For those of you that have not heard the news or story, I thought I would do a little blog to sum it up, and also to reflect on the events of my night alone in Warsaw.
On my way home from school on Thursday, I recieved a call from my mom telling me that dad had a bicycle wreck and needed to go to the hospital to get stitches and because his back hurt. She told me that she was on a walk and trying to get back home, and that I would need to stop by the funeral home where Barry Edwards had him waiting. I promptly called my sisters to tell them the news.
Turns out that Dad was trying to jump a pile of gravel along the trail and had misjudged the height and steepness of the pile. His front tire hit the ground and he went flying over the handlebars, landing on his head. He said that he jumped right up and then realized that he was hurt so he layed back down. A couple walking on the trail happened to come by and help him to the end of the trail with his bike, where Barry would pick him up.
Mom finally arrived, we switched Dad to a different vehicle, and I went to get my stuff out of the car. In reaction to this my mom scrunched up her face and said "Well we aren't both going are we?" I took this as a hint and got in my car to head home.
My first update was that they were doing a cat scan on his neck, and were going to staple the head wound. This worried me a little, but I assured myself that he would be fine.
My next update came as a little bit more of a shock to everyone involved. Dad had fractured 2 vertebre, his C6 and C7. He would be transfered to Columbia so a specialist could look at him. Mom told me to pack our things and head that direction. Shortly after this, I was told that I would not be going to Columbia, but just bringing Mom's stuff to Sedalia and going back home. Olivia wanted me to come stay with her in Warrensburg, but Mom wanted me home just in case she needed anything else.
I arrived back home about midnight, took a shower and got into bed. I didn't fall asleep until about 1, and update texts from mom kept me between being awake and in a light sleep for the next hour or so.
At about 2:30, I recieved a weather alert text from KY3 stating that Benton County was in a Severe Thunderstorm Warning. To anyone that knows me well, you see why this presented a problem. I am very scared of storms, not to mention in the middle of the night when I am by myself. I told myself if I could just fall asleep before it started that I would be fine. Of course, ten minutes later I started to hear the hail on the skylight in the bathroom. I got up, putting a hoodie on with my PJ's and moved to Mom and Dad's bed to watch the weather, but of course, the TV wouldn't work because of the storm. Right at this point, my somewhat maternal instinct kicked in when I realized my cats were outside.
At first, I told myself they would be okay. Bob had been through much worse before, and Gilbert was probably hanging around with him, so he would be alright too, but as I listened to the thunder and hail, I climbed back out of bed and plopped out to the garage. I opened the storm door and Gilbert appeared almost instantly, literally soaked to the bone and dripping water. Bob, however, did not come up. I poked my head out and called him, but nothing changed. I called a few more times and then closed the door, getting Gibbs some food and talking to him in complete human scentences as if he were going to reply in the same fashion. I decided that Bob would be alright, and started to go back inside. Guilt washed over me as I turned one more time and saw Gibbs trying to dry his soaking wet coat off, so I walked over to the door one more time to yell for Bob, and there he was. He rushed inside, dripping cold water just like Gilbert had been.
Now that I knew they were safe, I went back inside and crawled into my bed. Sleep did not decide to grace me until about 4:30, where I fell into a deep slumber from my long night. Mom then texted me at about 7, telling me the good news that dad would not have to have surgery. About 8 hours later, they were home safe and sound, both knocked out sleeping.
Dad has to wear a neck brace 24/7 for 6 weeks and got three staples in his head, but generally is doing well. He has been awake most of the day so far, and is talking to Stefaine now. At times like this, you really think about the blessings in life. Our family was lucky that dad was sent home without surgery, and we all realized that we have the best friends in the world. Of course we want to offer a special thanks to Barry Edwards and family, Chris and the Riley family for being ready to go at any minute and bringing dinner last night, the Million's who contributed to dinner and brought dad a recliner, and Bill and Cynthia Wood for the food and good company today. These people have been wonderful, and we appreciate it more than you will ever know. Thanks to everyone for the prayers, and I will try to keep you all updated!
