Thimbleberry Trail and Heart Lake

Today Stephen and I went up Thimbleberry Trail for a nearly 3-mile hike to Heart Lake. It was a pretty, although muggy, day and there isn't much tree cover on this trail. Also, it's a pretty vertical trail, so my left knee, which I strained on the Indian River trail, was on fire the whole way up. When we got to Heart Lake, we walked out onto the small boat dock there and Stephen threw Nika in the water. It occurred to us that Nika had never swam before. Suffice it to say she's simply not cut out for the water. She forgave us quickly as she shook off the brisk water and headed back down the trail toward the car.

Let's be honest...

They really are a couple of pretty boys, aren't they?

Oh, the grand old Duke of York...

Stephen and I went for a spectacular hike all the way up Indian River trail to the waterfall. It was more than 10 miles round-trip and I am spectacularly exhausted, but it was well worth the journey. Here are a few pictures and videos for you to enjoy from the comfort of the nearest chair.

How many PhDs can I fit into one post?

I didn't mention it before, but my braces were removed about a month ago. It's amazing the difference.

Before (September 2012)

After (April 2014) I have to say, all in all I'm pretty happy with the result. Besides having straight teeth, I can actually fit dental floss between my teeth, which is a huge improvement. My dentist is really excited about how well my teeth straightened up and now we're going to begin work on some minor cosmetic dentistry, mostly involving evening out my bite and whitening my teeth, particularly one that has yellowed after a root canal many years ago.

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In other news, my heart is broken.

No, really. It’s true. Literally.

I have mitral valve prolapse, which is a fancy way of saying one of my heart valves is deformed and doesn’t do its job. It regurgitates blood in the wrong direction, so my heart has to work twice as hard to pump my blood in the right direction, so that it can flow where I need it to. You know, like my lungs and my arms and legs.

I’ve known about this condition for 3 1/2 years, but it’s likely I was born with my heart this way and never knew it. In fact, it appears to be a hereditary anomaly. I went to the emergency room one night with a ruptured ovarian cyst and the P.A. on duty noticed a murmur. I thought, “I have a murmur? What does that even mean?”

I told my doc about it at my next regular appointment a few months later and she decided to run a bunch of tests, bloodwork and an echocardiogram. That’s another fancy word that means ‘ultrasound for looking at your heart.’ The results came back and suddenly I was a heart patient.

It was easy at first. I was told everything was fine and I could do everything as I normally do. I was told I’d need to have an echocardiogram once a year so that it could be monitored, but that it was unlikely to get any worse.

But a couple of months ago, after my last echocardiogram, I found out it had become worse.

Now I have a cardiologist and I have to travel 1,000 miles to see him. Distances are big in Alaska and my doc is in Anchorage. I met my cardiologist for the first time last month and he ran more tests. He took more blood, ordered another echocardiogram, and ran an EKG. He listened to my heart and told me it was “moderately severe.” I thought, “‘Moderately severe?’ What does that even mean?”

He told me I needed to come back for a transesophageal echocardiogram, which is a really fancy way of saying he wants to get an ultrasound of my heart from inside my esophagus. Stephen and I just came back from Anchorage yesterday. The doc said I’m going to need surgery within the next five years, but it would most likely happen within the next 6 months. He told me that I’m a really good candidate for my valve to be repaired. This is good, because replacement valves don’t last very long and may require blood thinners for the rest of my life.

He's referring me to one of the best heart surgeons in the country, who happens to be in Spokane, WA. He said this surgeon is a specialist in robotic heart surgeries and that I won’t need my whole chest cut open, just three to five small scars, where portals will be made under my arm. Recovery time should be under 2 weeks.

I googled this surgeon and read everything I could find. He seems like a good surgeon. He has a whole list of degrees and certifications. He graduated from Harvard. He gets good reviews on the internet.

Then I found this video:

I think I’m going to be ok. I think I’m in good hands and that I’m a relatively low risk patient, regarding overall health. Sometimes I get palpitations or pressure in my chest and I worry, but mostly, I think I'm going to be just fine. I have good doctors and good support. Best of all, I have Stephen, and he's going to do his best to make sure I'm ok no matter what. ❤

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A beautiful day for a picnic

It was so beautiful outside, even after working a full shift at The Pub, I couldn't wait to get out and enjoy the sunshine with Stephen and the kids. The sky was clear, there was a light breeze, the tide was low, and the temperature hung around 70°F, 60°F in the damp shade of the forest.

