The Craziest Week Nothing Happened to Me

Aug 8 - texting before Global Leadership Summit

9:24am Ned: Let's get a babysitter and go out to dinner

10:21am Lia: Great! Silo or 6th and vine or willow?

11:15am Lia: Felt a big cyst on my right ovary. Getting ultrasound.

Wait! What?

Lia was at her yearly OB check-up. It was supposed to be a nice, routine visit. The unnecessary kind of visit. When life suddenly turned upside down. The ultrasound looked suspicious. Lia scheduled a meeting with a Gynecological Oncologist for Monday.

Dinner that night was not as light-hearted as originally hoped.

The next three days, which included her birthday, would be awful. Lia explained to me how bad ovarian cancer is. I started freaking out. Earlier that day, my wife was perfectly healthy. Wasn't she? Now, she was dying. But she looks perfectly healthy?

It rained on her birthday. Anna Rose crashed over the handlebars on her bike. We had to eat at home instead of going dancing. Lia, at one point, told me "This is the worst birthday ever." And I'm thinking, what if it's her last? 

I was falling apart and beating myself up because I was. I would like to think that when Lia needs me the most, I would be able to be that strong shoulder for her to lean on. It didn't happen that way. Needless to say, it was not my finest hour. Way to step up, Ned. Mmmm Boy. Have mercy.

Well, we got it. Monday, a nearly two hour oncologist appointment brought us hopeful news. Dr. Skinner didn't think it was cancer though she thought the cyst was not in the ovary but in a more sketchy location. Mmm Boy, Have Mercy.

She scheduled the surgery for Wednesday. Tuesday we took a deep breath. Lia's mom drove down from Columbus. She was a lifesaver. Lia went into surgery Wednesday afternoon and about 5:10pm I received the best news possible. The cyst was in the ovary. It was not cancer. And Lia could go home that night.

I met her in recovery. She wasn't winking. Only one eye worked.



Unfortunately, the anesthesia that made Lia loopy also made her nauseous. For the next two hours, I had to watch the poor girl dry heave. Finally, we got her clothes on and carted her to the car. She slept a long time. And woke up hungry. She hadn't eaten food in 61 hours. Holy smokes.

This weekend we went to the mountains. Did some of her favorite things: hiked Bluff Mountain,
visited an art gallery, drove to a vineyard and enjoyed not only a wine tasting but a private tour. We went dancing that night.

The Rise and Shine Band sang her Happy Birthday. It was like making good all the things that went so bad.



And here I am: Nothing happened to me. Still, I feel like I went through the rinse and spin cycle. And now, happy and grateful as I can be, I'm sleeping for the first time in a week. Mercy.

Happy Anniversary! Sweet Leela.

Thank you all for your prayers and support during this crazy week. 

Wheels

This was a big week for the Erickson family. Dave Dave and Anna Rose, with minimal instruction from their parents, mastered the art of balance. Dave Dave was first. He is still a day or two away from figuring out pedals. I'll post a video when it happens. But he is a natural daredevil on the Strider. Here is a video from Monday. Yesterday he was doing stuff I can't do.

Anna Rose has had her ups and downs with the bike. I've been trying to get her on one for a couple years now only to achieve a lot of yelling and tears. However, it took one look at Dave Dave for everything to change. Nothing like a little sibling rivalry. In less than twenty-four hours, she went from not being able to balance a lick to full fledge biking around the block. Sorry, mom, about the no helmet. 

I gave her a tiny push and off she went. I'll never forget it. Nor will I forget what she said: "Oh my goodness, I can bike!" She sure can…

Here is a bonus video of Anna Rose's last swim meet. Can you say future triathlete?

Rodo

For me, the Beyond adventure didn't really begin until this moment -

the Dragon and Unicorn Farm on the way to Egmont

I can't remember who said we should stop. It wasn't me. Or maybe it was. Like I said, I can't remember. But the next thing I know, the van I'm driving is doing a U-turn and we're heading back to the Dragon and Unicorn Farm. We pull in this tiny gravel driveway and immediately start getting the what-the-heck-are-we-thinkings going up and down our spines; but there's nothing we can do about it, the driveway's tiny.

We arrive at a house. There's no farm to speak of. Two tiny cottages that look big enough to host a family of dwarves or hobbits maybe. No mythical creatures anywhere in sight. Not even dragon or unicorn yard art. Not even a garden gnome! The guys are yelling at me to turn around. I'm trying. But I'm in a van and the driveway is...tiny. It takes twelve points to get me sideways when a lady steps out of the house.

