On Sanctification

If you are anything like me, the same sins repeatedly rear their ugly heads.  I mess up.  I get frustrated, I confess and ask for forgiveness, I move on, only to feel like it is Groundhog Day a couple of days (or hours) later.  I begin to feel the weight of Satan's lies, telling me that I cannot change.

One day, though, I stumbled across this little beauty, and I was reminded of the gradual process that sanctification is.  I'm a broken man, who, despite good intentions, continue to practice patterns.  I no longer enjoy the sin.  No longer is my sorrow due to consequences or my own standards, but because I have grieved the one who loved me enough to die for me.  So, I suppose some progress is being made.  It's just hard for the pessimist in me to see it.  But The Show Ponies lent a hand.  They pain a beautiful image of us, the flawed, imperfect bride of Christ, as so much of our life is driven by fear of how other people perceive us.  We know that as believers, we are supposed to shine a light, show the joy within us, and all of that, but often it comes at the price of being genuine (it is possible to show a light within us without producing fake happiness, but that is a whole other topic).  Instead, we are not genuine, and we try to hide our brokenness from those around us.  We are saved, for there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ, but we repeatedly return to the habits born of sinful flesh.  And, typically, we pretend it didn't happen, or excuse ourselves.  We don't want to admit our habits and investments have damaged us.    But with every little decision that leads to choosing Jesus over ANYTHING, we draw nearer and nearer to the day that we realize that whatever held us no longer does.  The patterns we've created will no longer be appealing (though it may still be some time before we break free of them), and whatever identity we held apart from a follower of Christ will lose its value.  As we head on toward eternity, we come more and more to resemble the bride we are called to be.  We can't afford, on our own, to fix the damage.  But we belong to the one who can.

I Regress - The Show Ponies

So I tried to do my best
In a tattered wedding dress
And I'm telling you I'm blessed
But reluctant to confess
That I regress
I regress

And I'm telling you I'm saved
But still hold on to those days
While pretending I'm unscathed
I still sing the same refrain
But I regress
I regress

So I'm waiting on the words
That will make me want to turn
Against the patterns I have learned
Against the patterns I have earned
But I regress
I regress
I regress
I regress

As we're headed to that place
That dress gets whiter every day
Mend the tears and sew the lace
Calm my fears and show me grace
Or I regress
I regress
I regress
I regress

Grant me, Lord, What I can't afford
To be made right, to be restored
Take not thy spirit from my chest
Or I regress Lord I regress

Grant me Lord, what I can't afford
To be made right, to be restored
Take not thy spirit from my chest
Or I regress Lord I regress

Grant me Lord what I can't afford
To be made right, to be restored
Take not they spirit from my chest
Or I regress Lord I regress

Oh, draw me near, or I regress

Community

This morning, I was reflecting on how blessed I really am.  There are certainly a lot of reasons for this, but specifically, I was thinking about the community that God has made me a part of.

Friday, my classmates and I completed Clinical Conferences, a set of capstone presentations for the WSU PT program.  I have anticipated these since I was a senior in the Exercise Science undergrad program at WSU, waiting to start physical therapy school.  What a road it would be.  I wasn't sure initially how well I fit in with my classmates at first, but over the course of the next couple of years, I came to realize that they accepted me despite my pessimism and bad puns.  We supported one another, encouraged each other, strove alongside one another, and battled to keep each other afloat.  Now, we're all but done.

That night, my wife and I went to a barn dance fundraiser for ICT SOS.  It was a good time with friends from church (despite a re-aggravation of an ankle injury, which is another story).  However, the rain had been steadily falling all day, and at the dance's end, there were many vehicles stuck in the mud.  Several of the men I have been blessed enough to be in community with over the last few years responded without much (if any) thought for self.  Together, several of us pushed cars out to the gravel drive.  Shoes, jeans, and the Crow family front yard were sacrificed in the process, but we successfully removed all but one car in relatively short order.  I was truly humbled by the servant hearts of the other men I walk with.  I was encouraged deeply.  Several of them needed to be up early the next morning.  A couple were still in work clothes, having come straight to the dance from other engagements.  But people needed help, and those things were but trifling details.  The literally put their shoulders to the loads of others and served selflessly.  And I loved knowing God put these guys in my life.

The following morning, several of the same group of people and I set out to essentially reconstruct a beach as a work project to raise money for a mission trip that one of the girls in our college group is going on.  It was a pretty decent expanse of sand, and there weren't many of us to carry out the work, but we were all willing and able.  My glutes and obliques even now remind me of how much sand I shoveled, raked,  and wheeled, but I didn't even do as much of the work as a couple others.  In addition to the physical work, one of our guys that wasn't able to be there called to make sure the project was going alright.  It was a small step, but it demonstrated that he cared.  He would have been there if he could have.  Again, I was humbled.  I was encouraged.  I am beyond thrilled to be a part of this community.

