Category: Life

disability, Life, SCI awareness, spinal cord disorder, spinal cord injury

These Legs of Mine…

Annie Streit

Annie, what do you get asked the most? 

It’s kind of ironic because that exact question is one of the most popular, but coming in at a close second…

How fast does your chair go?

The question I want to talk about today is…

What does it feel like?

My official diagnosis is that I am an incomplete C5 quadriplegic. An incomplete spinal cord injury means that the ability of the spinal cord to send messages from the brain is not completely lost. This is compared to a complete spinal cord injury, where there is no function at all below the level of injury. Now knowing this, it is important for me to tell you that how my body functions, and what I feel can be completely different from somebody else who has the same level of injury as I do. That is the thing about spinal cord injuries. Each one is so different, and the amount of return after the injury varies for each person.

I know, there is a lot going on in this picture. This is not one of those popular “leg” photos that people always seem to take by a body of water. Well, it is… but for a different reason. I wanted you all to see it because this is my view. There is a beautiful lake, because I am sitting at my favorite spot at the end of our dock which is where I do quite a bit of my writing. I have my favorite sandals and some bright pink toenails. Please do not let those pink toenails or pink shorts fool you though… I love fishing, football, and I do not mind getting my hands dirty. There also layers upon layers of scars. Each scar has its own story, and some of my favorite include softball wins and stolen bases.

Here they are… these legs of mine. They look like they should work, right!?

After 15 years of being in this wheelchair, I can honestly say that every day, at least once a day I still look down at these legs and think to myself, “Man… you really look like you should work…”  This thought goes through my head because, these legs of mine look like they always have. Yeah, they are a little smaller due to some muscle atrophy, but besides that, I often feel like I should be able to hop out of this chair and go for a walk. I am not sure if that thought will ever go away, because spinal cord injuries are just really confusing and hard to understand, and sometimes even harder to grasp… Even after 15 years.

So, I will do my best  to answer the question, “What does it feel like?”

Many times people think that I can not feel anything at all. Others may not realize that I have even lost feeling below my injury. Listen, it is OK. I will be the first to admit that I knew nothing about spinal cord injuries until I actually had one.

With my level of injury, I have complete feeling and sensation from my chest/mid-bicep and up. I have complete movement of my shoulders and biceps. My triceps are stubborn and kick in on a good day. For me, this is a blessing, because I still have the ability to hug, to hold babies, to wave, to pet puppies, and to use a headlock when needed. It is a collection of little things that add up to a whole bunch… especially when they are things I was very close to losing the ability to do in a split second. They are all things that I used to be able to do without thinking twice about it.

Now, all the complicated stuff is the rest of my body below that level.  Internally, I can feel almost everything… every muscle spasm, muscle cramp, nerve pain, and these strange zings that shoot down my legs when someone scares the crap out of me. Weird, right? Externally it is a completely different story. The best way to describe it is, if someone would come up and pinch my leg I would be able to tell you where that person pinched me, but I would not feel the pain of the pinch. Granted, my leg might involuntarily jump and kick that person in the shin, because that is how my body reacts to any pain below my chest, and let’s be real here… that person deserves it! The same goes for my sensation of feeling anything hot or cold on my skin. There has been a number of instances where I have looked down at my arms or hands and I have a burn blister, and I was clueless because I did not feel it at all. So, plates at Mexican restaurants are my nemesis… Those suckers are en fuego!

Here is the crazy thing… my nerves are all connected still.  This means that anytime I attempt to move a body part such as my toe, I feel every signal down to the tip of that toe.  Actually, if I close my eyes and try to move my toe, I would bet you money that it is moving. That goes for any part of my body below my level of injury that is paralyzed. I can try and try until I am blue in the face, which I have done before. So, even though I feel every signal going down, I just can not get those muscles to fire. A spinal cord injury is similar to the broken electrical cord that is pictured below. You can do everything humanly possible to jam that cord back together, but all the internal wires will not connect. You may get lucky and some of those wires will find a pathway, and you may have some return.

