Metronomes, Medtronic and Medical Miracles

Many years ago a lovely old friend said to me, “Never say no when someone extends an invitation or chance to do something.  Unless you’ve a real reason for not being able to take up the invite, doesn’t matter what it’s for, just go – ‘cause unless you do you will never know what you may have missed.”  

Thank you for those words Fred, for this past period they have rung so true with me.  Life over the years has been a roller coaster, yet I continue to accept those chances you told me to – and the past few months I’ve been given opportunities that have had me on a wonderful, happy merry-go-round of experiences, adventure, fulfilment and gratification.  

None more so than in the past week. 

I am now in Chicago and reflecting on this time last week, a day when my ‘running mate’ and I flew into Minnesota airport and were met, greeted and driven to a hotel in central St Paul’s to begin what was to be an incredible four days of surreality.

I was one of twenty individuals who were accepted by the medical organisation Medtronic to compete in the Medtronic Twin Cities marathon or ten-mile road race. 

Over 460 people had applied to be one of the twenty; I have yet to fathom how on earth they could have sifted through those 460 applications and come up with my being one of the thankful individuals eventually chosen. 

It was in late June when I received notification of being one of the ‘Global Champions’ team.

Part of the acceptance onto this amazing team was the condition that Medtronic requested each accepted recipient would be flown to Minnesota-St Paul, accommodated and looked after, but had to compete in one of the two events with a nominated running partner.  Therefore, each of the Global Champions were in the envious position of asking a fellow runner to partner them on the journey.  How lucky were those other twenty individuals!  Forty of us … being hosted by a most incredible medical company.

The 40 incredible & truly special individuals

 

As most of you know, I have had a strong and close association with many medical companies in my lifetime.  Not only due to the many years of my having an annoying heart problem but more specifically with having to deal with medical experts through the five-plus years my husband was treated for his brain tumour.  

Throughout those five-plus years the gratitude I extended to their ability to keep him alive was directed solely to their individual skills, rather than to the medical resources and products they had at their finger tips to extend his life expectancy from 12 weeks to 5 or more years.

Much was the same respect when I was finally fitted with a pacemaker.  A small piece of modern technology, the size of a small stop watch, that was fitted into my chest two years ago, to make my heart work like a metronome – for the first time in my life it tick-tocked my heart beat at a regular tick-tock rate.  For the first time in years I no longer live with the thought that at anytime I could travel the pathway to the heavens due to a heart attack, or a stroke caused by a badly functioning heart.

It was not until my pacemaker was fitted that I realised just how remarkable modern medical technology has developed.  Each time I have had to visit the cardiac ward at the hospital to have the pacemaker checked and tuned I have gone in with excitement in seeing and learning and understanding how this small piece of equipment was making my life so much easier.  I never want to leave the technicians rooms because the fascination of how it functions has me intrigued, wanting to know more on how it worked and almost transfixed by any explanations of its workings.  I get excited when I receive the six month letter of invitation back to the hospital to have its batteries and workings checked.

Then last week, I was flown into Minnesota with my running mate and hosted by one of the largest medical companies in the world to be part of their 2018 Global Champions team.  

I actually won Lotto.

I met with the most incredible athletes.  Nineteen other people, from all over the world.  Nineteen amazing people – from different countries, different ethnicities, different social stratas, different ages, different worlds, different stories.  Different in every way, except we all had one sameness.

We had all had our lives enhanced, bettered and extended by a technological medical device that had been developed by a medical company somewhere in the world.  

No longer the attitude that the big, corporate medical companies are only out to fleece the world to make profits.  Not that I ever had that.  But I had never really thought how much the world owes to medical companies and the developments and technologies those companies are constantly working on to enhance, improve and save lives, particularly over the past two centuries. 

Our group of 20 Global Champions and their running partners were hosted by Medtronic for the full four day marathon period – and during that time we were offered the opportunity to visit the research and development offices of their main head office.

It was during this visit to their technological departments that the full clarity of just how much the efforts of very clever, intelligent and dedicated employees of that company (and other medical companies) contribute to the lives of everyone in this world.

