Last Wednesday night my brother, Ralph, and I trekked to the Buffalo Chip Campground in Sturgis for the Rob Zombie Concert.
I know what you're thinking: "What, Barry Manilow wasn't in town?" Believe it or not, despite no tattoos, no piercings and short hair, I've been known to rock in my day. And besides, Rob Zombie is only six years younger than me.
And of course, the tickets were free, which doesn't hurt. I scored four tickets (or wristbands) and picked Rob Zombie over Toby Keith, just on a hunch. I admit I haven't listened to a lot of Zombie, but I have listened to a lot of Alice Cooper and the two are friends (or fiends, if you will) and tour together at times. I had a feeling I would enjoy the show.
I was right. It was a great show.
But let's go back to before the base vibration nearly went through my chest. I had four tickets, but as it turned out, only Ralph and I could attend. After picking up our wristbands at the ticket office, I decided to wait in front to give away the other two. No sense of them going to waste. I thought about selling the other two, but only briefly. The two security guys standing there made it an easy decision not to.I could see the headline in the Rapid City Journal: "Journal sportswriter busted for scalping Rob Zombie tickets." Or better yet, "Former Journal sportswriter busted for scalping Rob Zombie tickets."
Sunday, August 11, 2013
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Turn out the lights, the party's over
I've been accused of being in the dark many times, probably rightfully so. That was literally the case Thursday night after covering a boys' basketball game between New Underwood and Oelrichs in the New Underwood gymnasium.
After my post game interviews, I asked and received permission to write my story in head coach Stacy Finkbeiner’s classroom (at least I think it was his classroom as that’s where we went for the interview). I needed about a half hour and I told Finkbeiner to make sure no one locks me in.
The half hour came and went and just as I had trouble this fall sending a football story online from New Underwood with the Journal’s I Phone connection, it happened again Thursday night. Another 15 minutes later – which passed our copy deadline – I decided to just book it back to Rapid City.
As I left the classroom, I found the rest of the school about as dark as dark can be. I somehow found my way through the gym and to a door and exited the building, only to be met outside by a gentleman who was very suspicious of why I just left an empty, dark school. I don’t blame him a bit, I would be suspicious too. It took a little convincing and proof by my Journal press pass that I was who I said I was and I was just doing my job.
I hurried my way back to the Journal with my story. I won’t say if I fractured the speed limit on my return, but I won’t say that I didn’t. On second thought, I drove the speed limit at all times.
This was the second time that a school janitorial staff had shut the lights off on me before I could file my story. The first time was in Spearfish last fall for a high school football game at Lyle Hare Stadium. At least I had the moonlight to guide me out of the stadium.
After my post game interviews, I asked and received permission to write my story in head coach Stacy Finkbeiner’s classroom (at least I think it was his classroom as that’s where we went for the interview). I needed about a half hour and I told Finkbeiner to make sure no one locks me in.
The half hour came and went and just as I had trouble this fall sending a football story online from New Underwood with the Journal’s I Phone connection, it happened again Thursday night. Another 15 minutes later – which passed our copy deadline – I decided to just book it back to Rapid City.
As I left the classroom, I found the rest of the school about as dark as dark can be. I somehow found my way through the gym and to a door and exited the building, only to be met outside by a gentleman who was very suspicious of why I just left an empty, dark school. I don’t blame him a bit, I would be suspicious too. It took a little convincing and proof by my Journal press pass that I was who I said I was and I was just doing my job.
I hurried my way back to the Journal with my story. I won’t say if I fractured the speed limit on my return, but I won’t say that I didn’t. On second thought, I drove the speed limit at all times.
This was the second time that a school janitorial staff had shut the lights off on me before I could file my story. The first time was in Spearfish last fall for a high school football game at Lyle Hare Stadium. At least I had the moonlight to guide me out of the stadium.
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Be thankful, because you can
I was going to write today on Facebook what I was thankful for -- on Thanksgiving -- but who am I kidding? There is not enough room on FB for that, so on the blog I go.
I realize that I am a little late in doing so tonight, but I have pretty much been in bed all day sick. That, I'm not thankful for.
But I am thankful that, although I kind of ruined my Mom's Thanksgiving get-together being sick, I am thankful that she is still with us after our little scare this summer and that I was here this week and my mother was able to take care of me. You're never too old to have your mom take care of you.
I am thankful that the Rapid City Journal had enough faith in me to hire me, bringing me to the Black Hills again after being away for 30 years. I say that because it became apparent that nobody else in Wyoming had the same faith in me despite all that I accomplished there.
I wouldn't have been able to come to Rapid City if not for my brother, Ralph, and his wife, Sharon, as they have brought me into their home without hesitation. With my house in Laramie, there is no way I could afford two residences. Thank you, Ralph and Sharon.
I'm thankful for all of my friends and especially my family who have always been there for me.
I'm thankful that Teresa's parents, Frank and Pat Poindexter, still consider me part of the family and call me on occasion just to see how I am doing.
I realize that I am a little late in doing so tonight, but I have pretty much been in bed all day sick. That, I'm not thankful for.
But I am thankful that, although I kind of ruined my Mom's Thanksgiving get-together being sick, I am thankful that she is still with us after our little scare this summer and that I was here this week and my mother was able to take care of me. You're never too old to have your mom take care of you.
I am thankful that the Rapid City Journal had enough faith in me to hire me, bringing me to the Black Hills again after being away for 30 years. I say that because it became apparent that nobody else in Wyoming had the same faith in me despite all that I accomplished there.
I wouldn't have been able to come to Rapid City if not for my brother, Ralph, and his wife, Sharon, as they have brought me into their home without hesitation. With my house in Laramie, there is no way I could afford two residences. Thank you, Ralph and Sharon.
I'm thankful for all of my friends and especially my family who have always been there for me.
I'm thankful that Teresa's parents, Frank and Pat Poindexter, still consider me part of the family and call me on occasion just to see how I am doing.
Sunday, October 21, 2012
One blog (to be) gone, one to stay
A couple of years ago I started this blog after my previous sports blog, Wyomingsports.org was retired when I went to work for the Cheyenne Tribune Eagle.