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
No Good Very Bad Day:(
I know that I have not blogged in FOREVER, but I truly have had nothing to blog about. When all your life consists of is going from bed to school to bed to work, not a lot of exciting things happen. Today, however, I have had bad luck that I deem blog worthy. My day went as follows:
I woke up early, but left my house late. I got to school on time, but just barely. My Music Appreciation class was quite dry, and I was fighting that urge to just close my eyes for a minute. That is not close to the worst part.
My Music App class got out late, leaving me 10 minutes to get to my car, get to the Ag building and re-park. I did this fairly quickly, leaving myself just enough time to use the restroom. I climbed out of my car, shoving the keys in my hoodie pocket and slinging my 30 pound backpack onto my shoulders.
I went inside and did my business, and as I was trying to lug my huge backpack on, my keys fell out of my pocket. My eyes grew wide as I evaluated the possibility of my keys dropping into the flushing toilet. I wheeled around and sighed in relief as I saw my keys laying on the floor. I bent over to pick them up thinking about how lucky I was when I heard it. Rrrrriiiiiiiip. That's right. I ripped my pants.
Luckily, it was not my crotch or crack that ripped, but more in the inner/upper thigh. I assessed the damage and decided that I could make it to my next two classes without running to get new pants as long as I walked like a duck and sat very still.
Ag and Public Speaking were uneventful, and as soon as I was let out I sped over to JC Penny (I figured it was better to try on pants before I ate rather than after) to purchase a new pair of jeans. After trying on what felt like 82 pair (too small, mom jeans, legs too straight, ugly pockets, mom jeans, too big, mom jeans), I finally found a pair of semi cute and comfortable jeans that would get me through my day. While trying on all these pants, I also noticed that the rip in my jeans had grown about 1 1/2 inches. I left the store, new jeans in hand, and continued with my day.
After lunch, I went to the school library to use my computer for a while, and at about 4:15 realized that I had forgotten to go to Staples to get paintbrushes before my art class at 5. I rushed over and back, arriving just in time for my class, and also just as it started to rain. Now picture this: Me with my backpack on, paintbrushes and a 2'x3' sketch pad in one hand and an umbrella in the other, walking down the sidewalk in the pouring rain. Ew.
All in all, I made it through class and home safely, and am now curled up in the chair with cookies in hand. From this warm, dry, and rip free place, I can look back on my day and just giggle. Thursday will be better!
I woke up early, but left my house late. I got to school on time, but just barely. My Music Appreciation class was quite dry, and I was fighting that urge to just close my eyes for a minute. That is not close to the worst part.
My Music App class got out late, leaving me 10 minutes to get to my car, get to the Ag building and re-park. I did this fairly quickly, leaving myself just enough time to use the restroom. I climbed out of my car, shoving the keys in my hoodie pocket and slinging my 30 pound backpack onto my shoulders.
I went inside and did my business, and as I was trying to lug my huge backpack on, my keys fell out of my pocket. My eyes grew wide as I evaluated the possibility of my keys dropping into the flushing toilet. I wheeled around and sighed in relief as I saw my keys laying on the floor. I bent over to pick them up thinking about how lucky I was when I heard it. Rrrrriiiiiiiip. That's right. I ripped my pants.
Luckily, it was not my crotch or crack that ripped, but more in the inner/upper thigh. I assessed the damage and decided that I could make it to my next two classes without running to get new pants as long as I walked like a duck and sat very still.
Ag and Public Speaking were uneventful, and as soon as I was let out I sped over to JC Penny (I figured it was better to try on pants before I ate rather than after) to purchase a new pair of jeans. After trying on what felt like 82 pair (too small, mom jeans, legs too straight, ugly pockets, mom jeans, too big, mom jeans), I finally found a pair of semi cute and comfortable jeans that would get me through my day. While trying on all these pants, I also noticed that the rip in my jeans had grown about 1 1/2 inches. I left the store, new jeans in hand, and continued with my day.