I saw machines worth millions of dollars testing various, minor areas of how only one tiny part of a certain medical device that would be implanted in a human may work.  I saw one multi-million dollar machine that was only the size of a large washing machine, working solely on how the surface of a certain material used on a device would stop the body from adhering tissue to it, thus ensuring the device could be enduring.  I cannot explain in my basic language what so many of the workings we were shown were testing and doing.  

What I can explain is watching and listening to the staff, technicians and scientists who work on developing incomprehensible technological devices and to their dedication, their intense devotion and their enthusiasm for the work they do, simply to help develop yet another device to help some individual’s life somewhere in the world.

Among my fellow Global Champions there were others who had, like me, been implanted with pacemakers – for the same or different heart faults than mine.

Learning, watching and seeing how the company is developing those to be smaller, more effective, less intrusive and less costly pacemakers to those who will require them was fascinating.

There were others in the team who have to use diabetic insulin pumps to allow themselves to live.  Just learning about those devices and how my fellow team members had to live with them was a whole new insight into another person’s daily routine that most of us would never know about.

This company makes, develops and is constantly redeveloping the insulin pumps so that the use and cost to the individuals makes them become more and more accessible. 

Other Global Champions have had neurostimulators implanted.  I had never understood what a ‘neurostimulator’ was.  But I certainly do now – and am humbled, totally humbled by those who have had these amazing devices implanted and have gone on to achieve incredible feats.

One young twenty-year old in the group had been stricken with a disorder I had never heard of before, dystonia (symptoms not unlike cerebral palsy).  He had a Deep Brain Stimulator (DBS) implant.  This gave him a life, a life from being bedridden with twisted arms and legs to a life where he was able to run a ten mile race on Sunday.  His story this past weekend is worth a movie.

Another amazing 59 year old, suffering from Parkinson’s Disease, also had a DBS implanted.  We watched a short video of this incredible lady with the implant turned on, then turned off.  We all watched in awe at the difference the device had made to her life.  She ran an inspiring run on Sunday.

Another individual had a severe form of ulcerative colitis in his healthy teenage years. The results not good – until he had his large intestine completely removed and a J-pouch constructed (you may have to Google it).  Something that could never have been dreamt of years ago.  He lives a normal life now and ran a great run on Sunday.

All these 20 Global Champions have had their lives totally changed by medical devices.  Medical devices that would never have been contemplated, developed and refined had it not been for medical companies around the world. Or, more importantly, the employees, the researchers,  engineers, the developers, the scientists, the technological brains, the unique and passionate individuals that the medical companies employ.

Twenty grateful Medtronic Global Champions, and their running partners, have gone home from an amazing few days in the Twin Cities with an enhance attitude of gratitude, thanks to Medronic and it’s devoted employees.

The 20 Medtronic Global Champions
Friends for 'Life'

 

At the Medtronic luncheon at their HO

                                http://www.medtronic.com/us-en/about/global-champions.html

I don't know how I will ever be able to thank Medtronic and the events team for those few days of magic  ... but I shall forever be trying to figure out how .... 

Yep, yet another "Oh here we go again" story

I'm forever having experiences'.  

It's back to the questions I asked myself recently: "Why is it that some of us are blessed with extraordinary experiences and stories about basic things in life that others never have?"

Just plain ordinary things that get all jumbled up, or go wrong or awry.

Think my recent, and seemingly simple experiences of turning up for my 35 minute flight from Taupo to Auckland  - on 2 occasions in the past weeks - and on both occasions my ending up sitting on a bus - a bus trip to Auckland, a 4 hour bus trip - due to aeroplanes not flying. 

Or my renovations a couple of years ago where everything possible went wrong. From the plastering,  the plumbing, the wiring, the carpentry, the installations, the excavations, the flooring, the windows; you name it, it all went wrong. Even the many tradesmen working on the property kept shaking their heads and exclaiming they had never worked on jobs where so many things had gone wrong.

Even now, at this very moment my phone refuses to connect to WiFi yet Big Son is sitting right next to me and his phone is working on WiFi perfectly.  He's attempted several times to figure out why mine will not connect but has given up based on the fact that its Mum's phone so even though its not a cheap one if it's hers then its bound to be weird.  So he's given up.

So. Why is it that on an almost daily basis ‘things' so frequently happen to me?   At lease on this occasion it involved finally involved someone else – Big Son.