Originally, it was just an opportunity to ramble about sports in an unofficial capacity. Later, I began to write about Teresa's and my struggles with her health and began another blog, Wyomingsports, on Wordpress to separate them a bit, especially when I quit my job at the Tribune Eagle to be at home when Teresa was discharged from the hospital in Denver.
Even after her passing, I kept it up with both blogs, but mostly with the sports blog when I was freelancing and especially when I was not freelancing and still writing on my own covering University of Wyoming sports.
Now that I am a sportswriter for the Rapid City Journal, I no longer cover UW athletics. I guess it is time to retire Wyomingsports. It's kind of funny, looking at my stats, even with a disclaimer on the front page, I still get a handful of people now and then looking at it, likely expecting a UW story.
Originally, it was just an opportunity to ramble about sports in an unofficial capacity. Later, I began to write about Teresa's and my struggles with her health and began another blog, Wyomingsports, on Wordpress to separate them a bit, especially when I quit my job at the Tribune Eagle to be at home when Teresa was discharged from the hospital in Denver.
Even after her passing, I kept it up with both blogs, but mostly with the sports blog when I was freelancing and especially when I was not freelancing and still writing on my own covering University of Wyoming sports.
Now that I am a sportswriter for the Rapid City Journal, I no longer cover UW athletics. I guess it is time to retire Wyomingsports. It's kind of funny, looking at my stats, even with a disclaimer on the front page, I still get a handful of people now and then looking at it, likely expecting a UW story.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
It's no Stradivarius, but I still have a Pee-wee puppet
A few years ago Teresa showed me a violin that a friend gave her … it was from her friend's grandfather after they cleaned out some of his stuff after he passed away.
Teresa told me, "We think it is a Stradivarius. It might be worth something."
Okay, I thought, maybe it is. I knew that a Stradivarius was the best violin in the world, but I admit I knew little else.
"Someday, if we ever need money, maybe we can sell it," Teresa said.
Well, that day came in the last year or so when Teresa was battling her health and our medical bills were getting out of control.
So, I took it to a local pawn shop to see if they knew anything about it. They didn't, but said to contact somebody from the University of Wyoming music department and see what they say.
Teresa told me, "We think it is a Stradivarius. It might be worth something."
Okay, I thought, maybe it is. I knew that a Stradivarius was the best violin in the world, but I admit I knew little else.
"Someday, if we ever need money, maybe we can sell it," Teresa said.
Well, that day came in the last year or so when Teresa was battling her health and our medical bills were getting out of control.
So, I took it to a local pawn shop to see if they knew anything about it. They didn't, but said to contact somebody from the University of Wyoming music department and see what they say.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Remembering the good times
It's been nearly six months since Teresa left this world and is now looking over us in Heaven, and yes, I truly believe that, although my heart aches constantly knowing that she is not physically with us.
Her 46th birthday is July 10, two days from the six-month anniversary of her death.
With her birthday coming up, Teresa's parents will be here in Laramie to see her headstone for the first time and to visit. It will no doubt be an emotional time for all of us.
With that in mind, we're going to have a little party. The whole idea about coming together like this is to remember Teresa as she lived and not how she died. As much as she could, even to the end, Teresa lived her life to the fullest as a mother, daughter, wife and friend.
Her 46th birthday is July 10, two days from the six-month anniversary of her death.
With her birthday coming up, Teresa's parents will be here in Laramie to see her headstone for the first time and to visit. It will no doubt be an emotional time for all of us.
With that in mind, we're going to have a little party. The whole idea about coming together like this is to remember Teresa as she lived and not how she died. As much as she could, even to the end, Teresa lived her life to the fullest as a mother, daughter, wife and friend.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
The reports of my death were greatly exaggerated
This almost happened to me ... kind of.
A story in the Greeley Tribune about a man whose obituary was published even though he hadn't died, got me to thinking about an incident in college. No obituary of me was published, but there were friends and acquaintances who thought I had passed away.
When I was a student at Black Hills State University in Spearfish, S.D., a fire at a sawmill killed a worker ... a 21-year-old Richard Anderson, also student at BHSU. I, too, was 21 years old at the time.
The story hit the wires services and apparently was heard on the radio by a couple of my high school friends (brothers) who were going to school at South Dakota State University in Brookings, S.D. They had called their mother to find out when my funeral services were, as they had planned to attend. She then called my mother to find out.
I had called my mom to reassure her that it wasn't me and she told my friends' mother that it wasn't me. All was well.
But it didn't end there.
The day after the accident, I missed a certain journalism class to work, covering an event at a nearby local newspaper in Belle Fourche, S.D. Two days later I shocked the professor when I walked into the classroom.
"We thought you had died in the fire," the professor tells me.
"Obviously, that wasn't me," I retorted.
It still hadn't ended there.
A few days later, a knock came on my door. When I answered the door, the man standing there said, "Good, you're not dead."
I think I answered, "Thank you, I'm glad too."
A couple of months earlier, for some reason, I took out a life insurance policy. It was my insurance agent. Evidently, he was sweating bullets for a couple of days, likely thinking he had to write out a check to my survivors.
So as it was, borrowing a quote from Mark Twain, "The reports of my death were greatly exaggerated."
Slightly like this story.
A story in the Greeley Tribune about a man whose obituary was published even though he hadn't died, got me to thinking about an incident in college. No obituary of me was published, but there were friends and acquaintances who thought I had passed away.
When I was a student at Black Hills State University in Spearfish, S.D., a fire at a sawmill killed a worker ... a 21-year-old Richard Anderson, also student at BHSU. I, too, was 21 years old at the time.
The story hit the wires services and apparently was heard on the radio by a couple of my high school friends (brothers) who were going to school at South Dakota State University in Brookings, S.D. They had called their mother to find out when my funeral services were, as they had planned to attend. She then called my mother to find out.
I had called my mom to reassure her that it wasn't me and she told my friends' mother that it wasn't me. All was well.
But it didn't end there.
The day after the accident, I missed a certain journalism class to work, covering an event at a nearby local newspaper in Belle Fourche, S.D. Two days later I shocked the professor when I walked into the classroom.
"We thought you had died in the fire," the professor tells me.