And to think, I almost missed out.

I never wanted to go to Wichita State. I wanted a change of scenery- literally.  There isn't much in Kansas for outdoor activities.  I wanted to try more scenic places, or, at least, different places.  Yet, I knew I was called here.  Sometimes the Spirit makes things clear without a shadow of a doubt.  You just feel it.  You can't put your finger on how you know, but you do.  That was me.  But I wanted to be Jonah.  I wanted to run, literally and figuratively.  I went to Butler on a track scholarship and wanted to use that to take me away from Wichita.  I looked several places, but in short, it wasn't to be.  Injuries and finances kept me in Wichita.  And I was bitter about it.  It took the combined efforts of two dear friends to bring me to Christian Challenge in the first place, and at first, I wanted nothing to do with the people there.  I wanted to listen to the sermons and leave without engaging anyone there.  But that soon changed.  The investment there that I received from various men led to me deciding to try church there.  I liked it.  And I stuck with it.  I started to walk a different path of faith.  I was truly pursuing God wholeheartedly for the first time in my life.

Worth noting is that during this time, I met my now-wife.  I thought she was cute.  But I also thought she was too smart and refined for my taste and really thought I was barking up the wrong tree.  And I also wasn't satisfied with Wichita, even considering.

I looked into other physical therapy schools.  I had been impressed with Norman, Oklahoma when I had passed through for track meets in the past.  So I looked at OU.  Our director at Wichita State had actually done a fellowship in La Crosse, Wisconsin, so I looked into UW-La Crosse.  As a Badger fan, I looked at the University of Wisconsin's main campus at Madison, which I knew was a very prestigious program.  Lastly, having heard many good things about Utah from my dad, Outside magazine, and various friends on Facebook, I looked into the University of Utah's program as well.  But the problem I ran into was that a single year at any of these programs would have cost me the same as a full year at WSU.  So, again, I felt somewhat trapped at first, but then realized I could do clinical rotations nearly anywhere in the United States while at WSU.  So, I pursued those options.  I elected Minnesota and Boise as sites for internships.  Well, most of you know that about halfway through my first year of PT school, I finally fell madly in love with the woman that is now my wife.  We started dating.  We got engaged.  I decided I didn't want to be 18 hours away from her while planning a wedding, so I switched the Boise rotation to Grand Island, Nebraska, so I could help with wedding planning.  In the end, both rotations made me more deeply appreciate the community I had in Wichita.  People moved to Wichita specifically to go to River.  That significance struck me became more and more pertinent as I floundered away from home.  God wanted me at WSU.  I didn't want to be here.  But because of being here, I was blessed with quite the community of fellow believers at River.  I was blessed with a family rather than mere classmates in our little program at WSU's PT department.  NOTE:  Little refers to the small number of people, but in no way does it refer to the power of this program.  I feel our graduates could stack up against most programs in this nation, pound for pound.

It is one of those severe mercies C.S. Lewis speaks of, I suppose.  I wasn't able to pursue what I thought I wanted.  I did mourn those opportunities, to be sure.  I wanted to run track for an NAIA powerhouse in Ohio.  I wanted to be surrounded my mountains or at least forest as I learned joint mobilizations and neuromuscular facilitation techniques.  But how much would those things matter in 20 years when I have kids that are almost grown?  Not that much compared to the lessons on life and faith I learned right here in Wichita, attending Wichita State, and walking through life with the believers at River.  I could have learned them in those places, too, but I really feel that the earthly distractions of those places would have conquered my heart.  It's one of those things I feel.

My time in Wichita isn't done yet.  I don't want to leave River.  I want to give back to Wichita State's physical therapy program someday, maybe as a faculty member, maybe as a clinical instructor.  Maybe some of both, at different life stages.  I want to raise my kids alongside the friends I've made here, who have walked in faith right by my side for these last few years.  Maybe God has other plans down the road, but for right now, I am to be faithful with this calling.

We were all made for community.  We flounder without it.  And I'm glad I learned it the hard way.

Tour de Frick

I didn't do much this previous week.  I have to be honest.  What did I do? 

I'm working on my inservice project for the clinic, a school requirement.  I'm doing the project on nutrition in physical therapy- just kind of exploring the roles that proper nutrition can play in overall health and healing.  It has been interesting thus far.  Eat your purple vegetables, guys.  Phytochemicals are important.

I took on a fuller role at the clinic this week.  Friday, I filled in for a sick PTA and practically took a whole schedule on my own.  Uff-da.  I'm still struggling to be efficient with my paperwork time, but I'm doing alright.  I missed one day with a killer migraine, independently taped a patellar tracking issue (Doug, McConnell taping is great), used MTI stuff on probably four lumbar evaluations, and dazzled a patient with my knowledge of the foot and ankle (again, thanks, Doug, you're making me look good out here).  Unfortunately, the same patient had the most disgusting feet I have ever worked with.  Manual therapy became a test of how long I could hold my breath, and the smell from my hands is still on my cart and laptop at work.  It is atrocious.