After lunch, I went to the school library to use my computer for a while, and at about 4:15 realized that I had forgotten to go to Staples to get paintbrushes before my art class at 5. I rushed over and back, arriving just in time for my class, and also just as it started to rain. Now picture this: Me with my backpack on, paintbrushes and a 2'x3' sketch pad in one hand and an umbrella in the other, walking down the sidewalk in the pouring rain. Ew.
All in all, I made it through class and home safely, and am now curled up in the chair with cookies in hand. From this warm, dry, and rip free place, I can look back on my day and just giggle. Thursday will be better!
Friday, September 9, 2011
Mass Hysteria
I had a pretty rough day today. When my 4:30 "You have two hours until you need to leave for work" alarm went off, I knew it was not going to be the best day ever. I arrived at work, we opened 30 minutes early, and I was ready to tear my eyeballs out by 9:00. The day at work was uneventful, making it even harder for the time to go by quickly.
On my lunch break, I stopped by the vet's office to see if I could bring Dewey in for coggins when I got off work. They said that it would be fine if I arrived around 4:30, so now with fresh horse-realted anxiety I went back to work for the last two hours of my day.
I ended up leaving work a little late, and arrived at Dewey's about ten minutes behind schedule. I hooked up the trailer as fast as humanly possible (It took me multiple tries and wasted more time than needed), and headed to the pasture. All the horses (Including Dewey) were plopping up to the gate looking happy to see me, until Dewey spotted the rope in my back pocket.
He turned on a dime and took off running in the oppisite direction. More time wasted. I am sure glad that you couldn't see that part of the pasture from the highway, because I am pretty sure I looked like and idiot sprinting across the field dragging a grumpy horse.
As we arrived back at the trailer, I began to feel wet. Wet? It's sunny.. I looked around and opened the trailer door as a torrential downpour started. This continued for about 10-15 minutes, but I didnt have time to wait it our. Dewey walked right up to the trailer, put two feet inside, and then promptly raised his head and backed out of the trailer as fast as he could. He backed up about another hundred feed, without me touching or making any kind of advance. I was soaked, he was soaked, and tears were starting to form. Mass hysteria. So the battle begins. Lets just say we did not make it to the vet by 4:30. Or at all.
I decided (Dewey did not agree) that we should go for a ride now that he ruined the appointment. I saddled him up and put him on the longe line. He acted as if he was a wild horse that had never had human contact or a saddle on before. He took off bucking, rearing, jumping, and just making a complete idiot of himself. After his little fit, I finally got him going somewhat forward, with a few hops and bucks in between. I mustered up the courage to get on him after his fit, and we got along fine. Time to try the trailer again.
In the next half hour, not only would Dewey not get in the trailer, but he would not get near it. I had to coax him with food to even get him close. Once he realized that he could stand close to the trailer without me actually trying to get him to go in it, he was okay. I let him eat a little while and calm down from his fit and ride.
I tried to get him into the trailer using food, trotting him up to it, switching tack, and even looping a rope around his back legs to pull him into it. He would not budge. The only direction he would move was backwards. By this point I was thinking, "I wonder how much of my homework I could have had done by now..."
But as all horse people, and even some non-horse owners know and understand: You CANNOT let the horse win. This just teaches them that next time you want them in the trailer, they dont have to go, because you will give up eventually. Horses can either make an evening really great or really bad. Problem is that they get to decide which one it comes out to be.
I sat there and stared at Dewey for a while, and he stared back. It was now not a battle of stregnth, it was a battle of wit and endurance. Who would give up first?
Then the lightbulb clicked. When dad and I load him together, I stand in the trailer and pull, while dad stands behind Dewey and smacks his rear. Obviously, by myself I could not use this strategy in quite the same way, but I figured something out.
I clicked a rope onto his halter and threaded it through the front window of the trailer, and around the outside. This gave me the leverage and ability to pull from inside the trailer while standing outside with Dewey. I pulled on him with one hand while smacking his butt with the other. After tons of hesitation and trying to mow me over to get around the trailer, I finally got some ground. Front feet in.... shoots back out. *facepalm*
I try again. Three feet in... shoots back out. Once more. All feet in... shoots back out.