This particular ‘happening' should never have been. After all, this was a well prepared and well planned event that ‘he' (Big Son) had planned and prepped for - ie: it wasn't me who did the work, so therefore it should have been plain sailing, so to speak.

But nooo.

It was some weeks ago when I was staying with Big Son in Auckland we planned that he would join his mother in Waikiki for a week or two: and as well as spending a nice time together there we could also spend 4 days of that period on the island Maui. Neither of us been to the island of Maui before thus it would be a great opportunity to share a lovely sojourn together.  😊

So that day Big Son goes onto his computer and books 2 seats on a local airline to fly us both to Maui and back.  Simple, expensive, but done.  We're all set. Happy family.

Time to be in Honolulu comes, Big Son flies in a few days after me and we have a lovely time.  Then comes our morning to fly to Maui.

This is not like the Taupo to Auckland flights - there is no fog here - the flights keep happening.

The day before our flight we plan well in advance - we figure out how we would get to airport – we will catch the standard and very regular public bus. We even walked to the bus stop to check we knew the exact stop and had got all our planning tickety-boo.

Meanwhile, we organise that the day before our flight to Maui we will bus over to the lovely Phaedra's town to have a lovely day with her - and she will show us her home town, enjoying her sun, sand, biking and cocktails. It was a super day. We caught the public bus, no problems or difficulties ... (well maybe one ... we forgot to get off at the correct stop.  But we  needed the extra long and hot walk anyway.  Not. 😕)  But no problem with the bus and the views along on the ride.  Easy peasy.

We had a great day.  We happily stayed and enjoyed hers and Cory's company during the day and we delighted to stay and enjoy the good company over the evening meal.  But ever conscious of our pending 8.30 a.m. flight to Maui in the morning we made the strong decision to not over imbibe in good wine, good food and great company – we departed at 9 p.m. on our 40 minute return journey to the apartment in Waikiki.

  
Once there we packed our little carry on bags and sat to plan our strategy for the morning.

We would set both our alarms for 5.30.m.  Coffee, tea, shower & leave apartment at 6.20 a.m. to walk to the bus stop & catch the 6.35 a.m. bus to the airport - a simple 50 minute bus ride there - it would get us there over an hour before departure.  Ample time. Ample relaxing journey. No dramas.

Huh.

Slept well. Both our alarms went off on cue. Coffee and tea made and drunk. Showers done & we leave the apartment with ample time up our sleeves.  Feeling quite chuffed.  Get to bus stop with 10 minutes to spare. 
Come 6.35 a.m. – expected bus arrival time - no bus. 6.40, no bus.   6.45 no bus. 6.50 no bus. Now was the time to begin to get flustered.   We toss up. Continue waiting for a non arrival bus?  Or flag a taxi?  It's pre 7 a.m. on Sunday morning ... there were no taxis driving past to flag down.

We turn our expensive mobile data on to check on bus and/or taxi companies.  It tells us all buses are ‘DELAYED'. Great!  Panic.

Then bus arrives.  And a tortuously, seemingly long 50 minute drive to airport.
 
Should get there at 7.50 a.m. for our 8.30 a.m. flight.  Not quite the hour before that we had planned.  Hopefully check in is only 30 minutes prior to departure!  But we are still somewhat sweating over having our unexpected time delay.

Having caught the airport bus before Verna knows to check with the driver which of the 3 stops we need to get off at once we arrive at the airport - which one to get to our airline's departure area.

What airline you flying on? he asks.

We tell him. Terminal 2, he tells us.  Big Son says his printed paperwork says Terminal 3.  It used to be, says bus driver, but they are doing renovations at Terminal 3 so your airline has moved to Terminal 2. 

Oh, ok,  says I.

At 7.50 we get off at Terminal 2.

Funny, I thought, all the airline signs are for the big international airlines.... not the tiny local airline that we are flying on.  We look around for any signs directing us to the local airline.  There are none.

The bus has gone, Big Son is not happy. 

He's not convinced we are at the right terminal.  We go inside, looking for any sign, any information that would tell us if we are at the right terminal.  Time is ticking.  There is no sign, no information booth. We have no idea which way to head. Time is ticking.  Our flight leaves at 8.30.  It's nearly 8.