"Can I help you?" she may have added "eh" at the end, I can't remember. We were in Canadia.

I roll down the window. "Uh, well, we saw your sign and we've never seen dragons or unicorns before so we thought we'd stop by."

"Oh, we don't do rodos no more."

Rodos? What's a rodo? I decide to pretend I know what she's talking about. "Aw man, no rodos. Well, I guess we'll go then."

And we get the heck out of dodge.

After we took a picture.

Rodos became the running joke of the week. Whenever we saw something we didn't know what it was, we called it a rodo. Or we would do a rodo. Or eat a rodo. Or we would rodo our kayaks to camp. You get the idea.

So anyway, all you dragon, unicorn, Canadia lovers out there - if you know what a rodo is, tell me...on second thought, don't. I kind of like leaving its definition to my imagination.

Way Beyond

I don't know what this says about me but I feel most at home when I'm not at home, when I'm not in anybody's home, when I'm in the woods or on a mountain or on a rock or somewhere above treeline. When I'm lakeside or seaside or riverside or creekside. When there's wind and when there's not wind. When the sun is reflecting off the water or beating down upon my red hair. When there are animals and bugs and birds and fish. When there's nothing but stillness. And when there's a trail behind me and more before me. Or even if there isn't. Even if there is nothing to follow but a cairn or a compass or ones best read of the line. I love nature. I don't miss the comforts of showers and mirrors. Mirrors are not comfortable. Showers...I like showers. But I don't miss them. I brush my teeth and that feels clean enough.

Happy Ned

I took five guys on a Beyond Malibu trip last week. Will Mitchell, Ethan Carros, Owen Baughan, Spencer Powell and Coleman Johnson took a chance on a week with me in the woods and water of the Pacific Northwest.

Ethan

Will and Owen

Coleman creeping on the Baby Seal

Super Spencer

We were scheduled for a seventy mile sea kayak. I was given the option to change it to the 103 mile hard core version. I didn't tell them until the end that I took the option. To me there was no option.  They can look in their comfortable mirrors now and see a hard core man looking back at them now. They'll thank me for it someday.

Setting Out

Men at Jurassic

It was quite the adventure. Seeing Malibu for the first time. Coming within paddle reach of baby seals. Seeing I don't know how many of their relatives. Spawning salmon ramming our boats. Bald Eagles swooping so close you could hear the wind cutting through their wings. Yes, quite the adventure. Chatterbox Falls. The pristine Princess Louisa Inlet. Then sunrise over Two Bear.

Ethan eyeing Mt. Albert

Baby Seal

Two Bear

Then there was the night with bioluminescent water. That's right. Swimming in the Pacific Ocean with the stars above us and the water shooting off luminescent stars every time we moved our body. I almost missed it. Almost went to bed. It was midnight and I had twenty-four hours of travel starting at 4am. But there was bioluminescence in the water! I got out of bed. I swam and sang and screamed like...well like I do when I'm happy and so full it's coming out whether I want it to or not. There was no one in miles to hear me...except the boys. I woke them up. Sleep could wait. I couldn't let them miss this. It was too wonderful. Too over the top. An amazing week of God and nature and here was nature and God at their finest. What a show!

Yes, God showed himself to us. He met me personally there on the Jarvis Inlet. Walking on the stony beach of Two Bear, I couldn't write down his words fast enough. I won't forget them. He etched them on my heart.

On the way back "home"

Thank you John Guppy, Matthias Newell, Lee Grindstaff, and Kevin Smith for putting up with us. We couldn't have asked for better guides. Hope to make it back your way again soon. Until then, remember there is no place better to be than here...with Love.

Always and Everywhere.

Rodo.

ned

Oonie Koonie Cha!

Three years ago, my daughter attended this Winston-Salem tradition. Camp Oonie Koonie ChaOonie Koonie Cha, run by five Music Care teachers from the area, is on the surface what you might imagine it would be: a music camp. Dull. Boring, right?

Well, I was blown away. This was hands down one of the best camps I'd ever seen. The next year, I ran into one of the ladies and told her so. The long and the short of the conversation led to me being invited to audition for her role (she was retiring after 15 years!). Well, low and behold I got the job.