Stephen made some sandwiches and packed them along with a bag of chips and some sodas. We loaded everyone into the car and made our way out the road to Starrigavin camping area. We picnicked in a small clearing that had an available table. It seemed everyone wanted to enjoy the weather, but even so it wasn't difficult to find a spot that felt secluded. We enjoyed our picnic dinner among the trees and flowers until the bugs chased us out. It was a good day for mosquitos and bumble bees, as well.

We headed to the bird-viewing platform and made the loop around the estuary. The kids ran around, picking spruce tips to suck on and checking out interesting sights along the way.

After we finished the loop, we decided to go back down to the beach and let the kids play on the shore. They spent an hour or so moving large rocks and playing with crabs, mussels, ans small mud fish they found underneath. Eventually, we all felt the day winding down and started for home again.

It's nice to live in a place where a 3-hour getaway can feel like a real vacation, where we can get lost in the wilderness for a short time and come back again with almost no effort at all.

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Herring Spawn

Really, there's nothing that can be shown or said to explain what the herring spawn means in town.

To the Tlingit, it represents the first opportunity of the year to harvest a traditional food from the sea. They cut hemlock swags and lay them in shallow water for the ever-so-particular herring to blast their sticky eggs all over. Later, the branches will be collected and steamed to loosen and partly cook the eggs, which are kept all year as a snack and an addition to a variety of dishes.

To the modern commercial fishermen, it represents a chance to get in on a very lucrative fishing season after a winter of indifferent fishing. The Sitka Sound Sac Roe fishery is one of the few derby-style fisheries still open in Alaska and brings a bunch of money, energy, and bustle to parts of town that have been laying dormant all winter. On the first day of the fishery this year, 5500 tons of herring were caught, enough to keep all of the local processors running 24 hours a day for two straight days.

Pair all of this with the fact that we're finally seeing sunlight for more than 50% of the day and the sun is out and the rain is less frequent and the temperatures are getting up to a balmy 45-50° and you have the start of an exciting time of year. When you further recall that herring are an important prey species to humpbacks and sea lions (and just about every waterfowl), someone with binoculars and a clear day and some caffeine can go all day without running out of things at which to gawk.

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Earlier today, the kids and I went out to one of our local park/beaches. The tide was really low, so we had fun stomping on the pebbles and looking for clam holes. After that, we pulled off to the side of the road where a few other cars were stopped. I'd glimpsed something in the water on our way out, and I'm glad I followed my gut on this one. When we got out and settled by the side of the road, we could clearly see a herd of sea lions (probably 30-35 of them) feeding in a mass. They would all submerge, then blast out of the water. This was mostly a quiet affair, being more about eating than about personal space. Every now and again, though, barks and bellows could be heard. About fifteen minutes into watching this, a humpback decided to invade the sea lions' space, so we got to watch a blow about 100 feet off-shore. The whale swam out of sight behind some trees, but we continued to hear loud blows until we moved on. We stopped at two more spots on the way home, viewing different whales and sea lions at each spot. In all, we probably saw 15-20 whales (some feeding individually, others obviously bubble feeding but too far away for us to see well) and more than 50 sea lions.

After being home for a while, I looked out the window and realized that the activity had drifted close enough to town (the predation follows the food, after all) that we could now see it from our living room window. Here are a couple of crappy videos for your enjoyment. Try if you can to disregard the chatter of a pair of completely disinterested children.

Shaking things up a little

1:00am
At 11:58pm (1 hour ago), a 7.7 earthquake hit about 110 miles SE of Sitka at a depth of 3 miles. Stephen and I felt all of it and we started preparing for the inevitable journey to higher ground. The kids were fast asleep, the dog nervous, and we were just working as quickly as possible to make sure we had the most basic essentials to pack into the car. When the tsunami sirens could finally be heard, we moved the kids, the dog, and several hastily packed bags into the car and headed to the Sitka High School parking lot. We've been sitting here ever since, trying to listen for any further news on the situation. The initial tsunami was predicted to hit at 12:45am, but as you can see, that time has passed and we're still waiting to hear if Sitka has or will sustain any damage.