We see an airport employee. We ask him if he knows where our airline flies from. He looks at us completely blank.  He has no idea.  He says he'll go ask one of the ticketing ladies at the ticketing booth we are standing near. Time is ticking. They have a long & involved conversation - she clearly knows what she is talking about and is constantly nodding and pointing to Terminal 1.

He comes back. Terminal 1 he says.  How long does it take to walk there? says I.

7 minutes,  says he.  We look at our watching, we are panicking.  We begin the really fast walk-come-jog to Terminal 1 – with back packs and carry ons on our backs - and in the really, really hot and still air of the 29 degree sun.

Big Son is spitting tacks about the advice the bus driver gave us and is dragging the chain. I look back - he's stopped and on the phone - I'm not convinced it's Terminal 1, he says ... he's not convinced. ... his paperwork said Terminal 3. He wants to believe his printed paper work.  Despite the bus driver saying Terminal 3 is under going renovations and all airlines have moved, and despite the airport employees confirming that same fact Big Son is not convinced. 

Time is ticking.  We are pouring in sweat,  due to panic and heat.  We do not want to have to pay another $600 plus for another flight.

He telephones the airline – an employee answers – he asks the question – what terminal is your airline flying from today? Now?

Err... I'm not sure, says the telephone line employee.  Big Son gets very grumpy ...telephone employee goes and asks someone else in his office.  Comes back, Terminal 3, he says, definitely Terminal 3.

We really panic.  WHERE IS TERMINAL 3?!

There are no signs anywhere for Terminal 3.

Big Son spits yet more tacks over the "useless bus driver" and the "useless airline workers".

Where is friggin' Terminal 3?!

We spot way in the distance a road sign with an arrow for 'Car Parking Terminal 3'.  We jointly figure, where there is a car park for Terminal 3 there must be a Terminal 3.

We now RUN to the direction the road sign pointed to for Terminal 3.  The footpath runs out – the road to Terminal 3 has no pedestrian or bike access. 

We RUN back into Terminal 2 building in the hope we can find an exit sign with the words or direction to Terminal 3.  There is none.

We are really in a panic.  Minutes have passed, it's only minutes to our flight.
We run past another airline employee, who can see we are in a panic.  Puffing and sweating I ask her how do we get to Terminal 3?

She looks at us with those soulful eyes one has when they're about to tell you your adorable, much loved axalotle has just died.... oooh .... she says, shaking her head ... it's a long way away .... you go a long way down there (pointing to a long way down there) ... you come to an Enterprise sign.... you go round the really long bend by that building... you keep going on till you get to the traffic lights ... then at the traffic lights you turn right (my head is screaming at her by now) .... keep going along there till you get to the Delta and United buildings.... you turn right there.... go in between those buildings ... then keep going and you'll get to Terminal 3 ....

She looks at us with complete pity written all over her face.

We RUN. He ran & she ran. She ran & he ran. Heavy back packs and carry ons swinging from side to side. We ran. We sweat.  We ran.  We sweat.

We ran all the way down there. We got to Enterprise.  We ran along that looooong bend and we kept going.  We got to the traffic lights. We turned right.  We ran aaaallll the way along there. Big Son spotted the Delta & United buildings.....  we ran between them.  We kept running.

Are all those decades of running going to finally pay off? I thinks.

Kept running.Sweat pouring down and dripping onto the ground.  Then suddenly I realised couldn’t hear Big Son’s heavy breathing behind me any more.  I turned. He wasnt behind me.  He was walking up the steps of a really small, non-descript, beige painted, prefabricated building.

I stop and run back. I look up and it says ‘Terminal 3'.   What!?  This is it?  This tiny little shack? 

Yes.

Hot, totally worn out and puffed and panting, soaking wet with sweat and panic perspiration we enter the building.  There are other people standing and waiting.   The plane take is late.  It's working on 'island time'.  We made it! 

Yes, you're ok for your flight, the man says.  ‘Relax'. 

Then we saw the plane. 

It was no 747.  It was no 380.

It was tiny.  With only one engine, only one propeller.  To fly over all that ocean.

Do we REALLY want to go to Maui? I thought ..... 

 

No Birthday Blues

Tis an important week this week.  For this coming Friday is a special day. A day forever etched in my mind.

It’s Tony’s birthday.  

It is really difficult to comprehend that had he not been targeted by a ghastly brain tumour then he would have been turning 80 on Friday. 

