Occasionally I will share stories that take a closer look at my past, or reflect on events that make me think about times in my life that reflect on themes or rhythms I’m experiencing in life. Sometimes these things are directly related to running and coaching, others are just a way for me to share with you, my readers. These are normally stories or Milestone moments in my life.
An Abrupt Shift
So many of us hold September 11, 2001 in our minds as a day our world changed. I can remember sitting on my parents bed looking up at a small 12 inch TV on the top of my parents dresser, watching the coverage of a plane crashing into the towers looped over and over again. All of this was juxtaposed with warm sunny light streaming into the bedroom - that overwhelming feeling that it was all going to change made the hair on my neck stand up. Little did I know that world would be falling all around me in less than 3 short months.
Losing a mentor
I remember the first funeral I ever attended - my Uncle Don. It was unsettling to be confronted with death at age 7. What’s worse is when you see something as debilitating as a stroke, or multiple strokes whittle someone down from what they were at their prime.
My Grandpa Hank (Miazga) was the man who taught me how to love the outdoors. He caught fish with me, showed me his deer stand in the northwoods of Wisconsin. I distinctly remember his first stroke - he fell out of his tree stand during deer season and while he walked away from it unscathed; no one saw it as a sign of what was ahead. We began to have more of these trips to Rhinelander - each trip and each stroke took a little of him away from us. By his 3rd stroke (January ‘96) he lost his ability to speak and as I remember it- he lost his ability to control the salivary glands in his mouth. He was robbed of his ability to speak and communicate but all you needed was a smile to know that he was still in there. Eventually, we’d lose him to a series of strokes on October 1st, 2001. My Uncle Mark Miazga wrote an amazing book documenting his life Henry Luke Miazga: Story of a Life.
One-Two Punch
October 1st, 2001 is a day that I will never forget. It was hard enough that I was in 8th Grade and had to go through the rigors of wrestling practice after school, that my body was changing, and that I was about to enter high school. It was a cool fall evening and instead of hitting practice after school I got a note to take the bus home. I hadn’t taken the bus home in 6 weeks, I knew Grandpa died. He’d been sick and I was pretty sure that’s why I had to come home - we were leaving again. This time to say our last goodbyes. Even more peculiar was that my dad was at the bus stop, with my mom. My dad wasn’t in his regular suit but rather, jeans and a Bemidji State University sweatshirt. It was on that short walk home I found out that Grandpa had died, oh - and your dad lost his job today from Kellogg’s.
It was this 1-2 Punch that spiraled us into a frenzy of stress and emotions. Were we going to move? London? Minneapolis? Atlanta? Where would mom teach? Where would I go to school? That trip back to Rhinelander was the longest car ride in recorded history. My mom on edge after losing her father, my dad stressed after losing the job he’d had since before I was born. I was in the backseat wondering what it all meant.
Hammer to Fall
I can clearly remember the Sunday my life changed. I was completing the sources cited for my 8th grade research paper. My mom and dad had gone to prompt care together. Mom had been having some headaches lately but this was a bad one - the worst one she’d ever experienced. I can remember being home alone; which was common for me as the only child. Working away diligently on this research paper; I had become completely engrossed into what I was reading. Suddenly, the phone rang and to my surprise my grandmother was on the other line. “You mom has to have emergency surgery, we’re coming to get you”. I wasn’t really sure what to do other than keep on working on what was right in front of me. The doorbell rang, I turned off the monitor - grabbed my coat and made my way to the front door.
A quiet car ride, and the long walk into the Borgess ER has always stuck in the front of my mind. My mom as I knew her was about to change forever. My dad by my mom’s side, my grandfather praying over her, and my grandmother unfazed by the circumstances taking place. As we joined hands to pray, the curtain slid open and the doctor, hands folded bowed his head.
Once the prayer had concluded, the doctor shared that my mother had suffered a stroke and would need immediate surgery. However, the risk was great - this might be the last time I’d see her alive. He shared that the stroke had caused an aneurysm to form in her brain, the equivalent to a weak spot on a hose that could burst at any time. The solution was to drill a hole and put a 3mm titanium clip over the weak spot in her brain to save her life. The surgeon that would be completing this had done this only 2 other times. The opportunity for failure was astronomical, this really could be the last time I hug my mom.
As they wheeled her off for prep, I remember looking in her eyes and seeing a mixture of love, fear, and hope. The person who always told me to fight and be strong was now going to take the ultimate test. She would have to give her love, faith, and trust to the hands of one man to save her.
Reborn
The waiting room of the Intensive Care Unit of any hospital, at any moment, has a population of people who are living and breathing on one emotion - Hope. It was here that I have my first memory of my life post-surgery for Mom. It was here that I did homework, studied, and attempted to live a normal life.
When Mom came out of surgery and was ready to see people I remember that while the physical body was there; the person I remembered had left us. As I remember it, she was plugged to life support, a vent, and was living vicariously through machines. Surgery had caused vasospasms along with cranial swelling that we would come to find out caused short term paralysis. However, this was the least of our problems.
When mom was coherent enough to speak, she had lost a good bit of her memory. Enough that she didn’t recognize me - her only son. She was confused about the people in her life, and even who her siblings were. I distinctly remember her relearning how to use a fork, let alone eat. It was like she was learning everything all over again, like she was reborn and reintroduced to this world.
It was upon watching her walk, fall, stumble, and fail that I learned what strength and persistence meant. To this day, she is as stubborn as they come. It was in recovery that she began to take on a whole new meaning and purpose in my life. It might have been my birthday on the 3rd floor of the hospital, or the first day back home where her entire rehab team seemingly invaded our house. Maybe it was the days I spent at friends houses because my dad was away at the hospital.
Muddy
I’ve never lived through a tornado, a hurricane or a fire - or maybe I have. It was the next 3 years of my life that I lose sight of. I have but a handful of pictures - many of them are with people that I don’t talk to now. It was a messy, tough time in my life.
It wasn’t enough to lose 2 people in my life that I cared deeply about, it was about to get a whole lots messier. In the 6 months following my Mom’s return home my parents decided that their marriage of 26 years was no longer valid. The stress of job change for my dad, my mom’s struggle and eventual failure to return to work tore them apart. I clearly remember the conversation and the words of my father… your mother is no longer the person I woke up next to for the last 26 years.
In so many ways my father was right but did it really have to change right now? We were just about to go on summer break and I was loading boxes into Mom’s maroon Subaru to take over to her new apartment. You see, the court said that this was my weekend with my mom and she didn’t have furniture yet. So tonight’s dinner is on top of a cardboard box in the middle of the living room.
9 Months ago I was a normal kid - 2 loving parents and a seemingly great life. I was fully reliant on my parents for everything and I was pretty stoked that I could microwave Mac & Cheese and play Playstation after school. Now I’m cooking, cleaning, and doing my own laundry; mediating arguments between my parents and trying to figure out my identity in the process.