"Obviously, that wasn't me," I retorted.
It still hadn't ended there.
A few days later, a knock came on my door. When I answered the door, the man standing there said, "Good, you're not dead."
I think I answered, "Thank you, I'm glad too."
A couple of months earlier, for some reason, I took out a life insurance policy. It was my insurance agent. Evidently, he was sweating bullets for a couple of days, likely thinking he had to write out a check to my survivors.
So as it was, borrowing a quote from Mark Twain, "The reports of my death were greatly exaggerated."
Slightly like this story.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Who is Tanisha Poindexter?
Several times a week we still get mail for Teresa. Some of it is junk mail and some of it is still doctor bills.
At first it kind of bothered me, but I know it is going to continue to happen. Whatever.
Today's mail has me puzzled ... more than usual. I'll get to it in a minute.
For those who didn't know, Teresa kept her previous married name -- Clift -- because she didn't want to cause confusion for her daughter, Cassie, as she went through school. Her plan was to change her name to Anderson once Cassie graduated from high school, which she did in 2010.
By that time, though, Teresa was in and out of hospitals and nursing homes. She never got it done for obvious reasons. I kept Clift in her obituary and headstone because I know that is what most people knew her by. Again, I wanted to avoid confusion. It was also still her legal name.
Before Clift, her maiden name was Poindexter. And yes, she was teased about it.
If she was with us today, you can bet I would be teasing her now. In the mail today came one of those prepaid debit card offers from TurboTax in the name of ... Tanisha Poindexter. That's right, Tanisha Poindexter.
I have no idea how this happened or why it happened. I'm tempted to call the 800 number on the offer to get an explanation. Of course, it would do me no good and likely I would eventually get an offer in the mail myself for Ricardo Poindexter or something like that.
I suppose Tanisha could sound like Teresa over the phone, but she hadn't gone by Poindexter in over 20 years. Did Teresa talk to them at some point? I guess it could have happened when she was in the hospital last year in Denver, but she was discharged in early December.
Maybe there was a Tanisha Poindexter living at this address before Teresa bought the house in in the early 1990s, although I really doubt it. That would be too weird.
I'll probably never really know, unless Tanisha Poindexter gets more mail here.
Then I will have to know.
At first it kind of bothered me, but I know it is going to continue to happen. Whatever.
Today's mail has me puzzled ... more than usual. I'll get to it in a minute.
For those who didn't know, Teresa kept her previous married name -- Clift -- because she didn't want to cause confusion for her daughter, Cassie, as she went through school. Her plan was to change her name to Anderson once Cassie graduated from high school, which she did in 2010.
By that time, though, Teresa was in and out of hospitals and nursing homes. She never got it done for obvious reasons. I kept Clift in her obituary and headstone because I know that is what most people knew her by. Again, I wanted to avoid confusion. It was also still her legal name.
Before Clift, her maiden name was Poindexter. And yes, she was teased about it.
If she was with us today, you can bet I would be teasing her now. In the mail today came one of those prepaid debit card offers from TurboTax in the name of ... Tanisha Poindexter. That's right, Tanisha Poindexter.
I have no idea how this happened or why it happened. I'm tempted to call the 800 number on the offer to get an explanation. Of course, it would do me no good and likely I would eventually get an offer in the mail myself for Ricardo Poindexter or something like that.
I suppose Tanisha could sound like Teresa over the phone, but she hadn't gone by Poindexter in over 20 years. Did Teresa talk to them at some point? I guess it could have happened when she was in the hospital last year in Denver, but she was discharged in early December.
Maybe there was a Tanisha Poindexter living at this address before Teresa bought the house in in the early 1990s, although I really doubt it. That would be too weird.
I'll probably never really know, unless Tanisha Poindexter gets more mail here.
Then I will have to know.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Looking stylish on the job
First of all, I have no right to criticize, but I will at least make fun of. I'm pretty good at both.
While I am on my laptop in my living room continuously staring at the job boards, I notice a lawn care truck pull up across the street. Two young female workers bounce out of the truck and one is dancing. Evidently they were grooving to a tune as they pulled up.
It's still fairly cool out, in the low 50s. Both are bundled up in sweats and baseball caps. They're both wearing basketball shorts. How do I know they are wearing basketball shorts underneath their sweats? On cue, both pull down their sweats below their, uh, drearier, like the cool kids do these days.
Their job evidently is to spray the dandelions, which are beginning to pop up like ... dandelions.
It probably takes them less than five minutes to do their job in this very small front yard.
On cue, as they finish up and get ready to get back in their truck, they pull their pants back up. Evidently it is more difficult to drive with your pants down. Of course, I wouldn't know. Maybe I'll try it some day.
As it turned out, both spent more time making sure they looked right than they did with their actual job. Well, let me clarify. All I can see now is the driver. I'm guessing the other worker did the same.
Nevertheless, the driver takes her cap off and fixes her hair while looking in the outside mirror. She then puts her cap back on, looks in the mirror, then takes it off again. The hair wasn't quite right. It takes a while, but she gets it right, sticking her head out of the window and looking in the mirror ... four more times.
She pulls the hoodie up over her cap, sticks her head out of the window and looks in the mirror.
She puts her sunglasses back on, sticks her head out of the window and looks in the mirror.
They take off. At least she looked in the mirror before pulling out into traffic. Well, I think it was because she was pulling out into traffic. It could have been just to see how she looked as she was pulling out into traffic.
Once they drove off, I mumbled to myself, "At least they have a job."
While I am on my laptop in my living room continuously staring at the job boards, I notice a lawn care truck pull up across the street. Two young female workers bounce out of the truck and one is dancing. Evidently they were grooving to a tune as they pulled up.
It's still fairly cool out, in the low 50s. Both are bundled up in sweats and baseball caps. They're both wearing basketball shorts. How do I know they are wearing basketball shorts underneath their sweats? On cue, both pull down their sweats below their, uh, drearier, like the cool kids do these days.
Their job evidently is to spray the dandelions, which are beginning to pop up like ... dandelions.
It probably takes them less than five minutes to do their job in this very small front yard.
On cue, as they finish up and get ready to get back in their truck, they pull their pants back up. Evidently it is more difficult to drive with your pants down. Of course, I wouldn't know. Maybe I'll try it some day.