Then FINALLY an act of God happens. All feet in.......... no backing out. Sniff the bucket.... Oh! Food!. I jumped in and closed the slant as fast as possible and got him all set up. I then collapse onto the ground in triumph. I use this system two or three more times until he just lets me lead him in.
Two and a half hours later, finally satisfied, I put Dew back out with his friends. You know what I said before about how a horse can make an evening or can ruin one, but the horse gets to decide? Well I lied. You get to decide what to do after they make their decision. They can choose to ruin the evening, but you can let them, or teach them. And while you are trying to teach them, you just might learn something yourself. So now I am laying in bed physically (and emotionally) exhausted from my day and evening, but I have a little smirk on my face because I won. I found something that worked and got the results I wanted, and now I get to feel like I actually did something productive with my evening.
On my lunch break, I stopped by the vet's office to see if I could bring Dewey in for coggins when I got off work. They said that it would be fine if I arrived around 4:30, so now with fresh horse-realted anxiety I went back to work for the last two hours of my day.
I ended up leaving work a little late, and arrived at Dewey's about ten minutes behind schedule. I hooked up the trailer as fast as humanly possible (It took me multiple tries and wasted more time than needed), and headed to the pasture. All the horses (Including Dewey) were plopping up to the gate looking happy to see me, until Dewey spotted the rope in my back pocket.
He turned on a dime and took off running in the oppisite direction. More time wasted. I am sure glad that you couldn't see that part of the pasture from the highway, because I am pretty sure I looked like and idiot sprinting across the field dragging a grumpy horse.
As we arrived back at the trailer, I began to feel wet. Wet? It's sunny.. I looked around and opened the trailer door as a torrential downpour started. This continued for about 10-15 minutes, but I didnt have time to wait it our. Dewey walked right up to the trailer, put two feet inside, and then promptly raised his head and backed out of the trailer as fast as he could. He backed up about another hundred feed, without me touching or making any kind of advance. I was soaked, he was soaked, and tears were starting to form. Mass hysteria. So the battle begins. Lets just say we did not make it to the vet by 4:30. Or at all.
I decided (Dewey did not agree) that we should go for a ride now that he ruined the appointment. I saddled him up and put him on the longe line. He acted as if he was a wild horse that had never had human contact or a saddle on before. He took off bucking, rearing, jumping, and just making a complete idiot of himself. After his little fit, I finally got him going somewhat forward, with a few hops and bucks in between. I mustered up the courage to get on him after his fit, and we got along fine. Time to try the trailer again.
In the next half hour, not only would Dewey not get in the trailer, but he would not get near it. I had to coax him with food to even get him close. Once he realized that he could stand close to the trailer without me actually trying to get him to go in it, he was okay. I let him eat a little while and calm down from his fit and ride.
I tried to get him into the trailer using food, trotting him up to it, switching tack, and even looping a rope around his back legs to pull him into it. He would not budge. The only direction he would move was backwards. By this point I was thinking, "I wonder how much of my homework I could have had done by now..."
But as all horse people, and even some non-horse owners know and understand: You CANNOT let the horse win. This just teaches them that next time you want them in the trailer, they dont have to go, because you will give up eventually. Horses can either make an evening really great or really bad. Problem is that they get to decide which one it comes out to be.
I sat there and stared at Dewey for a while, and he stared back. It was now not a battle of stregnth, it was a battle of wit and endurance. Who would give up first?
Then the lightbulb clicked. When dad and I load him together, I stand in the trailer and pull, while dad stands behind Dewey and smacks his rear. Obviously, by myself I could not use this strategy in quite the same way, but I figured something out.
I clicked a rope onto his halter and threaded it through the front window of the trailer, and around the outside. This gave me the leverage and ability to pull from inside the trailer while standing outside with Dewey. I pulled on him with one hand while smacking his butt with the other. After tons of hesitation and trying to mow me over to get around the trailer, I finally got some ground. Front feet in.... shoots back out. *facepalm*
I try again. Three feet in... shoots back out. Once more. All feet in... shoots back out.