I had a patient suffer a heart attack (not on my watch), but therapy is looking a lot different.  She can't do much now, and the doctor has basically given up on her.  It's a shame for a lot of reasons, but she was making soooo much progress... it's really hard to see her now, really unable to do a lot of the things she had progressed to in the last week.  That's been the rough one to deal with.

Overall, I'm continuing to feel more and more like a real therapist.  Granted, I have a ton to learn, and I'm okay with that.  But I at least feel like I belong here now.  And not a moment too soon- I am nearing the end of my time in Marshall.

Being so close to the end of my rotation, I realized that my "bucket list" needs addressed.  I have yet to catch a Northern Pike.  I have yet to see a loon.  I haven't made it into the Northwoods yet.  And I hadn't ridden the Camden Trail, either.  Until Saturday morning.

Given my recent travels and knowing I needed to take things easy, I decided to stay home this weekend.  So, I chose to sleep in, eat a good breakfast, get a workout in, and spend the day in a local coffee shop.  Well, after breakfast, I was watching the Tour de France.  I enjoy cycling quite a bit- it's kind of like running, except with wheels.  Stands to reason that I should like it.  Anyhow, after watching for 45 minutes or so, I remembered that I had yet to ride the Camden Trail- a 30 mile round trip from Marshall to the local state park.  So, I got up, turned off the TV, put on a helmet, and set out.  

Literally that impulsively.  Time from decision to execution:  7 minutes.

Time from execution to regret:  10 minutes.

Time from regret to considering quitting:  10 minutes.

Time from regret to stubbornness overriding regret:  10 minutes.  So, 30 minutes in, I was on the opposite end of Marshall from where I had started, and I was completely committed to completing the ride.  Unfortunately, the first half of the route is uphill and into the wind.  To make matters worse, the nuts on my seat are so old that I couldn't loosen them to adjust the seat height, so I totally lacked any mechanical advantage at all.  Plus, no aero grips, so my upper body was suffering from supporting myself on the handlebars.  

A couple of times, I think I actually stopped moving on the way out into the 15 mph wind (yes, I'm aware that it isn't significant, but it felt significant while also pedaling uphill).

After 69 minutes, I had reached the 15.2 mile mark.  I took a moment to make sure my tire pressure was good, and turned back for Marshall.  Now, bear in mind that I was moving downhill and with the wind.  The trip that took 69 minutes out required only 47 minutes to complete going the other way.  Not a bad negative split.  Anyway, my quads, glutes, and calves are still sore and I felt like a moron.  But I also feel awesome.  Because I crossed something significant off of my bucket list.  And, sadistically, I kind of want to do it again.  I think with a good bike in the future, I'll be able to complete some solid rides.  

Now, next weekend will be my last to travel.  I'm hoping to address the remainder of my bucket list in the Brainerd area.  

Until next time.

 

Lions, Tigers, Bears, Badgers, and Gophers- Oy.

What a week/weekend, ladies and gents.  What a weekend.  As the woman working at Stillwater's Valley Booksellers told me, "You don't see fifty states by sitting at home."  I now believe I am up to 18.  So, a long way to go, but lots of life (hopefully, God willing) yet to live.

So, where to begin?

How about the clinic?

It was a shortened week, but probably the most exciting one so far.  My CI has upped my independent case load to about 55% of what a new graduate would be seeing- so, about 4-5 patients a day.  I have found that my engagement, interest, effort, and energy have all improved when I am the one in almost complete control of a patient.  I'm starting to feel like I really, really like what I'm doing.  Probably the most significant moment where this played in was seeing my first patient through an entire course of treatment.  I evaluated her, developed a plan, and discharged her this past week.  She is a very friendly lady, an EMT in a nearby county who was referred to us with carpal tunnel syndrome.  During the evaluation, I realized that her symptoms didn't match.  I put her through a series of tests to determine whether or not she may be suffering from a condition called thoracic outlet syndrome, in which the nerves, artery, or vein (and often a combination thereof) leaving the neck gets trapped somewhere in the shoulder, thus causing numbness in the hands.  When her radial pulse disappeared upon turning her head, I confirmed my own suspicions.  We informed the referring physician, who said he would order a nerve conduction study, but, in the meantime, asked that we treat her as though our working diagnosis were correct.  After some nerve milking, nerve flossing, postural and scapular strengthening exercises, she reported no symptoms and feeling better than she had in months or years.  The two of us could scarcely have been more excited when I discharged her.  She felt better.  I had done something right.  It was a good tradeoff.