So for two weeks this summer I was not Ned, not Daddy, but Shnivel the Pirate. Wow! I now have an even greater appreciation for all preschool through second grade teachers. I was whupped. But boy oh boy did I have fun.

Thank you Beth, Amy, Amy, Claire, and Sandy for taking a chance on me. As well as Serah, Josh, Kelsey, and my other partners in crime who made this summer so fun for the kids of Winston-Salem and beyond.

Next year's theme is DINOSAURS. Hope to see you all there! Go to Oonie Koonie Cha to see pictures and learn more.

Ruff Weekend

Poor Winnie had a rough time of it this past weekend. On a walk with Casey and Leela, Winnie took off into the Christmas Trees after what Leela figured to be a bunny only to find Winnie rolling her nose in the grass having been sprayed by a skunk!

Pee-ew is right.

We attempted the old wives remedy of tomato juice. I splurged and got organic though really it wasn't splurging because it was the same price, and actually it was a waste of money because it doesn't work and only made Winnie look like she was bleeding out the head.

Plan two was Hydrogen Peroxide, Baking Soda and Dish Soap. We all braced ourselves when I put the ingredients together thinking that Hydrogen Peroxide might have the same reaction to Baking Soda as Baking Soda has to Vinegar. It doesn't.

We learned a lot of things that night. We didn't exactly have the right quantities of ingredients, which was ok with me since I consider recipes as "suggestions" whereas Leela thinks of them as "rules." But since she wanted nothing to do with our skunky dog, I was free to make any concoction I wanted. I went with the liberal strategy and went heavy on the dish soap - it having the strongest scent.

It worked. I'll leave you with the recipe.

1 Bottle Hydrogen Peroxide.
1/2 Cup of Baking Soda.
And a big squeeze of Smelly Soap.



Winnie's swim in the pond the next morning got most of the suds out.

Unfortunately for her, the poor dog's trials were not over.

For the sake of time, I'll omit the part with the nine kids chasing her around, and I'll leave you with the sad climax. As we were packing up, poor Winnie took a whizz on some clover, yelped and took off running. Turns out dogs can get stung on the fanny. Who knew?

Needless to say, Winnie's little heaven on earth felt a little more like the other direction. It brought a whole new meaning to the old saying: "Every dog has its day."

Happy Birthday Anna Rose

You are the star of my blog and the light of my life. I love you. I love you. I will always love you. I will  love you always, my sweet Anna Rose.

It's So Easy to Fall in Love

I get surprised all the time.

Like when Anna Rose and I were taking an evening walk last friday: "Quiet," she said.

I get quiet.

"Can you hear it?"

"Hear what?" I ask.

"Nature," she says, sighing delight. " I love the music of nature."

"Me, too," I say.

"Like, when the rain starts to fall. There's music in the rain."

"Where did you get a thought like that?" I ask.

She shrugs her shoulders like everyone in the world should have thoughts like that.



Or on Monday: Anna Rose and I were walking the empty Yard Cart back from the street, and I was singing the old Buddy Holly tune "It's So Easy to Fall in Love"when Anna Rose turns to me and says: "No, it's not."

"What do you mean?" I ask her.

She talks with her hands. "Well, for you, there were so many girls. And for me, there are SO many guys."



"So it will be hard to find the right one?" I say, trying to finish her thought.

"I mean, how am I possibly going to find my one and only?"

"I see what you mean," I say, seeing what she means. I put my arms around her. "You know, I fell in love with you the first minute I saw you."

"Daddy," she said, smiling, "I know that for a fact."

#Splashtag

Our yearlong quest to capture the perfect Christmas card photo took a wet turn last week. 

When I first learned about Twitter and the whole hashtag phenomenon, I could have sworn I heard it called splashtag. Am I the only one? Once corrected I decided to continue splashtagging anyway. I think of the phrase as my personal Twitter signature. If you shoot something splashtag worthy, make sure you splashtag it for me. I'd love to see what you come up with. 

Speaking of splashtag worthy - Here are some of the many out takes. Thanks to Cara for shooting these stellar pics.

The Best Father's Day Gift

I don't like braggy posts. I do my best not to write them. I've blurred the line in the past, I know. And I'm about to blur it again. The difference to me is the answer to who and what you are celebrating. And the line gets blurring when it comes to our children, our families, and our lives.

