I don’t often want to complain (or feel like I am complainin’) on this blog. I try to keep it light and family friendly.
But there is an aspect of blief.net that serves as a journal of events. So, years from now I might go back and recall Bork Uncle or reread one of my more popular posts about Dandelions.

This is one of those posts.

I don’t want to remember to drink plenty of water.
I don’t do want to forget the pain.
I don’t want to forget the day “Dada Had a Kidney Stone”.

I am still not clear as to whether “events” have passed, as it were, but right now I am relatively pain free and happy to write about it and share more than I ever thought I might.

Monday I noticed the telltale signs. I will spare you details as this is still a happy blog and not rooted in medical reality. Sometimes I like to push the truth around for artistic effect but let’s just say there was stuff in there that shouldn’t be in there – and you know urine you’re in trouble when it looks like coca-cola.

By Wednesday afternoon I had met with my doctor and some analysis strongly suggested that indeed “Dada Had a Kidney Stone”. Wednesday night there was little left to dispute.

Pain
The worst pain in my short life. After waking up Monya for yet another babysitting stint at oh-dark-thirty The Mommy drove me to the ER, the good one…in Bellevue.
I tell you that even knowing how much I detest the close one I wasn’t sure it was the right choice about 1/2 way there. Turns out it probably was. Remembering just how long The Mommy waited for pain relief when she had her appendix out we probably did a darn sight better at Overlake, even with the drive.

I digress.
The Mommy, by the way, was not happy with the reversal of fortunes. She (and we) are much more accustomed to the shoes being on the others foot. Now she knows why I speed drive hurriedly in those situations and now I know why she yells at me when I do.

Back on track
So, here I am, writhing in pain (the nurses words not mine) and the docs are discussing which pain meds to administer, about where they might get it, and who should do it.
Mind you, they were doing this expeditiously I am sure, but in my state of mind time was elongated and every word took ten times longer to travel through the air. Mine didn’t. I answered questions before they finished their statements with single, clipped, answers.

Mr. Writhing-in-Pain, are you allerg…
NO
…ic to any medica…ok.

Have you ever had a kid…
NO
…ney stone bef…ok.

Do you have a primary care phy…
CELMER – C.E.L.M.E.R
sician…ok.

I have to mention that on the way to the ER I was thinking about just how much medicine I wanted them to give me. I thought, “just enough to knock the top off of this” I don’t want to be so whacked out on some crazy drug that I can’t feel anything.

By the time the nurse finally got to the point where she was about to put the needle in my arm I didn’t care if, in fact I was wishing for, an entire dose that could stop a rhino. She said

You’re gonna feel a…
FINE
…big poke.

I didn’t feel anything, in my arm anyway. In fact, if it would have meant whacking off my arm at the elbow in order to get better access to a vein I would have agreed.

Finally, about 2-3 minutes (that felt like about thirty) after they gave me the painkiller in the IV I was brought down to a level where I could speak in full sentences.

No more writhing
So they took me in for a CT scan, for verification purposes, and the doc later tells me that it is pretty small, only 2mm. “Yer gonna be fine.” Like somehow because it is small I don’t have bragging rights or something. Fine whatever. I have since learned that the tube it is in (the ureter) is around 3-4 mm in diameter. He probably said I would be fine knowing that my stone wasn’t nearly as big as my ureter. Based on my experience I would venture that the measurement they are taking is outside diameter.

Now 2 mm is about the size of the head of a pin – just what does that mean? I looked it up, for your benefit and find that it is about the size of the head of a pin.

Hm…I don’t think that quite cuts it. That just doesn’t do it justice. It’s too smooth, too simple.

I imagine it looks more like this.

Or even this.

But it ends up feeling more like this.

And that’s even in the right spot too.

Okay, enough reliving the pain.
Enough complaining.
This too shall pass.

Let’s get this party started again.
Last month, already, we made our 4th Annual pilgrimage to Leavenworth with a set of friends (and family) we have known for, well, longer than we haven’t known ‘em.

The most interesting thing is that Leavenworth this year was on the slopes of Mt. Rainier, in Ashford.
You might ask how we managed that and you would be, if you know the area, a wee bit confused.

Well confuse ya no longer ye map headed varmint!
Know this; When you are speaking of an event that has taken on epic proportions with 11 kids and 10, uh, heavier and older kids, the place becomes less relevant and the memories it evokes, the laughter that ensues (and mostly the fact that the kids don’t know one place from the other cause the snow is the same all around) means we call it by it’s name, the whole weekend is just known as Leavenworth.

This Leavenworth cabin was the best facility for size, variety, and proximity so far. The kids had the run of the place, no fearful spiral staircases, steep dropoffs into frozen rivers, or lackluster flatlands. There was plenty of good runs for a tube save one problem. Snow.

There wasn’t any.

In an El Niño world even the foothills of the great mountain fail to produce and this was that year. Not to be dissuaded, the bigger, heavier kids packed the smaller ones into their respective vehicles and braved car-sickness all the way to Paradise.

