The Big Leap - Post #4

Yes kids can be completely and totally relentless at exercising their will over anything and everything. Not necessarily a bad characteristic provided it is tempered with a little humble humility and a most excellent sense of right and wrong. Even better, once they have survived their teens and moved outta y'er house. It is the last thing you look for in a pack of ravenous six year olds.

To recap, I had found myself, through a series of bad decisions, heavily out numbered and overwhelmed by seven, very young chilluns all running amok in the back yard. They were hungry, wanted the beanie off the roof and continued with a lot of verbal insubordination regarding both issues, aimed directly at me. The entire bunch was on me like a pack of hyenas on a downed gnu.  "Yes I'm working on dinner. Yes, hot dogs for everyone. Yes Pat too, even if he did throw the beanie on the roof by A accident".  (I was beginning to speak like 'em). And "No! I will NOT be going on the roof to get the beanie. Absolutely not permitted under all rules regarding kid maintenance. No Ifs, Ands or Buts". 

Now I don't know a lot about kid sitting and I haven't actually read any rules, but I am quite sure that 'Do Not Climb On Roof" to get a birds eye view of the critters play-by-play, has gotta be in the top twenty of anyones Thou Shall Not List, if not the top five.

I DID HAVE IT RIGHT AT FIRST!!!!! WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED????

 Looking back, I can quite comfortably understand that heading to the roof for any reason what so ever, whilst tending kids, is completely unacceptable. And take it from me, should you choose to do so, you will have no defence what so ever, when the Sheriff returns to town.  

In the spirit of absolute honesty, when I came up with that whole "Why don't you head on over to the gym" thing, I did have somewhat of a selfish, ulterior motive buried,  not so deep in my muddled subconscious. While it is true that I love my Angel dearly, on all levels of our relationship, and I did truly want to assist her with some relaxation time, I was mostly thinking......... it's Friday night. The weekend. If I step up on this, the odds on 'une petit morceau de grand d'amour' later tonight, will be greatly enhanced.

So I had the bucket of Madras smoking on the stove 'cause she hasn't been stirred in some time. The hot dogs and their fixin's as far as the table outside. The Q still remains unlit. The washing machine was honking it's horn calling for soap or softener or some other, God knows what, and the phone just kept on ringing. And ringing. And ringing. A  lot.  I though I still had all this under control, but the reality couldn't have been further from the truth. I just hadn't recognised it yet. 

None of  all that was the major concern. The real issue here was I had begun to weaken. And the irrefutable conclusion had by now, settled front and centre. These kids are not going to let this beanie thing go until he/she/it is rescued and back in the game. Yes, yes I tried to decoy 'em with everything I had. Balls of all shapes and sizes. A foamy Nerf, puck like thing and hockey sticks galore. A Frisbee. A back yard full of toys, toys, Toys, TOYS!! And I even tried my best Bait and Switch on 'em cause, after all, I am A SALESMEN GODDAMMIT!! AND A GOOD ONE AT THAT!!! Or so I thought.  Nuthin worked. Nada. Zippo. Forget it. Should have just lit that Q and fed 'em.

But kids are relentless. Overwhelming brutal in their assault.  Grinding and grating non stop. Wearing you down until all common sense has long since fluttered away and you are reduced to instinctive, primal behaviour, completely bereft of rational, clear thought. As was explained by the pack, ad nausium, the beanie was as much a part of the game as any of the kids. You couldn't have one of the kids not play, so how could you expect the beanie to sit on the bench? I'm sure he/she/it was expected to join 'em for dinner! I guess I'm just not thinking like a kid. Unfortunately though, by this time, I'd all but caved. I'm now behaving like a two year old. Shoulda put Bubba in charge.

I head to the garage for the ladder. Shouda gone in, closed the door, turned on the car and breathed deep. T'wood have been easier.