As it turned out, both spent more time making sure they looked right than they did with their actual job. Well, let me clarify. All I can see now is the driver. I'm guessing the other worker did the same.
Nevertheless, the driver takes her cap off and fixes her hair while looking in the outside mirror. She then puts her cap back on, looks in the mirror, then takes it off again. The hair wasn't quite right. It takes a while, but she gets it right, sticking her head out of the window and looking in the mirror ... four more times.
She pulls the hoodie up over her cap, sticks her head out of the window and looks in the mirror.
She puts her sunglasses back on, sticks her head out of the window and looks in the mirror.
They take off. At least she looked in the mirror before pulling out into traffic. Well, I think it was because she was pulling out into traffic. It could have been just to see how she looked as she was pulling out into traffic.
Once they drove off, I mumbled to myself, "At least they have a job."
Friday, May 18, 2012
Just a sucker for hometowns
Let's see, "home is where the heart is, you can never go home," or "home away from home."
What else can I say about home? That'll probably do it.
I recently mentioned on Facebook and to my family that during a visit to my hometown of Hot Springs, S.D., I felt the Black Hills pulling me back.
Walking my dog at Butler Park, I was surrounded by the beauty of the Hills. I thought to myself, "who wouldn't want to live here?"
I guess you can count yours truly as one who couldn't wait to get out of their hometown as a kid. For the most part, I think most of us felt that way, whether we stayed or left.
Now 30-some years later, you look around and realize that your hometown isn't just a bunch of houses with nothing to do. It's a pretty spectacular place. Funny how that happens.
What else can I say about home? That'll probably do it.
I recently mentioned on Facebook and to my family that during a visit to my hometown of Hot Springs, S.D., I felt the Black Hills pulling me back.
Walking my dog at Butler Park, I was surrounded by the beauty of the Hills. I thought to myself, "who wouldn't want to live here?"
I guess you can count yours truly as one who couldn't wait to get out of their hometown as a kid. For the most part, I think most of us felt that way, whether we stayed or left.
Now 30-some years later, you look around and realize that your hometown isn't just a bunch of houses with nothing to do. It's a pretty spectacular place. Funny how that happens.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Once a Cowgirl, always a Cowgirl
It didn't take me long to know what I wanted to put on Teresa's headstone when making final arrangements after she passed away on Jan. 12.
In June 2011, Bob Hammond wrote a column on Teresa's health struggles and tied in her love of the University of Wyoming sports programs, especially women's basketball, and her attempts to get back to cheering for her Cowgirls.
As many of you know, Teresa (Poindexter) is a former Cowgirls basketball player, competing for Wyoming from 1984-87. She graduated with a nursing degree from UW in 1989 and spent many years as a nurse at Ivinson Memorial Hospital and later at the Cathedral Home for Children.
In that column, Hammond wrote, "Once a Cowgirl, always a Cowgirl."
This past season, when it appeared that Teresa was going to be able to come home after a 15-month stay in various hospitals, we talked about her being able to go to a Cowgirls game, likely near the end of the season as it would give her time to recover and be able to sustain the physical aspect of attending a game. Teresa's injuries and illnesses caused her to be a paraplegic.
In a conversation with head coach Joe Legerski, who coached Teresa for one season as a young assistant under Chad Lavin, we talked about Teresa attending a game. Legerski said that when we thought that would be possible, they wanted to do something special for her. He closed the conversation by saying, "Once a Cowgirl, always a Cowgirl."
Unfortunately, we weren't able to fulfill Teresa's wish and after 10 great days at home, Teresa returned to the hospital again and later passed away.
Teresa left a legacy as a mother, a wife, a daughter, a sister, a friend and a caregiver. Even to the end, she was always thinking of others.
Teresa came back to Laramie twice in her life. It was her home. She loved everything about Laramie, the state and the University of Wyoming.
"Once a Cowgirl, always a Cowgirl."
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Fulfilling a dream
I think it is safe to say that I am a dreamer. More like dreaming in my sleep than being a daydreamer, although I do have a plan for when I win the lottery.
Throughout the years, I have had constant dreams about different subjects. After becoming an adult (whenever that was), I dreamed about the old days as a high school athlete. I had to quit sports my junior year for medical reasons, so I never fulfilled my athletic achievements. Hence, I became a sports writer. Naturally in these dreams, even at an advanced age, I dominate.
Since my wife, Teresa, passed away in January, I have been flooded with dreams of her. Some good, some bad. In the good dreams, Teresa is always able to walk again, which makes me feel good when I wake up. I guess it's all about searching for a sign that she is going to be okay.
Throughout the years that I have been with Teresa, I always told her about some of the more bizarre dreams that I had encountered. One of her favorites was one that has me going back to my hometown (Hot Springs, S.D.). In these dreams, I walk the main drag. I usually start around Norm's Pool Hall and end up at either Donnell's store, the Evans Hotel or even the Evans Plunge.
All this time there is a party going on, like a class reunion or a city celebration. Regardless, I would tell Teresa and she always got a kick out of it.
Throughout the years, I have had constant dreams about different subjects. After becoming an adult (whenever that was), I dreamed about the old days as a high school athlete. I had to quit sports my junior year for medical reasons, so I never fulfilled my athletic achievements. Hence, I became a sports writer. Naturally in these dreams, even at an advanced age, I dominate.
Since my wife, Teresa, passed away in January, I have been flooded with dreams of her. Some good, some bad. In the good dreams, Teresa is always able to walk again, which makes me feel good when I wake up. I guess it's all about searching for a sign that she is going to be okay.
Throughout the years that I have been with Teresa, I always told her about some of the more bizarre dreams that I had encountered. One of her favorites was one that has me going back to my hometown (Hot Springs, S.D.). In these dreams, I walk the main drag. I usually start around Norm's Pool Hall and end up at either Donnell's store, the Evans Hotel or even the Evans Plunge.
All this time there is a party going on, like a class reunion or a city celebration. Regardless, I would tell Teresa and she always got a kick out of it.
Monday, March 5, 2012
What do I do now?
In a little over a week, I'll celebrate my 53rd birthday.