See here, a progression of sledding that landed three snow-sailors on their un-muffled ears.

Upon closer inspection, you can see that the Leading Seaman has her eyes closed which doesn’t bode well for any ship.

Further, you will notice that the Coxswain is distracted by events amidships and has no hand on the tiller. Speaking of amidships, you may recognize those boots as belonging to the Midshipman who might rightly be referred to as “dragging anchor”.

After some effort the ship was set to rights and the team set off once again…blind to the front.

Here we see the Captain, and her first mate, in their luxury quarters with proper attire.

Frankly, few hats and gloves were required. Paradise nearly lived up to it’s tropical name despite the snow.

Back at the ranch, later that night, we corralled the restless natives for a moment on the red carpet with the paparazzi.

This morning I stopped and helped a fellow biker, in the I-90 tunnel. He broke his tire lever on his 4th flat tire of the morning.
As I rode away from that short rest I thought I should have just given him that one because I have two, they are practically disposable items. Oh well.
Compare and contrast that with what happened next; about 15 minutes later on the waterfront.

I was riding a little quickly, near the 15mph speed limit, for the multi-use trail alongside the road but not recklessly.
I usually choose the road because there are just too many pedestrians and entrances on that trail but today there was a ferry, so the trail, while slower than the traffic is actually less hectic.
Approaching the condos, at the foot of the harbor steps, I approached a couple walking their two poodles.
Their right side (my left) was no good because of another pedestrian and I momentarily wished against the multi-use trail.
I kid you not, everything I describe went through my brain in this order…seriously.

Just then, when I was about 40 yards out, the woman moved hard left (to my right towards the steps) and the man briefly did not.
It was at this point that I was off the “gas” and thinking about alternatives and briefly across the transom of my mind flashed this thought

That guy is belligerently hogging the trail with his dog

Maybe that is about the same time I wished against the multi-use trail.
But as suddenly as I thought it, and two steps later the man also moved hard left – I am about 20-30 yards away now – going an estimated 13-14mph.
Okay, clear road, back on the gas and

BAM

The guy jumps, and I mean literally leaps, back into my path, right where he was, and points at me with his free hand kinda like this.

Only he didn’t have big poofy hair, a robe, and he was caucasian. But the face was eerily similar and amazingly he made as much noise as this picture…none.

I slammed on my brakes, which are actually pretty mushy with wet and dirt and overuse. I slowed to walking speed just three feet in front of him, still in this pose-

and then just as abruptly he non-chalantly assumed a more natural position and walked away with his poodle.

I don’t scare easily, or react abruptly to stimuli such as this (that might be a bad thing…depends on the scenario) so I don’t think he got his desired effect which I can only assume was to make me wreck.
I did get a healthy shot of adrenaline which was released in a string of unprintable words which I can’t remember ever having strung together in exactly that manner before.
Probably not my finest moment – definitely not his.

Another thought that instinctively crossed my mind was to attack him from the back and just as quickly that thought passed.
It’s a good thing it did because the ref always penalizes the second guy and, in the end, he wasn’t worth the wrestle.

Backed over it with the car.

It took me a couple weeks to get around to this but my fans have spoken and get to it I must.

The Wee One was a little anxious about going to meet Santa Claus but with the reassurance of La Grande Mermaid she picked herself up by her glass slipper straps (and Minnie Mouse ears) and did the event justice.
You may recall that last year she cried so hard and kneecapped poor Santa with her ruby size eights.

With Abby in her tutu and Mommy in her cap we all settled in for a good Seattle flap.

After Santa we lunched, rode the carousel, and rode princess-style in a horse drawn carriage. The Wee One illustrated a bona fide princess wave and had enough elbow-wrist for us all.

Then, after a long day downtown, we rode the light rail home. Lots of special rides, a successful Santa event, and all is ready for the holiday to officially arrive.

First of all this morning my bike thermostat read -11.1C when I got on the train. My finger thermostat read “That’s cold.”

Next, on the way down the hill my rear derailer failed, or rather the cable failed and I thought it froze. I was stuck in my 11 tooth cog. For the unintiated that means it was really hard to pedal away from a stop and impossible to climb steep hills.

For the visuals in the audience; think about what it would be like to push your kitchen chair across the floor with a straw.

Anyway, once I got onto the train there were *amazingly* two other crazies bikes.

Great! Maybe one of them will have an idea that’ll help.

There was also this other guy I see a lot; just a regular passenger (read as “stealth” biker). So I attacked my derailer with a fervor to see if I could pull it into a less straw-breaking gear.

The thing about the rear derailer is that it is held in place by the cable and when the cable fails (not frozen) it “defaults” to bottom, the derailer spring is doing it’s work with no resistance.

So the biker says

You need some tension on that thing.

No chance and no help.

Then the stealth biker pipes up

When that happens to me I have just wedged a piece of wood in the mechanism to keep it where I want – in a “higher” gear.