My mom simply says that I am “wired” funny, and you know… I really can’t argue with her.

I know explaining what I feel may somewhat answer your questions, but I also am very aware that it does not fully demonstrate my specific experiences. So, I have found something that you can do as a way of somewhat feeling what I feel. I can not remember where I found this or who came up with it, but kudos to whoever you are! Check out the picture below to help, but before you do I am putting a disclaimer that at first glance it will look like I am flipping you off… I am not!

All I need you to do is to make a fist then put your fist down on the table… Palm side down. Next, I want you to put your ring finger out straight, so it is the only finger sticking out and it should be touching the table also. Now, without lifting your hand off the table I want you to try and lift that ring finger up off the table… without moving anything else except that finger. I bet you can feel every signal going down to the tip of the finger, and some of you may even get it to twitch or wiggle a little, but it refuses to do what your brain is telling it to do.

You can grunt. You can cuss. You can hold your breath and squeeze your eyes shut. You can stare at it trying to will it to move. You can turn 100 shades of red on your face. It just will not budge.

That is it. That is what I feel.

Oh, and by the way, to answer that other popular question… 6 mph.  My wheelchair tops out at 6 mph. It does not sound fast, but trust me… 6 mph down the aisles at a grocery store is fast.

Fast and fun.

advocacy, black lives matter, Current events, Death, discrimination, Family, inequality, Life, Loss, Love, racism

I Write…

Annie Streit

When I am hurting, or mad, or confused… I write.

When I have something important to say… I write.

When my heart is broken… I write. 

When I want to help, but I feel helpless… I write. 

I write. It is what I do. 

This time it is different. I have been sitting back and taking it all in, struggling to find the right words. I wanted to understand before I shared my words with the world, but I have realized that I will never fully understand. I have decided that I cannot just sit in the background being fearful that my words will not matter. So, it is time for me to do what I do… I write.

The driving force that has given me the courage to express my feelings, my fears, and my disappointment in my fellow human beings is my brother, Eric… my sister-in-law, Monica, and my nephew, Kobe. They are my family.

I have been blessed with a life in which the color of my skin does not cause others to assume I am lesser than, judge my actions or abilities, or bring a feeling of fear or danger… but I have witnessed it. I have witnessed my brother, who was bi-racial, struggle in a world that did not treat him fairly. From the moment I saw Eric at the adoption agency, I knew he was my brother. I did not see color. I saw a beautiful little human who gave me the title of big sister… a title I did not take lightly. Eric grew up under the same roof as me and our older brother. Eric had the same last name as me and our older brother. Eric was loved and cared for just as my brother and I were, but Eric was treated differently by the outside world simply because of the color of his skin. Many people were blinded by color and they were unwilling and unable to see the Eric I knew, that was tucked away under a hard exterior that he was forced to build for protection and self preservation.

    The Eric I knew, still at the age of 26, loved hugs from our Mom. The Eric I knew had the biggest heart. The Eric I knew was an amazing father. The Eric I knew was a hard worker. The Eric I knew hung his conference metal that he won in track over my hospital bed while I was in the ICU just so I would know he was with me. The Eric I knew loved family. The Eric I knew taught me about life, love, and acceptance. The Eric I knew would have given me the world if I needed him to. The Eric I knew made mistakes, but guess what… So have I! I feel sorry for everyone that did not get to know this Eric. 

I feel really sorry for those who had tunnel vision and all they saw of Eric was that his skin was a different color. You missed out on knowing a loving and strong human being. His life mattered to me, and his death feels like a missing piece of our family puzzle. I cannot help but to feel like I could have been better for him, or stood up for him more while he was here. So, this is why I have decided that I cannot hide back in a corner, behind my white skin, and be afraid of what others may think or feel after reading my words. I strive to do right for Eric… for Monica… for Kobe… for anyone who has to live in fear and go to battle every day because of the color of his or her skin, anyone who is unfairly misjudged, and anyone who has been directly affected by racism. I will NEVER say that I know how it feels, because I do not know. All I can do is stand in solidarity, I can listen, and I can offer my continual support in any possible way that I can.