As exciting as the week was (and believe me when I say it really was), Saturday alone was an adventure.

My day started at 5:00 AM with a red grapefruit (shockingly, sweet and not at all bitter), some almonds, and some English Breakfast tea, as well as a difficult decision.  I grabbed a Wichita State t-shirt and my Royals cap, then started questioning whether it was a good idea.  I thought that wearing my Kansas apparel would make me an obvious tourist and a target for... well, I'm not sure what, but I questioned whether it was a good idea.  And kept questioning for about ten minutes before deciding to go with it.  I left home a little after 5:20.

My first destination was a little town of about the same size as Marshall, and, ironically, the third option on my clinical request list that was submitted for this summer- Hudson, Wisconsin.  So, realistically, I could have ended up there almost as easily as I ended up in Marshall, but God had a plan, and here I am.

Getting there didn't seem like a bit deal.  I took two lane highways almost all the way into The Cities (you don't call them the Twin Cities up here.  Just "The Cities"), but when I merged onto I-494... I started to get a little stressed.  Never in my life had I seen a highway with three directional options- East, West, and North.  Did I want to go North or East?  I knew I didn't want West... what to do?  While the traffic wasn't much worse than I-135 on a busy day in Wichita, I took a deep breath and went East.  Good choice.  I got where I was going.  I crossed the St. Croix River (quite a sight, honestly) into Hudson a little before 8:30 in the morning.  I made a beeline for Target with one thing on my mind:  I wanted a Wisconsin Badgers polo.  And I found one.  Along with a sale on trail mix.  My favorite kind, too, the Chocolate Cranberry Crunch.  So I got a bag of that, as well, and continued along my merry way, north through Wisconsin for a few miles.  And it was beautiful.  I doubt the entire state looks like that, but it was absolutely gorgeous.  After fifteen minutes driving north, I re-crossed the St. Croix across a cool old bridge into the peaceful little tourist town of Stillwater, Minnesota.

I parked the car and took a few pictures, then turned around to see how to approach the little riverside shopping district.  I was a little hungry and the first thing to catch my eye was my favorite sort of place- a coffee shop and book store under the same roof.  So, I made a beeline for The Daily Grind Espresso Cafe (not to be confused with the one in Marshall), where I ordered a coffee and walnut scone, both of which were just about the best of each I had ever had.  The woman working the counter in the bookstore, seeing my WSU shirt and KC Royals hat, called me over to the counter and informed me that she was from Wyandotte, KS and had attended K-State.  We chatted briefly before I started exploring.

Now, let me tell you all that if a runner lived in Stillwater, they could expect to have prolific thighs and glutes.  There were some seriously steep hills in town, but they allowed for views like this.

Probably the greatest highlight of Stillwater was the Stillwater Farm Store.  I would have spent quite a bit of money on gifts (and myself) if I had money to spend.  There were a great deal of items ranging from candles to food to birdfeed and feeders to pet goods.  However, the best part was feeling a soft, damp feeling against the back of my life, and turning around to find a British Labrador named Cash pressing up against the back of my leg, freshly bathed, holding his ducky in his mouth, and wanting very badly to play.  I knelt to oblige him, when his friend, Cooper, came to play, too.  I spent longer than I care to admit on the floor of this store with the two dogs, playing with them and their ducky.  I'm in quite a few other tourists' photos, I think, playing with them, but I don't mind.  I like dogs.



I think the sign was what Cash was thinking at that moment.  Dogs love anybody that will play with them, right?  That wasn't the only cool sign they had, though.

Not that any of you fall into that category.  Anyway.  I stopped into another coffee shop to use their restroom shortly thereafter, and was wowed by the atmosphere.

Inside of an old industrial building on the river, Tin Bins was a pretty happening spot.  Should I ever return to Stillwater, I will be going here.  The temptation exists to return next weekend, too, though I doubt I will, as it is the annual Lumberjack Days.  There will probably be too many people for the little town, and besides, I don't know that I want to make a three hour drive in consecutive weeks.  

Anyhow, to continue the story, I again heard someone calling to me, and met a lady from Garden Plain.  She had lived in Stillwater some thirty years now, but was a WSU alum whose brother was a survivor of the infamous plane crash over Colorado in the seventies.  We chatted for a while before I continued my day.  There were some cool bookstores and kitchen stores and boutiques and such in Stillwater, and some neat old historical buildings.  Had I not made other plans for lunch, I would have tried any one of the several tempting options along Main Street.  However, Como Zoo and Conservatory called my name.