1:31am
The size of the earthquake has been downgraded to 7.5, but the tsunami warning is still in effect. Port Alexander has seen 6" waves so far. At least three aftershocks have been felt between 1:10-1:35am, each at a strength of 4.15-4.8.

2:04am
Cars are leaving the parking lot now, but we haven't seen or heard any changes on the warning.

2:19am
ALL CLEAR. Traffic is nuts and the kids are begging for their beds. I'm missing my pillow too. I'm glad this didn't end up being bigger than it was and that everyone is safe.

2:46am
A tsunami wave of 0.3 feet was recorded for Sitka, which is relatively insignificant. We are home now and I'm going to try to unwind and get some sleep. This was a very positive experience. It showed us that we are able to stay level-headed during an emergency, but also that we, as a family, need to review our preparedness for all of our emergency procedures. I imagine tonight's event may bring about talks of fire safety, among other things, which is good.

It's like that awkward adolescent phase, without the acne

I'm building a relationship with my orthodontist, and not in fun way. Today I had an appointment to start the redistribution of my teeth into what will hopefully be a straighter smile. I have spent all of my masticating life with "Hale teeth," a condition instantly recognized by others in the bloodline and one that will take some time to correct.

I wouldn't say that I have "bad teeth." I'm not British, after all, and I've never had any real cavities, although I have had one root canal and all of my wisdom teeth extracted. I just have crooked teeth and no room to spread them out to straighten them. If you look at the two bicuspids on the left side of my jaw (right side of the image), you'll notice they are rotated 30°-40° clockwise from their normal positions, and my front teeth have started to overlap from crowding. This makes it hard for me to brush effectively and nearly impossible to floss.

Look at those crooked, overlapping teeth--proof that I am my mother's daughter. 

My initial consultation was some months ago. It was explained to me then what was in store, but I had no idea when all this would take place, since booking appointments for ortho work is not as easy as for cleanings and regular checkups. I had my first post-consultation appointment last month. They took a bunch of x-rays, including a panoramic, and made molds from my teeth. By the time I left, my mouth tasted like I had been chewing on a rubber glove all morning.

Today's appointment was all business. I was fitted with 8 brackets, a wire, and turquoise O-rings.

You can just call me Jaws.

The whole setup is less than comfortable. It kind of feels like my jaw has been placed into a vice grip and then tightened by a blind masochist. The wire has shredded the insides of my cheeks already and I have a continuous headache that radiates from the top of my neck to my forehead. But it's all worth it, right? I hope so.

As my teeth shift, the sides of my front teeth will be shaved down to make enough room for them to be aligned side-by-side correctly. My molars can't be moved because they already fit together so well, it would mean realigning my whole mouth, which is far more work than is necessary. The estimate on the amount of time it will take to complete my smile is 6 months, but we'll see. Let's just say I'm not going to hold my breath.

At this point, ice cream and Tylenol help considerably. The dental wax I was given to coat the sharp parts is kind of like trying to fix a bent fender with silly putty. All I really want is to turn off the lights and let my face rest. It's been a long day and it started with attaching all this metal to my mouth. I'll keep you updated on how things progress. I'm thinking the comparison of before, during, and after photos will be interesting.

Gotta keep on smiling!

We have a winner!

Alaska Day is a pretty big deal in Sitka. There are right around two whole weeks of festivities planned each year to commemorate the transfer of Russian claim of Alaska to the U.S. on October 18, 1867, which all took place right here in Sitka. One of these events is a community essay contest and this year's theme is "Celebrating 100 years of Alaska Native Brotherhood." The prizes for the contest are $100, $50, and $25 for 1st, 2nd, and 3rd places, respectively, for each age group (Elementary School, Middle School, High School, and Adult) and the opportunity to read your winning essay to the community during the Festival.

Seren's teacher, Ms. R, is a member of the women's writing group that sponsors the writing contest, so of course she involved as many students as she could in the process. There were two topics to choose from: "Your Family's Traditions and Cultures" or "Human Rights." Seren chose the former and sat down with Stephen one evening and composed this:

I'm going to write about traditions my family has for birthdays and bedtime and when people die.

For birthdays, we give people treats like cupcakes and real cakes. The person that has the birthday gets to choose the kind of treat. That person shares with their class or their family or their grandparents. We also have birthday dinners and the person that has the birthday chooses the kind of dinner.