Brilliant! I didn’t have wood but I had some tools. And a few short minutes later I am rolling in my 13 tooth cog. Much more managable for starting what is currently a single speed bike. Visually speaking, we just put a blanket underneath the chair.

I don’t have much time so I am going to make this quick.

The Fat Cyclist jokingly applied for a job as a pro racer with Team RadioShack (think Lance Armstrong), the GM of Team Radioshack (Johan) took him up on it but only if he could raise $20K in a week in donations to LiveStrong and World Bicycle Relief (WBR) fund.

In something like 48 hours the amazing community of Fat Cyclist readers breached that goal and Johan upped the ante, giving Fatty a Trek Madone (REALLY nice race bike) if he made a total of $25K in WBR.

Fatty turned around and put that bike up as a prize in a raffle that you get an entry into the drawing for every $5 you donate. He (and Gary Fisher) also donated a Gary Fisher Superfly (REALLY nice road bike) in the mix if donations reached $25K to LiveStrong.

The ink was literally barely dry, one couldn’t even write a post about THAT contest and the $25K goals were met in both – somebody will win a Madone and somebody will win a SuperFly (custom painted in Fatty colors).

So Trek upped the ante again – doubled it. If Fatty could get $100K in combined donations to LiveStrong and WBR then they would send one lucky donater to Paris to watch the end of the Tour de France in 2010, all expenses paid.

AND as of right now, with still Wed, Thu, and Fri to go, the combined total is north of $93 THOUSAND!

Fatty is a money raising “dynamo” as one of his commenters put it.
LiveStrong (cancer) and WBR (bikes for kids in Africa) are getting huge donation influxes for excellent causes.
Somebodies are going to win some awesome prizes.
Fatty is going to train with TeamRadioShack for a day this coming weekend (the original bet).

And this is just freakin fun to watch transpire.

If you want in or just want to see what happens next head over to and dive in!

I must be getting older – I am already making plans for next June.
In this case it is for a good reason, cancer.

You may recall last July 2nd a friend of mine passed away from cancer. Just the month before he passed away I rode in the 2009 Livestrong challenge and it was a really powerful experience for a lot of reasons.

Along the way I found out that a lot of people I know have cancer, have had cancer, or died from cancer but before Johnny Carbaugh became ill I had either not known about it or not paid close enough attention to it all.
I should have, and I know about it now by gum.
I aim to keep doing something about it.

Next June 20th, 2010 I will ride 100 miles in honor of the following people in the Seattle Livestrong Challenge (note: this post may be updated to add more people to this list* because it would be foolish of me to think that I got everyone.)

These are my family and friends, both survivors and departed, afflicted with a pretty wicked disease.

Holy cow! I didn’t even know I knew that many people!

I can’t think of a better reason to join in the fight against cancer than this. If you would like to contribute to The LiveStrong Foundation, Team Fatty, or just me, Lief Zimmerman you can do that here.

—
* I sorted the list alphabetically by first name and grouped them as deceased and survivors; if you see an error or would like to add/modify this list let me know.

The Wee One woke up this morning with an urgent service call and yummy legs after a fun and perhaps over-long day yesterday; I will post more on that later.

Actually only one leg was yum and so The Mommy stretched it out for her and massaged it a little bit so that it wasn’t yummy anymore.

I am glad The Mommy was already in the field to take this particular call as I would have required tier three support, for a definition of yummy, and the customers legs would have stayed yummy and tingly well beyond our service level agreement (SLA) for an operation of this nature.

Now that I have placed this episode in the knowledge base repository any tier-one technician should be able to appropriately resolve a service call like this.

Note: Successful resolution assumes adequate understanding of the localized dialect associated with the colloquialism* at oh five hundred in a fog of sleep without adequate lighting, corrected vision, or proper footwear**.

* There is a high level threat that the colloquialism is further obfuscated by the continued use of an oral obstruction device ( OOD) made of plastic or gum of arabic and sugar.

** Technician must be adequately trained to ignore sharp pain inflicted on the instep of a bare foot by heavy and/or hard foreign particles such as an OED (Oxford English Dictionary) or IBD (Improvised Barbie Doll). Legos and jacks are also known to work well for this application.

No I am not a supplier of military equipment. I simply felt like saying “thanks” using a colloquialism; not sure why really.
Anyway, over coffee this morning The Mommy and I listened to the mermaids in the bath giggling and we both knew, without question we were most thankful for our mermaids, healthy and happy. Even when, moments later, that giggle turned into a spat of some sort.

Other thoughts that flew through my head:
Rain – cool refreshing rain. I like that.
Pearberry candles or Pearberry lotion. Hmm, a perfect smell.
Toilet paper – so under appreciated in this time of hi-tech gadgetry it deserves honorable mention.

Memories – Backups and error logs and somebody else monitoring my blogs’ security (hopefully) so that all of these memories I have stored for posterity can persist a while and remind me of things I am, and was, thankful for in the past.

Happy thanksgiving.