I made it there completely stress-free.  The struggle, though, was finding parking.  I circled the park for longer than I will openly admit on this blog before finding a parking space, but I made it into the zoo.  It is a very small zoo with no set admission price- just donation-based.  But boy, was it crowded.  I made the joke to a father with three small children that I didn't have any kids- I was just an agoraphobic facing my fear.  He corrected me promptly, reminding me that agoraphobes are afraid of open spaces; enochlophobes are afraid of crowds.  Well-played.  Anyhow, after another KC family complemented my choice of hat, I continued on into the zoo.  The first thing I saw was something I don't believe I have ever seen before- harbor seals.

They were awesome.  My favorite animals at the Sedgwick County Zoo (which I miss dearly) are the river otters.  Seals are like otters on steroids.  I watched them for quite some time, but moved on eventually because of the crowd.  The next thing, again, was something I had never seen- sea lions!  Of course I thought of this:  

I also laughed pretty hard at a guy wearing a shirt that said, "Guns don't kill people.  George R.R. Martin kills people."

I also learned that zebras are, in fact, black, with white stripes.

Other animals included polar bears, tigers, lions, caribou, Dall's Sheep, giraffes, ostriches, lemurs, arctic foxes, wolves, and an anaconda.

I met a family from Newton, KS in the rainforest, where I also saw a Bill Maher lookalike.

Worth noting is that the spider monkeys seemed every bit as interested in watching people as the people were interested in watching them.

In the conservatory, I learned that in Japanese gardens, every stone takes upwards of an hour to place, as every attribute must be considered and the most beautiful location and angle must be selected.  Although, after walking around the seemingly nonsensical layout for a while, I realized why some of the game maps for the Pokemon series look the way they did.

Anyway, my visit to the garden and zoo showed me that my selection of Kansas apparel wasn't a bad thing.  To those that cared nothing about the Royals or Shockers, my clothes weren't even noticeable.  I was just a guy in a gold shirt.  To those who cared, it was an invitation for connection.  So, that was kind of cool.

After the zoo, I went to a little location I saw on an episode of Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives- Kramarczuk's.  I was blown away.  The service was remarkable friendly.  I ordered a six-varenyky mean (Ukrainian pierogis) along with a Ukrainian kale and sunflower side salad.  The cashier told me that two of my varenyky appeared to have been "rough-housed" and only charged me for four of them, plus the side salad.  And it was all good.  I would have taken pictures, but I was too hungry to, and besides, I think it is silly when people do that.  I also think pictures in mirrors are silly, otherwise I would show you all my new Wisconsin Badgers polo, which I look pretty sharp in, if I do say so myself.  I plan on wearing it to work tomorrow (under threat of being fired by the clinic manager and having rotten eggs thrown at me by patients).

After lunch, I decided to check out the University.  It wasn't far.  It was also the worst decision of my life.  Free parking doesn't exist in Dinkytown or on campus, and I could find nowhere to park in order to explore campus or to find out where the visitor center was or compose myself after an ill-advised turn the wrong way on a one-way street.  I eventually parked illegally at the post office just to breathe for a little bit, then decided to leave.  Already under stress, the road I needed was under construction, so my directions were worthless.  I took an alternate route, I-94.  Ten or twelve lanes of traffic.  And a traffic jam- though the locals would probably hardly call it that.  It looked like Kellogg at rush hour- and it was about 5:00 on a SATURDAY.  Once traffic started moving though, it really wasn't particularly intimidating.  The speed limit on the highways in the cities was only 55, so it wasn't really too nutso.  Eventually, I made it to Eden Prairie, where I stopped for dinner and some much-needed relaxation at Barnes and Noble. 

However, I noticed people staring at me in the mall.  I wasn't sure why until I stopped into a restroom.  Apparently, somewhere along the way, as a result of the stress I was experiencing during my drive in The Cities, I had ruptured blood vessels in my eyes.  I looked like some kind of an addict with my bloodshot eyes.  No wonder.

Anyhow, after some time in the mall, especially the bookstore, I felt much better, and continued uneventfully the rest of the way home.

So, with about three weekends left here in Marshall, I intend to take one more excursion, and I think it will be north for a more outdoorsy experience.  Not sure which lake I'm headed to, but I plan on some hiking and fishing.  No more big city experiences for this guy until I have to drive through Omaha (possibly at lunch hour, if the current plan holds) on my way home.

Until next time, ladies and gents.

In Which Jameson Starts an Internet Rumor

Well, I must be honest.  I had a fairly nondescript week.  Except for the whole Independence Day thing.  So, this will be a fairly brief update.

I've been vastly more independent in the clinic this last week.  I'm beginning to feel more confident, and my CI and I had a discussion in which we sort of ironed out some of the concerns I had with my own technique and that sort of thing, and things are going very well.  I don't yet feel ready to be an independent clinician, but I do feel like that is a possibility at some point in the future.