 When people die, we think about all of the happy things we used to do with them. We always put some stones on the gravestone when we visit the cemetery. We put the stones on the gravestone so that people know we've been looking there.

We have a bedtime tradition. We read a book if it's not too late and then we give hugs and kisses to everyone. (Not yourself, though, because that's impossible!)

Thank you for looking at this! I like fun traditions.

The contest results were released today and Seren won 3rd Place in the Elementary School division! She will receive $25 and will get to read her entry to the community on Sunday afternoon (October 14th).

We're very proud of her and she's excited too!

Photo courtesy of alaskadayfestival.org

All's well that ends well

Seren had her final post-surgery check up with her ophthalmologist today. This is really less of an event as it is a formality, since Seren pulled the tube out of her eye by herself little more than two weeks after we returned from Anchorage. However, it is nice to hear that the procedure was, indeed, successful from the professional who performed it. He was pleased to see that in addition to her eyesight being normal, she has not had even a single instance of gooping, crusting, swelling, or redness since he saw her last. The only concession he made on that report was the possibility that she may experience a similar tear duct blockage in the future, but we don't have any reason to worry about that, even if it does happen. It has been so nice not having to think about Seren's eye all the time, but should it happen again, we'll just take it in stride, just as we always have.

The actual silicon tube Seren removed from her eye on August 25, 2012 

Home again and other good news

After a long morning of travel and a completely uneventful flight, Seren and I are home and in our own beds. Porter and Stephen were very happy to see us, but since Stephen is working today (in-service before school starts), we weren't able to spend much time together. Good thing there's an entire weekend ahead of us!

Seren's eye looks great. There's no bruising or redness of any kind. She's unhappy about having to use antibiotic drops for the next 5 days, but it's better than getting an infection. When it's all over, she'll be grateful we put in the extra effort to do everything correctly.

....…….……..................................

I didn't mention it before, because I didn't want the news to be overshadowed by Seren's surgery, but while we were in Anchorage, I received a pretty important phone call. Right after we all returned from our cross-country excursion, Porter and I both had our annual doctor visits scheduled. Porter had some blood work done and the results are in...

You may recall that Porter has had a struggle with some food allergies during the last year. At one point, we had removed milk, soy, wheat, eggs, and peanuts from his diet entirely. To make matters worse, he would break out in head-to-toe eczema when exposed to these foods, in addition to the gastro-intestinal problems they caused. We did our best to make sure he was able to eat "real" food that tasted good, despite all of those missing ingredients from his diet.

Well, the call I received was from our family doctor. She said that his allergy screen came back 100% negative! That's right, he can eat ANYTHING he wants again... with one concession: although he is no longer allergic to these foods, he may still have a sensitive stomach when exposed to them. So, we have to watch for signs of discomfort, but aside from that, he is entirely in the clear! We are very happy about this and extremely proud of Porter for doing so well in situations when foods he was not allowed to have were present. In fact, when he was given his first egg this week, he had to be convinced it was okay to eat it!

Thank you all (again) for the love and support while we dealt with this. This last year was a struggle, but we're on the other side now and truly grateful for all of the tips and advice that were sent our way. We wouldn't have been able to find some of the wonderful foods we discovered on this journey or cope with the dramatic change to our dinner table without your help.

Anchorage: Day 3

The alarm went off at 4:45am this morning, so that I would be able to get myself showered and ready and still have plenty of time to rouse Seren, get her dressed, and meet the cab at the front door by 5:45am. Poor Seren didn't want to wake up--she even told me she'd rather sleep than get her eye fixed, but minutes later, we were brushing our teeth together and she was slowly preparing herself for the long day ahead. The cab was 5 minutes early, but so were we, and we arrived at ANMC just before 6am. We waited at main registration for the morning shift to arrive, attached her admittance bracelet to her ankle (it was way too big for her wrist), and headed upstairs to the Day Surgery clinic at around 20 minutes after the hour. We had about a 15-minute wait before we were taken back to the surgery prep area, which was plenty of time for Seren to get silly with excitement about her procedure. She was given a child-size hospital gown with sleepy tigers on it, a pair of disposable slipper socks, and a mesh head covering.