Then FINALLY an act of God happens. All feet in.......... no backing out. Sniff the bucket.... Oh! Food!. I jumped in and closed the slant as fast as possible and got him all set up. I then collapse onto the ground in triumph. I use this system two or three more times until he just lets me lead him in.
Two and a half hours later, finally satisfied, I put Dew back out with his friends. You know what I said before about how a horse can make an evening or can ruin one, but the horse gets to decide? Well I lied. You get to decide what to do after they make their decision. They can choose to ruin the evening, but you can let them, or teach them. And while you are trying to teach them, you just might learn something yourself. So now I am laying in bed physically (and emotionally) exhausted from my day and evening, but I have a little smirk on my face because I won. I found something that worked and got the results I wanted, and now I get to feel like I actually did something productive with my evening.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Dog or Die
As many of you know, for the last few years I have been dead-set on getting a dog. This hasn't really changed, but my perspective has.
I found the perfect puppy for me on Craigslist a couple of days ago, so I have been espically persistant (annoying) and persuasive (driving mom and dad crazy to the point where they are about to suggest that I adopt two dogs, and a few more cats while I'm at it) lately.
Mom and I had a conversation tonight (her talking and feeling guilty, me feeling guilty and crying) about getting a dog. She raised the blunt point that she just doesn't want an animal in her house, but she would talk to dad about it because she just wants me to be happy. Guilt level: sky-rocketing. This made me really question my decision.
I have always had this thought in my head that mom and dad are wrong because they have preconceived notions about dogs, which is true, but I have also had these notions that my dog will not be like that. This could be true, or it could be very false. If false, I will just end up looking dumb in front of everyone.
So now I am at this problem: Do I want a dog bad enough to make mom go against her better judgement, or should I just shut up and take one for the team ('the team' being all the animal haters in my family... wait... that is everyone.)? At this current moment, I am laying awake in bed thinking about this. I dont want to make my parents unhappy, but they dont want me to be unhappy. Neither of us can really win in this situation.
I would be overjoyed if they told me I could get one, but the feeling wouldn't come without hesitation. As the song by The Fray goes:
"Happiness damn near destroys you, breaks your faith to pieces on the floor.."
This is what is happening now. Happiness is destroying me. I am so excited at the possibility to finally get a dog, but am overrun with guilt because I am the only one that is going to benefit from the situation.
Anyway, I will stop venting and making a huge deal about something as little as pet ownership. I just needed to get some feelings out! Anyway, I would appreciate any non-ignorant comments on your view on the matter...
I found the perfect puppy for me on Craigslist a couple of days ago, so I have been espically persistant (annoying) and persuasive (driving mom and dad crazy to the point where they are about to suggest that I adopt two dogs, and a few more cats while I'm at it) lately.
Mom and I had a conversation tonight (her talking and feeling guilty, me feeling guilty and crying) about getting a dog. She raised the blunt point that she just doesn't want an animal in her house, but she would talk to dad about it because she just wants me to be happy. Guilt level: sky-rocketing. This made me really question my decision.
I have always had this thought in my head that mom and dad are wrong because they have preconceived notions about dogs, which is true, but I have also had these notions that my dog will not be like that. This could be true, or it could be very false. If false, I will just end up looking dumb in front of everyone.
So now I am at this problem: Do I want a dog bad enough to make mom go against her better judgement, or should I just shut up and take one for the team ('the team' being all the animal haters in my family... wait... that is everyone.)? At this current moment, I am laying awake in bed thinking about this. I dont want to make my parents unhappy, but they dont want me to be unhappy. Neither of us can really win in this situation.
I would be overjoyed if they told me I could get one, but the feeling wouldn't come without hesitation. As the song by The Fray goes:
"Happiness damn near destroys you, breaks your faith to pieces on the floor.."
This is what is happening now. Happiness is destroying me. I am so excited at the possibility to finally get a dog, but am overrun with guilt because I am the only one that is going to benefit from the situation.