Saturday saw me visiting a coffee shop and going French style for breakfast- a slice of quiche and some (a lot of) coffee, as well as some time spent writing.  In the afternoon, I took a trip to yet another state park, the Upper Sioux Agency State Park near Granite Falls, MN.  It has some history, being a former government location for the Sioux, an old vocational school, military housing, and even (supposedly) an old chief's tomb.  It provided some views that were a bit on the unique side for the part of Minnesota I have been in so far.

However, for the first time since I have been up here, I didn't feel totally safe.  I also knew that my fears were completely unfounded- there are really no animals in this part of the state that I need worry about.  No cougars, no bears, no moose, no wolves, not even any feral hogs.  Venomous snakes are extremely rare.  It was also the first park I have ventured into that was almost totally bereft of other visitors, which I found very unusual.  That is undoubtedly the source for my fears.  It made me reflect quite a bit on how so many of our fears are totally unfounded- we worry, worry, worry, only to come to a place where we realize we had absolutely nothing to worry about.  Although, occasionally, our fears are not totally unfounded.

Sunday was a far more laid back day.  After church, I watched the beginning of the Iceland vs France Euro match, which turned out to not really be much of a soccer match, but rather a bloodletting.  I lost interest in the first half and went to my books, reading a decent chunk of CS Lewis's "Surprised by Joy."  Later that evening, a fellow intern at Big Stone came over for dinner.  I had prepared some country ribs in the crock pot along with some pasta salad, corn on the cob, and Bush's beans.  And, of course, some peach crisp.  Which was marvelous.  We had some good, meaningful conversation, centered mostly around our shared faith.  It was welcome, to be sure.

Monday was also fairly laid back. I went fishing and caught a handful of bullheads, but nothing worth keeping.  I also had a tail-less woodchuck come and visit me.  He probably sat a good three feet from me for some length of time, not seeming to mind my presence in the least.  It is this reckless nature I dare say probably led to the loss of his tail.  It was not the only close encounter of the rodent kind I had, as previously, at Upper Sioux, I had the pleasure of being within five feet of a tiny little rabbit.  He also didn't seem to care that I was there.

As I fished on Monday, every hour, the local church belltower played out patriotic melodies.  I enjoyed that quite a bit, along with the weather, which only improved as the evening went on.  I went with my fellow intern to Marshall's 4th of July celebration, complete with a municipal band playing patriotic tunes and a local illusionist.  I did watch the fireworks display from my patio, too, and it was almost chilly.  Didn't seem much like the 4th, but I kept a checklist to see whether it really was or not.  See as follows:

Stereotypically American Things I Did July 4, 2016

-Watched documentaries on History Channel about America

- Wore red, white, and blue

- Ate excessive amounts of red meat slathered in BBQ sauce

- Said 'Murica at least once

-Said "Sun's out, guns out"

-Watched fireworks

Stereotypically Un-American Things I Did July 4, 2016

-Did NOT skip cardio

-Did NOT bench press

-Wore short shorts while not skipping cardio

-Used my bike as transportation

By a score of 6-4, it does seem that it was, in fact, Independence Day.

That was my week.  We'll see what the next one holds, as I am planning on a journey to parts east of here.  Stay tuned.

Also, in case you missed the title of this post, or weren't able to put two and two together, that bear track is an internet stock photo.  Let's see who reads all the way through this post.  

Thousands, Upon Thousands of Words

They say a picture is worth a thousand words.  Well, I have several for you today.  I also have a few hundred written words, probably.  And clinical situations involving words.  Among other things.  But where to begin?  Hmm.  I could start any number of places, really.  So, I think I'll start in the clinic for a change.

It has been up and down.  No shades of gray there.  For every patient where I feel like I know exactly what I'm doing, I get one or two that make me feel like I'm never going to be a good therapist.  I know that isn't necessarily the truth, however.  I'm not particularly efficient in documentation (I'll get there, the process is just very uncomfortable).  I am not especially creative most of the time (I have moments of brilliance).  And almost worst of all, I don't know what to do with personalities I don't mesh with.  We had some great instruction on the topic, and I know, in theory, why I don't mesh with the other party (usually). The problem is that I don't know how to work through/around it.  I have one elderly lady that will not speak to me.  No matter what I say, or how I say it, she won't speak to me.  She is perfectly sweet and friendly toward my CI, however.  I also a really hard time when a patient talks- and won't stop.  I am generally pretty good at slipping in the "let's do this exercise next... I'm sorry, what were you saying about your nephew?"  However, there have been a couple where they so dominate the conversation that I can't even slip that in there.  I don't want to be rude, but I struggle heavily with knowing how to redirect a 95 year old woman who cares more about the fact that she is getting new glasses than the fact that I am there to try and evaluate her as a fall risk.

That being said, I have some patients that I absolutely love and cannot wait to chat with- even if we don't speak the same language.  I took a tip from our cultural competency class and always address the patient, looking them in the eye, even if they need a translator and don't understand a word I am saying.  I have had some of the best conversations of the whole trip with a patient from Guatemala- mostly through his son, serving as an interpreter.