Seren being silly in the waiting room

More silliness

Taking vitals before the big show

...And then the bomb was dropped.

As I mentioned previously, Seren has a bad case of trypanophobia. So bad, the mere mention of an IV to administer anti-nausea medications to counter the side-effects of the general anesthesia turned that bright and happy little girl you see above into this:

This is not the face of a happy little girl.

 She was crying hysterically and completely inconsolable before we had even been given the definitive word on the IV situation. Finally, I did the only thing a good parent can do in these situations: I lied. I hated it. It made my stomach turn to be that deceptive, but it was the only way I could get her to calm down. I said, "Let's try this. How about if the nice nurse right here [wink, wink to the nurse beside me] gets you a Band-Aid to put on your hand, right here? That way, when you wake up, if the Band-Aid is gone, you know they poked you, but if it's still there when you wake up, you know you're alright. They can't put the needle in your hand through a Band-Aid, right?" The nurse caught my drift and had a Band-Aid waiting before I even finished my talk with Seren. Seren accepted the conditions, although hesitantly, but it was enough headway to get her to take a dose of Versed to calm her down enough to take her into surgery. Another 20 minutes went by and she was singing nonsensical songs to the stuffed animals the nurse gave her to hold. And then she was wheeled away.

My next stop was the cafeteria. I certainly wasn't sitting around in that waiting room on an empty stomach.

Egg-A-Mooby-Bagel, yogurt + granola, and a Mocha Frappucchino

After breakfast, I headed back upstairs to the waiting room and well, I waited. I made a good advancement on the book I brought, while checking the flat-screen monitor with patient updates regularly between paragraphs. At nearly 10am, her doctor appeared before me.

"She's all done," he said, then went into an account of the details of the procedure. Apparently, she did very well while on the table and everything went swimmingly until the doc lost sight of the end of the tube. He explained that this wouldn't have been a problem, except that the tube could not be recovered while in the tear duct, so it had to be removed and he had to start over with an endoscope. Again, this wouldn't have been a problem, except that the doc rarely uses the endoscope and so he is relatively unpracticed at directing it through such small areas. So the on-duty otorhinolaryngologist was called in to supervise this part of the procedure. It is not known where the end of the tube mysteriously disappeared to, but it is known for certain that no damage was done. However, the meticulous use of the endoscope lengthened the estimated time of the procedure significantly. A small price to pay for a job well done, in my opinion.

A few minutes later, I was called into recovery to see Seren. But she wasn't there yet. So I sat and waited, camera in hand, so you could see this picture:

Also not the face of a happy little girl

It was explained to me that Seren's needle phobia continued into her unconscious, anesthetized state and she, apparently, woke up in a screaming panic. The nurses said they had never seen a child with that severe of a phobia. They told me they were stunned by her reaction and heartbroken that there was nothing they could do to calm "such a sweet girl," so they called me in early, so that she could cuddle up with me as soon as she came out of the operating room. She was only awake enough to curl up into my lap after the nurses handed her to me, but immediately passed out cold for another hour.

While she was sleeping, one of the nurses helped me take the IV catheter out of her hand and place a fresh Band-Aid over the place where the first one was taken off.

When she woke up on her own, she did it far more peacefully than when under the anesthesia. She slowly regained her motor skills and got her feet underneath her, before we carefully made our way to the cafeteria for her to eat the first food she'd had since pizza last night, a banana. By the time the banana had been reduced to a slippery husk, she was wide awake, chipper, and talkative. She had also discovered the needle mark under the Band-Aid on her hand.
"Those tricky people!" she said. "They poked me through the Band-Aid!"
"Are you okay? Does it hurt?"
"No, I'm fine. But that was very tricky."

I packed up some extra food and some Jell-o from the cafeteria to take back to the hotel with us and we took the first shuttle back. Seren immediately took a shower, changed into her pajamas, and finished a container of Jell-o. Then we just relaxed and watched tv for the rest of the evening.

I did get an important call this afternoon, though. Since Seren's surgery went so well, her post-op appointment was cancelled for tomorrow and we will be flying back home first thing in the morning! Since we have to be up early for our 8am flight, we will be going to bed soon. But first...

Thank you for all of the love and support we have received this week. Seren was so happy to read the comments, emails, and text messages from all of you. It meant the world to both of us.