A week earlier, my neighbour had borrowed my ladder. She's a beaut! The ladder that is. A twenty footer, telescoping, all aluminium. That's what good neighbours do. Lend stuff and bring it all back. And I have always prided myself on excellent relations with neighbours. Now I'll admit, I'm usually on the 'borrowing' side of the equation, 'cause I guess I'm less of a "Tool Guy" and more of a "TOOL". But this time I'm on the lending side. And as it turns out, the pivoty, rubber-foot-pad-thingee, gets bent in the process. Neither of us noticed the damage.

I had lived in this bungalow for seven years. I have been on the roof many times. Often for cleaning the eves but I got to admit, nice view of the hood. Secluded.  Not a bad spot for quiet relaxation when trying to avoid all the nonsense goin' in the cheap seats. THAT observation , had nothing to do with my ultimate decision but somehow the ladder went up. Same place the ladder always went up. Back side of the house, left of the door, right of the picnic table. It's the lowest point of access with a good solid surface, for to which, plant said ladder. Concrete patio tile. Solid, And in spite of the beanie resting peacefully on the front side of the house, better the tried and true. Same as always n' cross the house on foot. That's the smart thing to do. Sound, logical planning. What could go wrong?

And would you believe that I was in such a rush to 'git 'er done',  I didn't even take the time to put on work boots? Would you believe...............shoes? No? Slippers? The sad truth was, I somehow came to the conclusion that it would be perfectly acceptable to do this 'as is'. Which happened to be with bare feet. Even swim fins would have been better.

I told the kids to go around to the front and wait for me there. I'd be over in a jiff. They raced off. Shoulda gone in the house and locked the door.

The twenty foot ladder rested on the roofs edge fifteen feet up. I gave 'er a couple of good shakes, checked on the angle and scampered right up. I stood, six feet above and just to the side, of the roof. Both feet on the rung and two hands on the top of the ladder. I stepped with my right foot from the rung towards the roof top and things went awry very quickly.

As soon as my weight shifted right of centre from the ladder, the bent footing gave way and the ladder slid quickly left along the roofs edge. I was thrown off balance, backwards and to the right. Away from the house, fifteen feet up, above the concrete. With no shoes. And seven kids.

If there was any good fortune to be found in any of this, it had to be the fact that I had spent the last year in serious training. And through that process, I had lost 50 pounds. I was nimble. Stupid, but nimble. The scene unfolded in what seemed like an eternity. I still have dreams about it fifteen years later. A terrifying sense of helplessness and sheer panic as to how bad this is going to end. In reality it took about two seconds, top to bottom. Not much time to consider what best to do. Granted, had I been thinking at all, I wouldn't be here.

No chance to make the roof and stick. I figured the next best bet was to try a one hundred and eighty degree turn, away from the house. Face forward so as to not land on my head or my back. I twisted in the air and as I passed by the roofs edge, I reached out with my right hand, grabbed the eves and ripped it from the house. Not enough to break the fall but maybe enough to slow things down and mitigate just a little of the damage. Right. I landed square on both feet, bent my knees and rolled forward off the patio and on to the grass. Just like I was taught. Piece of cake. Right.

Turning Up The Heat - Post #3

Back in the early days, the wife, we'll call her Angel, not cause that's her name, but just 'cause that's who  she is, ran a day care at the house. What do you do when you're at home with two kids under the age of six? Add more kids. They entertain themselves. If one of 'em manages to execute the restful afternoon nap thing, well........maybe you can actually put 'em in charge for a while. Have yourself a nap. You'll likely need it.

All joking aside, it is my humble opinion, looking after kids is one of the toughest jobs anyone could ever take on. Gotta be up there with King Crab fishing in the Bering Sea. Four years of managing just our two was challenging enough. And once you find yourself outnumbered then the going really gets rough. Alas, women seem to operate more effectively under that kind of pressure than men do, at least when it comes to herding kids. So Angel suggests day care. Jeff replies "yes dear" cause I'm a quick learner, and before you know it, our place is lousy with kids.