I've also seen some unusual cases in the clinic... my CI evaluated a patient for vertigo who seemed, upon further questioning, to be suffering from low blood sugar.  After nearly vomiting and passing out during a Dix-Hallpike, I questioned him further to find he hadn't eaten anything in three days.  Come to find out at the follow-up visit, a bowl of oatmeal cured his dizziness that afternoon and he had been fine since.  Not exactly therapy, but proof that we, as a profession, need to be aware of pathology originating in other realms of wellness.

Now, what have I been up to?  Oh, not much, I guess.  After going home for the wedding of some very dear friends, I spent the ensuing weekend doing a lot of nothing- watching hunting videos on Youtube, reading, writing, hanging out in coffee shops, etc.  But this past weekend, I went on an adventure.  I went to Palisades State Park (near Garretson, SD)...

And Sioux Falls!

Now, Palisades was beautiful.  Those of you who are Facebook friends with me can see the rest of the photos there, but let me tell you a little of the story.  So, I started exploring.  Of course, I thought the park was quite beautiful.  I hiked for a while before all of a sudden I hear a loud rustling behind me.  I can't quite get turned around in time before I feel something soft slam into the back of my legs.  I yelled and tried to get a better view of my assailant, only to find that my assailant wasn't an assailant at all... it was Bailey.

She was super friendly.  She had been vaccinated in Moscow, Idaho, so for a minute, I was worried about how she ended up with me on the trail.  The phone number, though, was a local one.  So, I hiked on, with my new friend loping along beside me, occasionally dashing off after a squirrel or going for a brief swim in the river, but always returning, tail wagging and asking for attention.  She proved to be a good trail guide, though.  At one point, I encountered this guy.

While I am no Trey Harrison, I was quickly able to determine this snake was not venomous.  The problem was, I wasn't sure what kind of snake it was (my first thought was kingsnake, but correct me if I'm wrong), or if it would be aggressive at all.  So, I stood for a bit, trying to decide what to do, when Bailey got impatient, ran forward, and began pawing at the snake.  He slithered off into the underbrush, leaving the trail totally clear.  Bailey turned back toward me, wagging her tail, and looking rather like she was smiling, obviously quite pleased with herself.  Onward we went. 

In the end, Bailey was with me for about an hour and a half, a good portion of which I spent walking through the campground trying to see if anyone would claim her.  No one did, so I left her at the park office.  The head guy (whatever the term is... I somehow don't think Park Ranger applies to state parks) wanted me to take her.  I would have loved to, but aside from the fact that she obviously belonged to someone, I had no place to keep her.  So, after parting ways with my new friend, I went on to Sioux Falls.

My adventures there were actually not so adventurous, probably.  I had lunch with a local celebrity (a meteorological whiz, let me tell you).  Then, I made an excursion to the South Dakota Peach Festival.  Judging by the line of cars, I would have thought this was a pretty big deal.  As it turned out, it was darn near a waste of time, unless you

      A)  Had little kids that would have been able to enjoy the countless inflatables

      B)  Came hungry, as there were tons of tantalizing food truck options

      C)  Had lots of money to spend on crafty things ranging from scarves to peach preserves

That being said, I came away with a bag of trail mix and free peach cobbler and peach ice cream.  Not a bad haul for a 45 minute excursion.

Later that afternoon, I visited Downtown Sioux Falls.  It started raining almost immediately, and I took refuge in Duluth Trading Co.  One free coffee, a few manly books, and a wide variety of items necessary for complete manliness ogled later, and I decided Wichita needs one.  I'll be starting a petition soon (complete with hashtag).  #ictneedsduluth

After the rain stopped (and after sitting in the Duluth front window with three employees and a friendly old man, watching some pour soul's Volkswagen convertible filling with water, all of us drinking coffee and discussing what a shame it was), I continued along.  There were a great many shops and restaurants I wouldn't mind re-visiting, should I return.

Next, I visited Falls Park, the highlight of the trip, I think.  It was a really neat set of waterfalls, which formerly powered the Queen Bee Mill, a key player in the commerce of a developing Sioux Falls.  There was even a restaurant, the Overlook Cafe, in the park.  It would have been a great place to grab a bite to eat, but it wasn't quite dinner.  So, on I went.

After grabbing dinner and a few grocery items, I returned to Marshall, which, I realized, I haven't posted any photos of.  So, here are a couple.



 This is a statue dedicated to Marshall's birthday...

And this is the 9/11 Memorial that gained national headlines a few years ago.  I'll let you look it up if you really want to know more.

Anyhow, that's my update.  I feel I've exhausted my words... so... until next time... La revedere.