I guess in the end the question that first must be asked is to whom are you writing? And again, the fine line is elusive. Especially on the web. To me, in this place, nederickson.blogspot.com is primarily where I can put down memories. It's my digital scrapbook - the things I don't mind sharing with whoever comes to visit - things I don't mind if they get shared over and over again to people I will never meet. I'm OK with that. The things I don't want passed around I put somewhere else. 

This is a memory I don't want to lose. On June 16, 2013, for Father's Day, Anna Rose gave me ten care bags for me to hand out to homeless people. The gift floored me. Once I got over the astonishment of she sees that in me? I was simply awed not only because of the sweet selflessness of the gift, but the thorough thoughtfulness of the giver. Anna Rose knows me. She knows what brings me joy. And she has observed and understood that the best gifts are the ones we give to others. And Lia, whom she told, understands me, too. She went along with it and gave Anna Rose the means to bring her idea to life. Wow! What a gift.  

This is the letter that accompanied my gift: "

Dear Ned, 

Happy Father's Day! I think one

of the greatest examples of what

a great dad you are is Anna Rose's

gift for you this year. She decided

to make bags for you to give to 

homeless people because she said,

"I know Daddy loves poor people."

When she thinks of you, she thinks

of Jesus because she sees Him in

you! Thank you for sharing His

love and grace with all of us. 

We love you!

Love, 

Lia

One Tough Mudder

Lia, Page Pisapia, Katie Grubbs, and Mary Mendenhall got down and dirty last week for the Marine Corp Mud Run up near Pilot Mountain. 

It was so hot my ears were sweating - but these girls had good attitudes in spades. 

I have to pat myself on my back here for the steadiness of this camera work. This was the half way point. From there they climbed a couple walls, slipped up a mud hill by ropes, and crawled through drainage pipes - which all led to the final obstacle - The Lake of Mud.

Great jobs gals! Maybe we can get the guys to do it next year. Or even better - the kids!

Miracle in May

Anna Rose and I had gone out for a little Daddy Daughter date. It was after her bedtime when we returned; David was already asleep, so we snuck into the house via the back porch. We were climbing the stairs when something caught our eye. It was a bird. A small house finch trapped between the stairs and the wall.



Anna Rose asked me to rescue it, which I not-so gracefully did. Except for a chicken, I hadn't held a bird in my life. Holding this one, I saw right away what had happened. She had flown into the window and had broken or dislocated her wing. It was crooked. The poor thing couldn't even walk.

The question was: what to do? Or the question I was thinking which was: how do I put this poor bird out of its misery without my daughter crying? Anna Rose and I went inside. Told Lia the situation. She told me to get a cardboard box.

I did. Anna Rose filled up a dish of water. Gave the bird a handful of birdseed.

To my surprise, the bird was alive the next morning. Anna Rose and I dug up some worms. The bird lived through the day. She started hopping around the next.

Day 7, she tried her wing out. She could lift off the ground about two inches before falling. Anna Rose thought she'd give her a chance outside. She hopped to a holly bush and climbed to the top and hid awhile. Then tried to fly but fell in our neighbors backyard.



This brought tears. Our neighbor has a dog. I was pretty sure the bird, Anna Rose had named her Sala at this point, was a goner. We went over and fortunately Joey had not found her yet. Somehow we did. She was hiding in some pachysandra.

Sala went back in the box. I ran into our vet at church the next day. I told him about the bird. He was astonished that Anna Rose had been able to keep a wild bird alive that long, especially an injured one. He told us to bring her to his office for x-rays. We did the next day.

Sala's wing had no signs it had been broken. It was still crooked but the joint had slipped back in place. There was a chance Sala was going to make it! The fact she was alive at all was miraculous enough to give us hope.



Sala continued to improve. Two days later, Anna Rose asked if she could bring Sala to visit her friends at school. I told her to pray about it. She said, "I asked God twenty-two times and he said 'Yes' each time." So I came home from work a little early to get the bird.

Sala was gone! She had flown out of her cardboard box. Ten minutes of searching followed. Finally, I found her underneath a wicker chair. I collected her, brought her to school, and told Anna Rose and her friends about Sala's dramatic escape.

I told Anna Rose in the car that Sala was ready to go free. I asked Anna Rose if she was ready. She said, "Yes." So we did.


I don't know if I have ever been so proud of Anna Rose. I don't think she has any idea how amazing it is to nurse a wild animal back to health.

Almost every day, Sala visits our bird feeder. Because of her crooked wing it's easy to pick her out...I still find it hard to believe she can fly.