Fifty frickin three.
I'm not sure I like the sound of that. And celebrate? Hardly. What's to celebrate?
On my 52nd birthday, I had the day off and made the trek to Denver to visit Teresa, who was just a couple months into her year-long stay at the Colorado Acute Longterm Hospital. I had a hunch something might be going on when I walked past the nurses station as I got a few smiles and grins from the nurses, aides and physical therapists.
Actually I didn't have a clue, really. I say I did, but I'm just kidding myself. It sounds better when I say it.
Just a few minutes after my arrival, the whole nurses station seemed to come into Teresa's room where they sang happy birthday to me, did a little dance and gave me a cupcake with a candle in it. One of Teresa's nurses, Sue, made me a birthday hat from a Depends diaper. I wore it for them. I have proof with a picture that I will likely never show anybody again.
Teresa had it all planned out. I'd give anything to only be turning 52 in a week, instead of 53.
Fifty frickin three.
I'm not sure I like the sound of that. And celebrate? Hardly. What's to celebrate?
On my 52nd birthday, I had the day off and made the trek to Denver to visit Teresa, who was just a couple months into her year-long stay at the Colorado Acute Longterm Hospital. I had a hunch something might be going on when I walked past the nurses station as I got a few smiles and grins from the nurses, aides and physical therapists.
Actually I didn't have a clue, really. I say I did, but I'm just kidding myself. It sounds better when I say it.
Just a few minutes after my arrival, the whole nurses station seemed to come into Teresa's room where they sang happy birthday to me, did a little dance and gave me a cupcake with a candle in it. One of Teresa's nurses, Sue, made me a birthday hat from a Depends diaper. I wore it for them. I have proof with a picture that I will likely never show anybody again.
Teresa had it all planned out. I'd give anything to only be turning 52 in a week, instead of 53.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
The chance to give (and receive) thanks
I got this text from Teresa early Thanksgiving morning before I came down to Denver for the day.
I'm not sure how many people she sent it to, but it was a mass text, so I have a feeling it was quite a few. Teresa is still on schedule for her discharge from Colorado Acute Long Term Hospital in Denver on Dec. 13. If that happens, she will be three days shy of her admittance to this facility. She has been in various hospitals since October 2010.
Here's her text:
"Happy Thanksgiving! Well I will be home in less than three weeks. Can't believe I've spent one year of my life here. In dog years that is 7 years and I have 8 more years to live if I was a cat. Needless to say I won't be eating dog or cat chow on this fine day of thanks.
"Over the past year here I have been extremely thankful for many things. First of all I'm thankful to my Lord who didn't take me when I had a fever of 104.2 and delirious. I thank him for my daughter, Cassie, who sat in the corner and watched her mother cry out that she wanted to die. My mom for listening to her daughter curse like a sailor and hold my hand through the delirium. Most of all my husband, Rich, who stuck through all of this wondering why my wife doesn't recognize me and listened to me bitch and moan. To Beth who started my fundraiser and texts me everyday ... and to the rest of my family and friends, thank you for all of the prayers, calls and texts.
"Thank you again for all things good and bad. Remember the glass is half full and ENJOY LIFE BECAUSE YOU CAN!
"Teresa"
I'm not sure I could have said it better. Without all of the above (along with her care here at the hospital) and her determination to beat this, I'm not sure that Teresa would be here to give thanks. We also can't be more thankful to all of the prayers said by friends, family and even on Facebook from people Teresa has never met. We won't name names any further just so we don't leave anybody out. Hopefully, you know who you are and God bless you.
Teresa asked me what I wanted for Christmas the other day and I said, "I just want you to be home." Teresa didn't really buy that answer, but it is true. I finally said that we're going to concentrate on a few things for the kitchen ... new stove and dishwasher and eventually a new refrigerator; things that we've been needing for a long time but will also help her in her recovery.
What am I thankful for? The chance to get this text on Thanksgiving morning.
One more thing. Teresa got several replies on her text later in the day. Her reply to those replies: "Thank you for your thanks on Thanksgiving Day."
I told her she was a poet and didn't even know it.
I'm not sure how many people she sent it to, but it was a mass text, so I have a feeling it was quite a few. Teresa is still on schedule for her discharge from Colorado Acute Long Term Hospital in Denver on Dec. 13. If that happens, she will be three days shy of her admittance to this facility. She has been in various hospitals since October 2010.
Here's her text:
"Happy Thanksgiving! Well I will be home in less than three weeks. Can't believe I've spent one year of my life here. In dog years that is 7 years and I have 8 more years to live if I was a cat. Needless to say I won't be eating dog or cat chow on this fine day of thanks.
"Over the past year here I have been extremely thankful for many things. First of all I'm thankful to my Lord who didn't take me when I had a fever of 104.2 and delirious. I thank him for my daughter, Cassie, who sat in the corner and watched her mother cry out that she wanted to die. My mom for listening to her daughter curse like a sailor and hold my hand through the delirium. Most of all my husband, Rich, who stuck through all of this wondering why my wife doesn't recognize me and listened to me bitch and moan. To Beth who started my fundraiser and texts me everyday ... and to the rest of my family and friends, thank you for all of the prayers, calls and texts.
"Thank you again for all things good and bad. Remember the glass is half full and ENJOY LIFE BECAUSE YOU CAN!
"Teresa"
I'm not sure I could have said it better. Without all of the above (along with her care here at the hospital) and her determination to beat this, I'm not sure that Teresa would be here to give thanks. We also can't be more thankful to all of the prayers said by friends, family and even on Facebook from people Teresa has never met. We won't name names any further just so we don't leave anybody out. Hopefully, you know who you are and God bless you.
Teresa asked me what I wanted for Christmas the other day and I said, "I just want you to be home." Teresa didn't really buy that answer, but it is true. I finally said that we're going to concentrate on a few things for the kitchen ... new stove and dishwasher and eventually a new refrigerator; things that we've been needing for a long time but will also help her in her recovery.
What am I thankful for? The chance to get this text on Thanksgiving morning.
One more thing. Teresa got several replies on her text later in the day. Her reply to those replies: "Thank you for your thanks on Thanksgiving Day."