An Update

Hello all!  It has been a little while since my last update, but part of that could be because not a whole lot of any real interest has occurred.  I still feel somewhat obliged to provide you with an update, so that you are aware I have not fallen off the face of the planet.  So, here goes.

When last I left you, I was about to go to Cottonwood Lake to try my luck at walleye fishing.  A nice lady who was walking by with her grandson told me her neighbor had caught several decent walleyes on the other end of the lake and told me how to get there.  I was about to pack up and go when I had my first bite.  And soon thereafter, lost the fish.  This game continued for some length of time- several bites, followed by lost fish, which activated the competitive streak that resides within me.  After awhile, I finally hauled in a handful of my bait-robbing adversaries- bullheads.  They eat as good as anything, so I took them home, cleaned them (with significant difficulty), and fried them up a few days later for dinner.  This, however, is almost unheard of in Minnesota.  Patients and coworkers are shocked and I might even go as far as to say disgusted to hear that I would eat bullheads.  Nearly everyone has asked me if I have ever heard of walleye, and why, if I had, I would ever eat bullheads.  Upon explaining that I love walleye but that I find nothing wrong with catfish, the locals are equally shocked upon discovering that bullheads are, in fact, merely a small species of catfish.

Speaking of patients.  I have been enjoying the caseload that I share quite a bit.  I now see maybe 3 patients a day somewhat independently- with my CI observing and offering advice here and there.  I've really started enjoying working on functional balance with elderly patients.  I was reminded why I'm doing what I am doing by one particular lady in the local retirement community that laughed at me when I told her I wanted her to stand on an Airex pad while playing catch with me ("You realize I'd have to let go of my walker, right?")  The excitement she exhibited when she was able to do so (with my CI lightly holding a gait belt) was energizing.  The next treatment, I held a can of tuna in one hand to simulate a high shelf, and suggested that my other hand, at waist height, was a countertop.  With confidence, she started moving the tuna can from shelf to countertop and back, absolutely beaming all the while.  As she left that day, she took my hand and told me I was crazy, but that she loved me and knew she was in good hands.  If I barely stumble through the rest of this rotation, that makes the whole thing for me.

I've also found that the "pretzel" exercise that our very own Mike Rogers introduced us to very early on is somewhat of a novelty- but a very highly valued one.  Same can be said for progressing 4-Way Ankle exercises with a resistance band by adding a toe curl.  I'm excited to see how the two posterior tib patients I'm seeing respond over time.  Don't worry, Doug, I'll throw the TC manip in there soon enough.  The dorsal glide has already had some results.

Away from the clinic, I rented The Force Awakens the other day.  I'd give a movie review, but the DVD drive on my laptop has apparently stopped working, so I was unable to watch it.

My latest wilderness adventure was Lake Shetek State Park, the site of a Lakota raid on a settlement near the lake.  I believe twelve settlers, including women and children, lost their lives, and the rest survived by hiding in a slough, now called Slaughter Slough.  The twelve deceased were buried in a mass grave which is now marked by a very large, though very plain monument.  The original site of the cabin at which the first lives were lost is also marked.  The foundation has sunk deep into the earth, leaving a fairly deep impression in the forestland that almost serves as monument in itself without the added historical marker.

What has been interesting to me is the number of bird species I have seen in Minnesota.  There are the expected- cormorants, a variety of ducks (teal, wigeon, wood duck, mallard), plenty of shorebirds (including a Green Heron, which I had never seen before), etc.  There are several species of flycatcher, I've seen evening grossbeak (not a species I've seen in KS), bobolink, yellow-headed blackbird, a flock of cedar waxwings, pine siskin, goldfinch, and more species of swallow than I ever realized even lived in the continental US.  What I have not seen are snakes and turtles.  I've also noted that the deer are considerably larger than what we have here.

Oh!  And note I said "here."  Like, the 316.  Wichita.  I am back.  Briefly.  I was honored to be a part of a terrific wedding of two people I care very deeply about (you know who you are).  So, that means I had to make the journey back- all 8.5 hours.  And you know what?  I wasn't even bored until the stretch between Omaha and Topeka.  Why?

Well, driving through Iowa was pretty great.  Good radio station, for starters.  Secondly, I-29 from Sioux City to Council Bluffs follows some really pretty country.  Also, there is something to be said for leaving at 6 AM.  It didn't feel like traveling ate up my whole day.

Well, anyhow, that brings you up to speed.  I return to the relative cool of SW Minnesota tomorrow (high of 77).  I look forward to bringing you an update of hopefully hauling in a nice Northern sometime soon.  That's really why I'm in Minnesota, right, to catch pike, not anything about an education or anything.

Hopefully you can detect the sarcasm in the above statement.  If not, my blog is perhaps not for you.

Until next time, God Bless, and enjoy this picture that holds no real significance.