I continue the dance with Spike, running him to and from the do jun. Fortunately for us all, I signed up and I am now down there on the floor 'gittin' 'er done'. At first it was an unbelievably tough go. 30 Years of good living had caught up in a big way. But I shed pounds. Big time. Over the course of a year I dropped 50 pounds and I was actually ripped for the first time in my life. Hey, I was a musician, not an athlete. Spike and I were having a ball. He and I continued to attend, twice a week, together. And there  is nothing quite like a father and son sharing that kind of experience, from both our perspectives. It will always be one of my best memories. The time spent with him training, working out, sparring, practising our Kata's and, the burgers and shakes following, was, as they say, priceless.

Now as it turned out for me, like most things in life, taking that first step was the toughest obstacle in beginning something new. I took to the martial arts with a passion. The adrenalin rush was so addictive.
I soon found myself having to be there six days a week just to keep it flowing. I even began leading the class on Saturday mornings. Unfortunately, I kinda ran off helter skelter with the whole experience, leaving Spike in my wake. He and I continued for probably another year or so together, but he soon found he had other interests and moved on to, in particular, chasing music. Another passion we now both share. But he did get me started, and I loved it. I had become the fittest I had ever been. Good thing too.

Not much later, Angel is doing her thing at the house, herding the cats, late one Friday afternoon. The neighbourhood kids had all gathered at our place and are especially fired up 'cause tonight they're having a sleep over.  I had wrapped up the work week a little early and arrived home to feeding time at the zoo. With the day care crowd successfully shipped out and the new shift of street kids all playing in our back yard, I suggested, being the kind, considerate, loving partner that I am, she take a break and go to the gym. I will step up and look after this whole bunch. Piece of cake. Six chill'en. All under the age of eight. The youngest being four. Just. Fortunately she's mine and being female, they mature a lot faster than the gents. After that good nap, she could take charge. Easy. So how tough could it be? Angel's sceptical, but I am a salesman and I can be very reassuring when I want to be. 'Cides she's whipped and could use a break. I can handle this. Honestly. Yes, I'm sure.

It was a beautifully warm and sunny afternoon in suburbia. Angel is, by this time, submerged in the temperate waters of the hot tub at the club. Relaxation eminent.

Me? Not so much. I decided in the middle of looking after six kids that the laundry needed to get done. It's not enough that the kids are haranguing the shit out of me for everything imaginable, I some how figure,  I have everything under such control I needed to handicap the situation. So with the kids running around in the back yard, I throw in a load of laundry. I then put the most excellent Lamb Madras, begun the night before, on the back burner of the stove, to finish 'er up 'cause, why wouldn't you? That's dinner for tomorrow night and it's just about completed. A gentle simmer would be just the thing to finish 'er up.

With the smell of curry wafting through the house, I then decide that I'm getting a wee bit peckish. Not unheard of. It's almost dinner time. I took a quick peek out the back door to check on the kids in the yard and everything still appears to be under control. What's a real man to do when faced with cookin' dinner in suburbia? B-B-Q of course. Sunny day. Lot's o kids. Perfect. Nothing fancy mind you, after all,  I am looking after a bunch of kids here. Six no less. I know. I counted them. Fortunately the Madras had not quite reached it's peak so was still unfit for consumption.  Good thing too or I would likely have concluded that serving 'em  all the flame blazing curry was the right idea. Picture that. No, I believed that hot dogs were in order. Another very appropriate, sound decision on my part. I headed to the fridge to get the doggies and the necessary accoutrement.

Upon my return to the front lines, with my mitts full of dogs, buns, relish, mustard, and ketchup, (mustn't forget the ketchup) pop and cups,  I found the kids, and yes, I still have six, all fired up and twisted in the back yard and now they were at me, as a collective, to "Get the beanie baby Dad! We can't play the game until you get us the beanie! Pat took the beanie Dad. C'mon Dad, Please help!! What are you doing Dad? We NEEEED the beanie NOW DAD!!!!!"