I told her she was a poet and didn't even know it.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Preparing to come home
Every day presents a new challenge for Teresa and her recovery. Under no circumstances do we take anything for granted these days.
With that said, everything is a go for her discharge from the Colorado Acute Long Term Hospital on Dec. 13. Teresa is still a paraplegic, but she has shown good improvement and we're hoping and praying that in this next month she will continue to do so.
The plan is for her to come home. If that happens, it will be the first time she has set foot in our house in 14 months. If she is home for Christmas, it will be the first time she will be able to celebrate at home with family in three years. Two years ago she had complications from her back fusion and they had to go back in for surgery two days before Christmas. Last year she was just beginning her stay at Colorado Acute. Just a week after Christmas, she had her bowel diverticulum surgery that really sent her in a health tailspin.
As could be expected, Teresa will be coming home to a different house that she left or has lived in for about 18 years. This house was obviously not built (late 1950s) for the disabled. The doorways are small and the bathroom is not much more than the size of a big closet.
She'll be in a wheelchair. The hope is that she graduates to a walker and then be able to walk on her own. It's like a doctor told me one day, "Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst." If Teresa never gets on her feet on her own, we have to deal with it.
Because of that, there's a ton of work to be done to get her ready to come home. The idea is to make it as comfortable as possible so she can begin a new life. She deserves it.
In all that, we have decided to make some other changes as well. I have been working as a news copy editor at the Wyoming Tribune Eagle since March 2010. I gave my notice last week and will finish out my job there on Sunday.
I had decided a while back that once Teresa was able to come home, I would too, in a sense. Although I never left Laramie, it often seemed like it commuting to Cheyenne every day (and coming home after midnight) and then spending my days off in Denver. Under no circumstances would I continue to do that with Teresa home. Although I will work, I need to be at just 5 minutes away instead of 45 minutes (or more in bad weather or stranded in Cheyenne). I couldn't handle it.
It's a scary situation quiting a job with benefits before getting another one, especially these days. I have some possible opportunities in the works, but nothing concrete in comparison financially.
The other night I had talked to Teresa on the telephone and a few minutes later she texted me back asking me if something was bothering me. She said I sounded depressed.
I admitted that I had been thinking about things (life) and I had guessed that I was just anxious. Of course, I didn't have to explain anxious to my wife. I would imagine that every minute of her life now is that way for her.
But she asked me anyway why I was anxious.
Let's see, I said. "There's money (getting another job), getting the house ready in time (physically and financially) and of course, you coming home and your health. That should probably do it for a while."
As could be expected, Teresa was able to knock some sense back into me like she always does.
"Quit worrying," she texted. "We will be able to eat. We will not lose our house. No one will sleep on the floor except Sam (our dog). Now comes the fun part. We will be a family again and have Xmas together. I get to take care of you. No worries. Have an Ativan."
No Ativan for me. My wife makes me feel better. And sleep. I can't wait for both to come home.
With that said, everything is a go for her discharge from the Colorado Acute Long Term Hospital on Dec. 13. Teresa is still a paraplegic, but she has shown good improvement and we're hoping and praying that in this next month she will continue to do so.
The plan is for her to come home. If that happens, it will be the first time she has set foot in our house in 14 months. If she is home for Christmas, it will be the first time she will be able to celebrate at home with family in three years. Two years ago she had complications from her back fusion and they had to go back in for surgery two days before Christmas. Last year she was just beginning her stay at Colorado Acute. Just a week after Christmas, she had her bowel diverticulum surgery that really sent her in a health tailspin.
As could be expected, Teresa will be coming home to a different house that she left or has lived in for about 18 years. This house was obviously not built (late 1950s) for the disabled. The doorways are small and the bathroom is not much more than the size of a big closet.
She'll be in a wheelchair. The hope is that she graduates to a walker and then be able to walk on her own. It's like a doctor told me one day, "Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst." If Teresa never gets on her feet on her own, we have to deal with it.
Because of that, there's a ton of work to be done to get her ready to come home. The idea is to make it as comfortable as possible so she can begin a new life. She deserves it.
In all that, we have decided to make some other changes as well. I have been working as a news copy editor at the Wyoming Tribune Eagle since March 2010. I gave my notice last week and will finish out my job there on Sunday.
I had decided a while back that once Teresa was able to come home, I would too, in a sense. Although I never left Laramie, it often seemed like it commuting to Cheyenne every day (and coming home after midnight) and then spending my days off in Denver. Under no circumstances would I continue to do that with Teresa home. Although I will work, I need to be at just 5 minutes away instead of 45 minutes (or more in bad weather or stranded in Cheyenne). I couldn't handle it.
It's a scary situation quiting a job with benefits before getting another one, especially these days. I have some possible opportunities in the works, but nothing concrete in comparison financially.
The other night I had talked to Teresa on the telephone and a few minutes later she texted me back asking me if something was bothering me. She said I sounded depressed.
I admitted that I had been thinking about things (life) and I had guessed that I was just anxious. Of course, I didn't have to explain anxious to my wife. I would imagine that every minute of her life now is that way for her.
But she asked me anyway why I was anxious.
Let's see, I said. "There's money (getting another job), getting the house ready in time (physically and financially) and of course, you coming home and your health. That should probably do it for a while."
As could be expected, Teresa was able to knock some sense back into me like she always does.
"Quit worrying," she texted. "We will be able to eat. We will not lose our house. No one will sleep on the floor except Sam (our dog). Now comes the fun part. We will be a family again and have Xmas together. I get to take care of you. No worries. Have an Ativan."
No Ativan for me. My wife makes me feel better. And sleep. I can't wait for both to come home.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Ghost kids in Teresa's hospital
In Teresa's hospital in Denver there is talk about the facility being a little haunted. Haunted in the sense that there have been sightings of ghost children, particularly of a little girl on the sixth floor.
The sixth floor is currently being renovated into a short-term nursing home. At one time, it was a pediatric ward.
The rumor is a little girl died in the elevator. Evidently, she still hangs around, constantly roaming the halls.
At some point somebody got a picture of her, which resembled mostly a shadow. But several people have verified that they have seen her.