I am sure most of my friends and family will look at that number and never comprehend that Tony could ever had hit that figure, even if he was still alive – for he was a Peter Pan of our world.  He, his heart and his soul never aged.

The tumour certainly had him visibly and physically age in his last years, but even then when we were with him he still remained a Peter Pan to us all.

At this very moment I am sitting in an apartment here in Honolulu and on the wall next to me is a photograph of Tony taken only weeks before he departed our living world.  He is sitting in a wheelchair, being pushed by his mate Jerry, with me walking beside them. He was totally stricken by the tumour at this stage, with only weeks to live, but he sits in the chair wearing one of his many Ironman shirts and a cap on his head.  The manner in which he is sitting in that chair and the silly grin on his face shows the fact that whilst the tumour was aggressively destroying his brain and taking his life it still wasn’t able to take his heart and his soul – he was still our Peter Pan.

It is well past 5 years since he left us.

I do so miss that man.  He meant so much to me.  He still does.  That will never change.

And the grief will never go.  

Only three months ago I was privileged to listen to a very special man, a very special friend, give a speech on grief – and the legacy of grief.  After he gave the most moving and enlightening speech I wanted very much to ask him if I could have a written copy of what he had presented.  I had done this on occasion before and he had been most complimented that I thought so much of his words and was always very happy to send me a copy.

However on this occasion I held back asking him for a copy of this particular speech, for his speech was relating to the loss of his 16 year old daughter, in tragic circumstances, some 10 years ago.  Such a tragic loss of a beautiful life of one of his children; I felt it inappropriate this time to ask for a draft of his words.  But I did email him and thanked him for presenting what I considered the best explanation of what grief is to the audience we had that day.

He had known I would find the speech personal, so much so that he came to me prior to his delivery to let me know what he would be speaking about but that he hoped I understood why he was delivering it.  

After he finished his presentation he came and hugged me, for as he said, “We have joined a special club that neither of us wanted to join.” 

His speech was about how he and his wife felt, thought and accepted the grief they had thrown at them. That grief was not a negative emotion. And how the words so many who care for you use, the words “you must move on” are so irrelevant.  

He hit the nail on the head.   

We don’t ‘move on’ from grief.  Grief does not go away, it will always be there, no matter what is happening now or in the future.  For while grief is a strong emotion it is one that can be fulfilling and rewarding, for it is a reminder of what was and how lucky we were.

He hit the nail on the head, grief is to be embraced and not ‘moved on’ and buried behind our living souls.  And we should not feel we have to hold back the tears; tears that we still shed should be looked upon as good tears, special tears, positive tears of reflection, of joy and the happiness that we had.  

My life has taken some interesting paths since Tony passed away in 2013, none more so than the paths over the past two years.  

I sold the family home, the house that Tony and I shared so much joy, happiness and love in: but the house had become a mausoleum to Tony for every room, every wall, every window, every door had Tony’s hand print, Tony's memory on them.  While I still remained in the house it would forever have me living in a structure of grief.  I needed to ‘move on’.  But that’s in the physical, not in the soul, for the soul is more solid than the physical.  Never ask the soul to move on.

The move, the choices I have made in resetting my life has created some amazing chances, opportunities, adventures and luck.   

I am the happiest now than I have been in well over ten years for it was ten and a half years ago that Tony was diagnosed with the malignant tumour.  

Everything I have done since Tony’s move to reside in the heavens I have felt he would have nodded and said ‘good decision darling’.  I don’t make them without wondering what his thoughts would have been.  With each one I know he would have smiled his Peter Pan smile  …  I am sure he is smiling at me now.

So my life is rather different now.  I am me, independent me.  I am grasping every moment of every day, his passing taught me that.  

My life is not only different it is wonderfully chaotic.   

The happiness is deep due to the people in it, people that I feel total privilege to be able to share time with - family, wonderful loyal friends and so many newly treasured ones that I have met since my move to another town.  I have been lucky.  I have been lucky that with grief has come this happiness and final contentment, that I am blessed with Tony always remaining in my life and with others who are giving me the happiness that Tony would always wish me to have.

Happy birthday Tony.

 

RIP:  Andy Bray

Another special man - now sharing speeches with Tony.