right now. Because asthma, or any other disease, throws in a bunch of variables that are often unpredictable. This week, on Saturday and Sunday I felt perfectly fine, Monday and Tuesday i started going downhill, and Wednesday I couldn’t even breathe well enough to go to work. Tomorrow, or how good I’ll feel tomorrow, is never a guarantee.  For anybody, but it’s amplified if you live with a chronic disease.  I’m not trying to be morbid, just realistic. And I would surely rather be realistic and jumping into the dusky sky than I would either living with regrets of staring at barriers instead of climbing over them or in an emergency room because I’m not taking care of myself.

And that’s a choice. A choice to coexist, but not be limited by my disease.

I would rather make the choice to lift my hands to the sky, jump, shine . . .

And rise above it.