Dumping the dinner assembly on the picnic table I surveyed the dozen or so of the biggest, roundest, most pleadingest eyeballs staring up at me, that I ever did see.  I calmly replied. "First of all, who's Pat? I'm sure we don't have one of those, your mother would have mentioned him at roll call and secondly what exactly did the alleged Pat do with the said beanie.?" A barage of six replies flooded in all at once, from which I hear "Pat's the kid from up the street Dad." All turn and point to the 'new' kid standing yonder, apart from our group meeting, who up to this point, I had not seen. "That's Pat. He threw it on the roof by an accident Dad. The beanie's on the roof. C'mon Dad. Hop to it Dad. The beanies on the roof! Go get 'em Dad. You can do it."

Now I don't know every thing there is to know when it comes to looking after large groups of kids, I just haven't had that much practise. And make no mistake, this was a pile of kids I had here, by any standard. I was out numbered by........well.......lots. But with looking after what I thought was six, turning out to be seven with the addition of Pat, and even if he is eight years old, he's still  a male, so that makes him more like six. Maybe. No older than the rest of them.

Now at this point in our story I'd like to point out that I do recognize it may appear to the untrained eye, that there have already been a number of bad decisions made by the adult in charge. Wait for it. You ain't seen nuthin' yet.

And so with the laundry a spinnin', the lamb a simmerin' and dinner well under way, I'm thinking
ix-nay on the bean-nay, and the whole roof ascent thing. Seemed like the right decision at the time. Fortunately I hadn't quite gotten to lighting the BBQ as of yet. Unfortunately kids, as a group, are relentless.

The Stage Is Set - Post #2

Hey all! Jeff here. I am writing you at the beginning of my third life. My first life ended back in late summer 1997 when I fell from a ladder. If you want to skip everything that follows and take away one absolute truth, that truth is, it takes two people to work a ladder. Simple enough. But I was unaware of that little gem at the time and had to learn the hard way.
I was 35 years old, living in typical suburbia, outside a typical metropolitan city, in the wondrous country that is Canada. I was not-so-long married and primary provider to an incredible wife and two young kids. My son Spike, was 6 at the time. Me daughter, Bubba, was 4.
I got up every day, way too early, and ran around like a manic trying to deal with the pressure and the stress of making it happen. And I came home way too late, all too often, even while desperately trying to irk out just a wee bit of time to spend with my lady and the kids before it all past me by. Not an easy balancing act when you consider that primary source of our income was generated by yours truly from commission based sales. Anyone that’s done that knows it’s all about a reinvention of one’s self, every minute of every day, if you want to be successful.
Now I tended to defined success on a much broader scale, which put quality time with my family at the top of that list. Followed closely by solid commitments to extended family, friends and work collegues. Not exactly the typical sales model to excel in a sales career.
At the beginning of this tale, I had signed Spike up for lessons in the martial arts. Tai Kwon Do to be specific. I did so for all the right reasons including enlightening the kid on such matters of building his confidence and self esteem, teaching him respect for others and, of course, the physical exercise might just burn some of that energy that just doesn’t seem to shut off, often enough, in a six year old boy.
Now when you unilaterally commit your kid to such an activity, and you know in your heart it it’s for all the right reasons, the better interest of the child, etc., you also know, without having to discuss it with your partner, that you will both share in the making-it-happen. Not so. When you commit ‘em, you also commit yourself to getting him to and from, on a regular basis. Everyday. Every week. Every month. Just cause.
This commitment meant racing from work to either the house or school, a minimum of twice a week, through horrendous traffic, often late leaving and late arriving and late delivering the kid to his class. I would then sit in the gallery panting and sweating, trying to calm down, while watching Spike learn to kick ass down there on the mats. Did I mention, at this point in my life, I was likely a good 40 pounds overweight? Well it took me about a month of this before I realized, if I don’t get down there on the gym floor with him, and get busy, the stress of all this is going to kill me. I also realized that punching out willing participants might be just what I’ve been looking for. Conversely, a few good shots to the head might actually do me some good.  So I signed up. The decision saved my life. But not in the way you’d expect.