Anyway, I will stop venting and making a huge deal about something as little as pet ownership. I just needed to get some feelings out! Anyway, I would appreciate any non-ignorant comments on your view on the matter...
Monday, July 18, 2011
Why I Love It:
When my KY3 weather text woke me up at seven a.m., immediatley followed by sever anxiety, I really doubted that this day could turn out good at all. Riding lessons loomed ahead of me, with the temperature already topping eighty degrees. I really didn't want to get out of bed, but following Stefanie and Olivia's cruise theme, I decided to press on.
I proceeded to crawl out of bed and locate all of my riding attire (which is more than you would think) and plopped into the kitchen getting that 'I cant believe you are wearing those riding tights in public' look from Mom. I took a couple sips of water and headed out.
Andrea and I decided to ride together, so at least the car ride was fun. We arrived at the barn, giggling about how fat my lesson horse is, and having a good time. The day was starting to look up.
The barn I ride at doubles as a theraputic riding facility. I finished my lesson, and my instructor asked me if there was any way that I could be a walker for one of the therapy kids that was there that morning. Andrea had yet to ride, so I said I would, kind of leary of the fact that I was already exhausted from my lesson and I didnt really want to walk around in circles for another half hour.
After I took care of my horse, I moved into the indoor arena and saw the little boy that I would be helping that day. His name was Owen. Harvey put him on the little pony and we took off. I listened to Owen quietly talk and felt the way that the little pony was so careful with his precious cargo. Then it hit me: this may be what I want to do with my life.
I got emotional as I thought about how much this little pony was helping Owen get stronger, and how much Owen had probably looked forward to getting to ride. I was worried about the heat and getting sun burned, but he was just excited to get to be there and ride.
We finished with his lesson and I came away different. I had quit worrying about the heat, or that jump line that I just embarassed myself with. It was all about seeing Owen smile and wave goodbye to his pony.
I finished the day out with rodeo judging night on Dewey. We had a few problems, but worked through them. I doubt that I will be able to walk tomorrow, but it was worth having a wonderful day.
I proceeded to crawl out of bed and locate all of my riding attire (which is more than you would think) and plopped into the kitchen getting that 'I cant believe you are wearing those riding tights in public' look from Mom. I took a couple sips of water and headed out.
Andrea and I decided to ride together, so at least the car ride was fun. We arrived at the barn, giggling about how fat my lesson horse is, and having a good time. The day was starting to look up.
The barn I ride at doubles as a theraputic riding facility. I finished my lesson, and my instructor asked me if there was any way that I could be a walker for one of the therapy kids that was there that morning. Andrea had yet to ride, so I said I would, kind of leary of the fact that I was already exhausted from my lesson and I didnt really want to walk around in circles for another half hour.
After I took care of my horse, I moved into the indoor arena and saw the little boy that I would be helping that day. His name was Owen. Harvey put him on the little pony and we took off. I listened to Owen quietly talk and felt the way that the little pony was so careful with his precious cargo. Then it hit me: this may be what I want to do with my life.
I got emotional as I thought about how much this little pony was helping Owen get stronger, and how much Owen had probably looked forward to getting to ride. I was worried about the heat and getting sun burned, but he was just excited to get to be there and ride.
We finished with his lesson and I came away different. I had quit worrying about the heat, or that jump line that I just embarassed myself with. It was all about seeing Owen smile and wave goodbye to his pony.
I finished the day out with rodeo judging night on Dewey. We had a few problems, but worked through them. I doubt that I will be able to walk tomorrow, but it was worth having a wonderful day.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Sorry Stef!
So I have really always wanted to start a blog, and when Stefanie started her's, I decided it was time for me too. As many of you know from my extensive facebook posts, some pretty funny things happen in my life. I felt like a blog would be a more effective way to share some of these longer stories that facebook wont allow because they are too long.
So begins the chronicles of Kaylene, Mom, Dad, Dewey, Gilbert, and Bob. Enjoy!
So begins the chronicles of Kaylene, Mom, Dad, Dewey, Gilbert, and Bob. Enjoy!
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