Biking

While watching television last night I watched a show about biking. Watching it made me think back to my biking days.

One Christmas, as young boys living in North Carolina my parents bought my older brother and me bicycles. Mine was a 24-inch model and my older brother’s was a 26-inch model. There is only 14 months between my brother and I, so we were always doing things together. After learned how to ride the bikes, my brother and I were off to the races. Around and around the church we would race, riding as hard and as fast as we could in the graveled church parking lot. There was a paved road running in front of our house and a gravel road on the other side of the church. Because of safety reasons our parents would not allow us to ride on the paved road. I would ride bicycles for the next 40 years.

I never got into bicycling as much as my younger brother. He trains on a regularly basis and often rides in RAGBRAI and other bicycle rides. This year my brother is planning a Renwing Spirits Bicycle Tour across America as a fund raiser to help combat mental illness. However, I have taken my children on more bicycle rides than I can count. The three boys and I have ridden many miles together. My daughter and I may not have ridden as many miles together as I have with the boy, however we spent more time talking to each other.

These bicycle rides started when they were in grade school and continued until they were in high school ending when they decided they no longer wanted to ride with their father. On Sunday afternoons our entire family would go to the forest preserve to ride our bicycles. Often my wife and the three boys, leaving our young daughter and myself behind, would ride off heading to the end of the bike trail. Daughter K, either on her tricycle or bicycle with training wheels, would be left to ourselves. There I would be barely able to stay balanced on my bicycle while K would slowly, oh so slowly, pedal along all the while talking telling me all about her week. Many people would walk past us, turn and smile at the two of us talking more than biking. K and I would go about a half-mile before turning around and heading back to the start of the trail. Many times her mother and three older brothers would pass us before we made it back to the start of the trail. However, it is amazing what a person can learn if you just listen.

Other Sundays I would go for a bicycle ride with one or more of the boys. If the forest preserve trails were empty we would practice drafting with front wheel of your bike inches from the rear wheel of the bike in front of you. Were we good at this? I doubt it. Were we the fanciest dressed, were our bicycles the fanciest, or the newest? Absolutely not, however, we always had a great time. We often rode to the end of the trail where we would fill our empty water bottles, rest, and talk before heading back home.

One Sunday afternoon I was riding with our second son when the forest preserve police stopped us. He said we were speeding by doing 19 miles per hour on a road with a 15-mile per hour speed limit. After telling us that, he said he really wanted to tell us he had been following us for a while and thought it was good that a father and a teenage son could have such a good time together.

One summer we met my younger brother and the two older boys, my brother and myself rode the Iowa roads about 20 miles of Iowa roads to my brother’s home. Because we live in a flat area and the part of Iowa where my brother lives is hilly, the boys and I struggled to keep up with their uncle. The boys still talk about that ride.

I loved riding a bicycle. When I was 12 I had operations on both hips and was not able to take up walking or jogging. So I would ride my bicycle. I often came home from work and would go for a quick bike ride either before dinner or after. One summer our oldest son worked at a tire repair garage. He didn’t have a car so would ride his bike to work and back. So I often would ride the 4 or 5 miles to the garage and wait to ride home with him.

Watching that television show the other night brought back these memories. The memory of the burning leg muscles, the dripping chin, the gasping for breath. The memories of being caught miles from home in a sudden unexpected early spring or late autumn cold rain shower. Or riding with the wind and like the wind only to get to a point in the ride when I would remember that I now had to fight the wind on the return ride home. One bike ride I took with our third son started out great. However, before we reached the end of the bike trail, the wind turned and came at us from the north. By the time we made it home we were so cold we both had trouble getting our fingers to unzip our jacket zippers.

Enough all ready. You are all probable saying enough. I need to stop rambling because this is supposed to be a Blog entry, not the beginnings of a book.

Full House

Our oldest son, daughter in-law, and grandson arrived Friday afternoon and are spending a couple of days with us before going to our daughter in-law’s parents. On Saturday our second son came for the weekend. Our third son lives in this area so he is always stopping be to pass the time of day. And our daughter was home last week on spring break from college.

I asked the boys if they would make Fried Chicken using a buttermilk double dipped Fried Chicken recipe from the Food Network. To help with the process, I purchased a 5-quart Lodge Cast Iron Dutch Oven and a couple of splatter screens. After talking to the two oldest boys about the timing issues with frying the chicken, C decided to bring his deep cast iron frying pan with when they came for the weekend. I asked P to buy some chicken legs and thighs and youngest son K, who works at a dairy bottling plant, to bring the buttermilk.

Sunday afternoon daughter K made dark chocolate brownies. She improved them by adding two symphony candy bars to the brownies before baking. After baking the brownies, K baked a pecan pie.

Once the desserts were made and set aside, the real business began. As the boys heated the two cast iron pans of oil and prepared the chicken, daughter in-law K and grandson L made the buttermilk biscuits and mashed potatoes. I sat by the kitchen table soaking up the atmosphere and supervising.

At the end of the day, everyone was full. The chicken was tender and juicy, the mashed potatoes were oh so creamy, the buttermilk biscuits were light and fluffy, and the coleslaw, made earlier in the day, was cool and creamy. Amazingly everyone saved room for either a piece of pecan pie or a piece of rich dark chocolate brownie.

Last night I couldn’t help but remember times when all 7 of us siblings, with our spouses and children, would descend on my parents. However, those stories are for another time.

Having to stay in bed

Last month I posted about how my disease has progressed to the point where I no longer can use the Humid-Vent and will need constant humidified air. The doctor wrote the script, which we forwarded it to the medical Supply Company. After a couple of days the respiratory therapist came to the house to determine what would need to be ordered so I could have a constant supply of humidified air.

Last week Friday morning I saw my pulmonologist. I left the house at 8:30 and arrived back at 12 noon. I was exhausted and my lungs felt dry because I no longer am able to use the Humid-Vent, so I spent the rest of the day in bed with my ventilator connected to the external humidifier which sits on the table by the side of my bed.

Saturday we met our good friends at a local restaurant and spent a wonderful evening of friendship, good food, and visiting. Sunday afternoon we had our Mini-Church group here. By Monday morning, I was exhausted and spent the day in bed so I could be connected to the external humidifier and not have to exhale through the Humid-Vent. I was amazed at how much more energy I have when I do not have to exhale against the resistance of the Humid-Vent. I now have faced the fact that until my ventilator is modified to provide constant humidification, I will have to spend my days in bed and use the external humidifier.

Yesterday morning the therapist called and said the items ordered to modify my ventilator for constant humidification had arrived. However it didn’t appear to be everything needed to modify my ventilator for constant humidification. Yesterday afternoon the therapist came with the box of items and confirmed the fact that there wasn’t enough to modify my ventilator. After a number of phone calls it became clear that I will need a different ventilator. The new ventilator will be the same basic vent, however it will contain the additional circuitry needed to support constant humidification. Unfortunately, the therapist was unable to tell my how long is will be until the new ventilators will arrive. It appears that while the Medical Supply Company has thousands of my ventilators, it has only a few of my model ventilators that support constant humidification.

So it appears I will be spending a lot of time in bed. One nice thing about all of this is I get to look out a different window. When sitting in the recliner in the den I see my neighbor’s bird feeders and a field. I watch the Goldfinch, Juncos and other small birds on the feeders. I also get to watch the hawks and falcons waiting in the trees watching for some prey to swoop down on. In bed I look out on the street and watch the coming and goings of the neighborhood. A change in scenery is nice, keeping one from getting bored.