First Contact - Post #1

Well what do you know? After two weeks of writing and posting my first four articles to get the Long Journey Back up and running, I find myself penalized. Sent back to the start, to begin all over again. Rather apropos considering the last eighteen months. I did not pass GO. I did not collect the proverbial 200 bucks. I did collect a bunch of new life lessons. Which apparently is all I do these days. Two steps forward, one step back. Emphasizing yet again, just how long a journey this has been, is, and will be. Jeezzzussss!

But as was pointed out by my lady this morning when she woke to find me, once again wallowing in the blackness of despair from inadvertently deleting everything I had accomplished over the past two weeks, this whole exercise is really about the "doing" and not about any fixed goal. It is in fact, simply more of what has engulfed my entire existence over the past eighteen months as I have struggled to gain back some semblance of the life I once lived.

The Blog offers a rather unique medium to record my thoughts on everything I have experienced on the journey back. My team of specialists, in a very real way led by my Angel, my love, my wife, and my friend, have all agreed the writing itself, regardless of topic, will be invaluable in recovering cognitive abilities and mental capacity and ultimately assist in hastening what is expected to be a full recovery. But as important as that is for a reason to write, there are others of equal value that are also highly motivating for me.

My Long Journey Back began 4:05PM EST, Saturday June 26th 2010. Over a year and a half ago as a result of a catastrophic accident that has irrevocably changed my life forever. At the moment it is unclear if the change is for better or for worse. But one irrefutable conclusion shines oh so bright. I am without a doubt, the luckiest man alive.
And the story is truly remarkable.

Now I am not a writer. But I realized very quickly I was not in any position to keep family and friends informed of my condition or my progress by any means other than email. There were so many people expressing their concern, and I was just too busy dealing with the shit at hand. So being a complete Techno Moron (TM), I communicated the only way I could, by creating a very large emailing list. This allowed me to broadcast the updates to everyone all at once. I get that email is not the most practical method of mass communication but I knew nothing about Blogs and understood even less. I have to credit one guy. Always a great inspiration to me, my Techno Wizard (TW), my big brother, for encouraging me in the right direction.

I am blessed with sharing my experience with my wife and two fantastic kids. Always the fore front of my thoughts. By writing all this stuff down we will have a record of the entire ordeal and someday we will all look back and have a great laugh together when reminiscing about just how far we have come.

I began this blog on a iPad two weeks ago trying to familiarize myself with the mechanics in preparation for taking the process on the road in just under two months. I wrote and posted the beginning of the journey in four segments over the last two weeks. Not very familiar with the hard and software involved, I scripted directly into the blog. Only to arrive at the conclusion when reviewing my posts last night, the iPad doesn't save a post after reviewing in edit mode. Or at least if it does, I haven't figured out how.
I erased everything I had written. Twice. Poof! Gone. For good.

I am now starting over again with the iPad app Pages. Now I'll write. Save. Copy and Paste. Hopefully this will prove to be a lot less frustrating.

Some of what I will post has already occurred. I have written a lot over the journey to this point. But a lot is yet to occur. I decided to start the blog at the beginning. Which oddly enough, began with a series of events fifteen years ago. Those events are not yet recorded and that is where my journal will begin. You'll see all that first, followed by the events leading up to the catastrophe; the 'Big Splat' itself, the recovery and ultimate rehab. All conducted in partnership with the journey my wife embarked on as she received her news that forever changed her life as well.

In spite of the set backs, I hope I now have this right and we push on. Same as we have done over here for a while now. The big difference in everything for us is, we now share with the world. Kind of scary. But for all the right reasons we are going to do this. We hope you enjoy some of it along the road of our Long Journey Back.