Teresa, meanwhile, believes she has seen a shadow figure of a little boy playing at the foot of her bed. She's even talked to him, asking what his name is and what he is doing. The boy has never answered, but he has apparently shut the bathroom door, the main door and shaken the blinds on the window when the window was closed. Teresa said she is going to call him Bobby the next time he appears.
At other times, he has apparently scared some of the nurses to the point where they are afraid to go in certain rooms. There have also been various reports of doors slamming and elevator doors opening with no one there.
About three weeks ago, Teresa was puttering around in her electric wheelchair and by mistake she went up to the sixth floor. It was in the elevator where she had an accident and the door smashed her leg, cutting it and actually breaking her fibula bone.
Teresa believes the ghost girl tried to help her by getting a construction worker's attention and he helped get Teresa back down to the fourth floor for some help.
Although one could also suggest that the girl ghost was trying to hurt Teresa by shutting the door on her, she thinks that the girl is a friendly ghost.
With it being Halloween, the ghost kids might do a little trick-or-treating tonight. It's a good thing we have plenty of candy.
The sixth floor is currently being renovated into a short-term nursing home. At one time, it was a pediatric ward.
The rumor is a little girl died in the elevator. Evidently, she still hangs around, constantly roaming the halls.
At some point somebody got a picture of her, which resembled mostly a shadow. But several people have verified that they have seen her.
Teresa, meanwhile, believes she has seen a shadow figure of a little boy playing at the foot of her bed. She's even talked to him, asking what his name is and what he is doing. The boy has never answered, but he has apparently shut the bathroom door, the main door and shaken the blinds on the window when the window was closed. Teresa said she is going to call him Bobby the next time he appears.
At other times, he has apparently scared some of the nurses to the point where they are afraid to go in certain rooms. There have also been various reports of doors slamming and elevator doors opening with no one there.
About three weeks ago, Teresa was puttering around in her electric wheelchair and by mistake she went up to the sixth floor. It was in the elevator where she had an accident and the door smashed her leg, cutting it and actually breaking her fibula bone.
Teresa believes the ghost girl tried to help her by getting a construction worker's attention and he helped get Teresa back down to the fourth floor for some help.
Although one could also suggest that the girl ghost was trying to hurt Teresa by shutting the door on her, she thinks that the girl is a friendly ghost.
With it being Halloween, the ghost kids might do a little trick-or-treating tonight. It's a good thing we have plenty of candy.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Nichole Rider, an inspiration
My wife Teresa and I had the pleasure of meeting and visiting with former Cowgirl basketball player Nichole Rider Tuesday in Teresa's hospital room in Denver.
Nichole is truly an inspiration. During her senior year with the Cowgirls in the mid 1990s, Nichole was in an automobile accident that left her partially paralyzed. She went from a 50 percent chance of not making it through the night to where she is today. Again, truly an inspiration.
Although they had never met each other until Tuesday, Teresa and Nichole have a lot in common. Both played for the Cowgirls and both have gone through life and death medical issues that no one can really understand unless you go through it.
As it turned out, we visited for 5 1/2 hours and if not for the lateness, I think we could have talked all night. We both enjoyed her visit tremendously and I know Teresa benefited from it emotionally as well.
In early August Nichole was featured on the UW athletics website on their "Where Are They Now? segment.
Nichole Rider, Where Are They Now?
You can also read about Nichole's sailing adventures, with this link on her sailing from the site cleverpig.
Nichole is truly an inspiration. During her senior year with the Cowgirls in the mid 1990s, Nichole was in an automobile accident that left her partially paralyzed. She went from a 50 percent chance of not making it through the night to where she is today. Again, truly an inspiration.
Although they had never met each other until Tuesday, Teresa and Nichole have a lot in common. Both played for the Cowgirls and both have gone through life and death medical issues that no one can really understand unless you go through it.
As it turned out, we visited for 5 1/2 hours and if not for the lateness, I think we could have talked all night. We both enjoyed her visit tremendously and I know Teresa benefited from it emotionally as well.
In early August Nichole was featured on the UW athletics website on their "Where Are They Now? segment.
Nichole Rider, Where Are They Now?
You can also read about Nichole's sailing adventures, with this link on her sailing from the site cleverpig.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Tebow, Tebow, Tebow, Tebow ...
The signs say it all on I-25 & 58th. Maybe they should also put up signs saying, "John Fox, get a running game." Or how about, "John Fox, shore up your defense."
More than likely, John Fox doesn't even drive by 1-25 & 58th. It's too far north of the Broncos' facility or even the former Invesco Field at Mile High Stadium. Maybe somebody should have thought of that a little earlier.
I'm wondering if this just isn't sports talk radio conspiracy. The talking heads say they don't want Tebow as the starting quarterback and it is annoying when the Tebow zombies call up demanding that he become their starting quarterback.
But they continue to yammer on the subject 24-7. Do they hate it? Again, Garth says .... not!!!
TTBC ... Tebow to be continued.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Life is one day at a time
There's a sports cliché that coaches and athletes love.
One day at a time.
"We're just going to take it one day at a time," the coach says about the rest of the season.
Throughout the years, most sportscasters or sportswriters just kind of roll their eyes when they hear it. Sometimes you get that coach or player who says it so much you can basically count on it at some point during each interview.
Sometimes I wonder if the fact that Teresa is a former Division I athlete, and I've been a sportswriter for over half of my life, that the term "one day at a time" really fits us.
When talking about Teresa's health, despite some very positive improvements in the last couple of months, we still live one day at a time. Basically, each day we really don't know what will happen.
A couple of months ago, Teresa hit a bad spell where her temperatures rose to an alarming 104 degrees and doctors told me to prepare for the worst. For the most part, it has appeared that the doctors have gotten a handle of it.
Then early Tuesday her temperature spiked to 102 again. It appears that her prednisone steroid was dropped too much. Doctors have been weening her down from 80 milligrams a day to currently about 18 (9 in the morning and 9 at night). At times it has been too much of a drop for her body to handle and she has gone into an adrenal crisis. Recently, it mistakenly went from 9 to 7 and it happened again.
That mistake could have been more serious but Teresa had the mindset and determination that she would not let it get worse, and it didn't. She's doing better now but that scare is always there.
Her kidney specialists now are worried that the years of steroids might have fried her adrenal glands, which could hurt her kidney function.
Now the infectious disease doctors are saying that she has at least three more months on the antibiotic before they can evaluate her status. A couple of weeks ago, we were thinking it could be late October or in November. So much for handing out candy at Halloween or having Thanksgiving dinner at home. The goal now is to be home for Christmas.
One day at a time.
I often get asked, "So, how are you doing?" in reference to how I am handling things. Often, I just shrug my shoulders and say "OK, I guess"
What am I supposed to say?
There are times when I feel the walls crashing down on me. I watch a television show and laugh and then feel guilty about it.
But all I can do is keep going. I have to.
I have to be strong, both physically and mentally for Teresa's sake. I have to drive every day the 45 miles to work in Cheyenne, then drive home at 1 a.m. When it's my day off, I drive to Denver. That last part isn't a have to; it's a want to.
I told Teresa the other day that I think I know what to tell people when they ask me how I am doing.
I'll just say,"I'm tired."
Simple as that.
But I can't be tired. When she comes home, I have to be here. I have to get the house ready. It needs a lot of work and remodeling just for her to come home and get around. I have to be here to help her physically. I can't if I'm not in good shape. I need to lose weight. My back is killing me. I have to take care of it. I have to get stronger.
I have to and I will. Actually, we will together.
One day at a time.
One day at a time.
"We're just going to take it one day at a time," the coach says about the rest of the season.
Throughout the years, most sportscasters or sportswriters just kind of roll their eyes when they hear it. Sometimes you get that coach or player who says it so much you can basically count on it at some point during each interview.
Sometimes I wonder if the fact that Teresa is a former Division I athlete, and I've been a sportswriter for over half of my life, that the term "one day at a time" really fits us.
When talking about Teresa's health, despite some very positive improvements in the last couple of months, we still live one day at a time. Basically, each day we really don't know what will happen.
A couple of months ago, Teresa hit a bad spell where her temperatures rose to an alarming 104 degrees and doctors told me to prepare for the worst. For the most part, it has appeared that the doctors have gotten a handle of it.
Then early Tuesday her temperature spiked to 102 again. It appears that her prednisone steroid was dropped too much. Doctors have been weening her down from 80 milligrams a day to currently about 18 (9 in the morning and 9 at night). At times it has been too much of a drop for her body to handle and she has gone into an adrenal crisis. Recently, it mistakenly went from 9 to 7 and it happened again.
That mistake could have been more serious but Teresa had the mindset and determination that she would not let it get worse, and it didn't. She's doing better now but that scare is always there.
Her kidney specialists now are worried that the years of steroids might have fried her adrenal glands, which could hurt her kidney function.
Now the infectious disease doctors are saying that she has at least three more months on the antibiotic before they can evaluate her status. A couple of weeks ago, we were thinking it could be late October or in November. So much for handing out candy at Halloween or having Thanksgiving dinner at home. The goal now is to be home for Christmas.
One day at a time.
I often get asked, "So, how are you doing?" in reference to how I am handling things. Often, I just shrug my shoulders and say "OK, I guess"
What am I supposed to say?
There are times when I feel the walls crashing down on me. I watch a television show and laugh and then feel guilty about it.
But all I can do is keep going. I have to.
I have to be strong, both physically and mentally for Teresa's sake. I have to drive every day the 45 miles to work in Cheyenne, then drive home at 1 a.m. When it's my day off, I drive to Denver. That last part isn't a have to; it's a want to.
I told Teresa the other day that I think I know what to tell people when they ask me how I am doing.
I'll just say,"I'm tired."
Simple as that.
But I can't be tired. When she comes home, I have to be here. I have to get the house ready. It needs a lot of work and remodeling just for her to come home and get around. I have to be here to help her physically. I can't if I'm not in good shape. I need to lose weight. My back is killing me. I have to take care of it. I have to get stronger.
I have to and I will. Actually, we will together.
One day at a time.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Put Tebow in. Yeah, that's it
The fascination with Tim Tebow in Denver is mind numbing.
So I'll just make something up.
Tebow has arguably shown in practice and in games that he is not starting quarterback material in the NFL. At least that's what the experts tell us.
To them, he is just a marketing joke. Check his jersey sales.
To his fans, he is the savior, no pun intended or disrespect to his strong religious beliefs.
If you read the letters to the editor, listen to the sports talk shows, see all of the No. 15 jerseys around town and hear the jeers in the stands at the former Invesco Field at Mile High Stadium, his not starting at quarterback is the only solution.
Kyle Orton is no good. Brady Quinn is no good. Tim Tebow is good.
The argument is that he is a winner, that the Broncos are going no where, so why not give him a chance? He couldn't do any worse, right?
The problem is, the Tebow fanatics refuse to believe what most NFL coaches and experts say about his passing skills, or lack of them.
Those experts constantly talk about the flaws in his delivery, that his style doesn't compute in the NFL game.
They're probably right. After all, they are the experts and if it's on the Internet, it has to be right.
They're probably right. After all, they are the experts and if it's on the Internet, it has to be right.
When the Broncos opened the season with a 23-20 loss to the hated Raiders in front of a Monday Night Football national audience, the thousands and thousands of Tebow-wearing-jersey-fans stated their case in ways that would make a sailor just back from a couple of months at sea blush. Monday night's game was not a Denver Chamber of Commerce moment.
Tebow followers must have been right. There's no way that the Broncos are a bad team because they can't stop the run on defense, that they have no running game and that they make way too many silly mental mistakes.
It's got to be that they lost because Tim Tebow wasn't playing.
For most fans, winning is what matters. Obviously, the Broncos haven't done a lot of that lately. I'm wondering, though, if that really matters to some.
Fans are flooding the phone lines, writing their poison pen letters, demanding that John Fox and John Elway make the change now.
Maybe they should.
Why not just trade Orton to, say, the Seahawks, get a couple of high draft picks for next year and put Wonder Boy in the lineup? That will solve everything.
Or it won't.
Maybe they should just realize that it is only the first game of the season.
Naw, Orton sucks. Tebow! Tebow! Tebow!
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