Kobe, Eric, and Monica

I pray for George Floyd’s family, and all of the families who have gone through and are going through unexplainable losses. 

I pray for our police officers who wear their badges for the right reasons, and who are willing to give their lives for those who they do not know. 

I pray that human beings start seeing each other as human beings no matter skin color, culture, gender, or sexual orientation. 

I pray that my nephew can grow up in a world that gives him a fighting chance. 

I pray that Eric knows that I am so proud of him and that I wish I could have done so much more for him. 

I pray that people realize that nobody is going to fix this for us. It starts with each and every one of us and our responsibility to be there for one another. 

I pray that the peaceful protesters continue to be supported and that they are heard loud and clear.

Our country and our world are a mess right now.

Our country and our world have lost their morals.

I ask that you find what it is that you can do to start making a change.

I cannot fix the world, but I can try… I can write.

advocacy, Current events, disability, Home healthcare, Life, Motivation, SCI awareness, spinal cord disorder, spinal cord injury

HEROES Act…

Annie Streit

I have not had the hiccups for 15 years… Not once! This is the absolute truth, but there is so much more to this blog than my ability to eat spicy food and drink a carbonated anything without a single hiccup.

I know… I get it… Not another write up about COVID-19. I am asking you to give this one a chance, because this one is different. So, if you are still with me… Thank you.

Right now it is common knowledge that the risk factors for catching this virus are much higher for those who are 60 years of age and over, and also for those who or immunosuppressed. Along with these risk factor groups, I want to talk about the population of people with spinal cord injuries/disabilities (SCI/D). If we look just at the United States, the estimated number of people with SCI is approximately 294,000. That is equivalent to about 54 cases per 1 million people (“Spinal Cord Injuries,” 2020).

I am passionate about the SCI/D population, because I am one of those 294,000, and I have a voice to help, to be an advocate, and to raise awareness. COVID-19 is a virus that affects the lungs, which makes it extremely dangerous for those with spinal cord injuries, especially when the level of injury is higher at the cervical level. My level of injury is diagnosed as C5 incomplete. I am not on a ventilator, and I consider myself lucky, but my specific injury has affected my body from my chest and down.

Now, to answer the question of why this makes people with SCI/D more susceptible…

I have been navigating through life in my wheelchair, without hiccupping, for 15 years. I see the lack of having to deal with hiccups as a silver lining, but it also means that I do not have the capability to cough or clear my lungs without assistance due to the partial paralysis of my diaphragm and core muscles. In order to have the full potential to breathe and cough, it takes the combined teamwork of three muscle “groups” in your body… The intercostal muscles (between ribs), the abdominal muscles, and the diaphragm which takes on most of the work. So, this inability to have full respirations or powerful and effective coughs is a major cause of immunosuppression in anyone who has a SCI/D. Some of the other causes of immunosuppression that are common complications that go along with spinal cord injuries are diabetes, urinary tract infections, and open pressure injuries. All of these provide an open invitation for viruses and bacteria to enter the body. As a C5 quadriplegic, I have dealt and still deal with some of these complications, and it by no means is a quick fix. Now I am sharing this information not only to raise awareness, but I will be the first to admit that I knew nothing about SCI/D before my diving accident. I want the level of awareness to change and I am passionate about finding ways to make that change.

 

united spinal logo

 

This brings me to the topic of how you can TAKE ACTION, and help bring change. The United Spinal Association is an amazing organization that is one of the major leaders in fighting to protect the health and safety of disabled veterans, wheelchair users, and anyone with a spinal cord injury or disorder. The support and resources they provide are extremely important during times like now, and there are various ways that you can reach out for support or get your hands on some valuable resources.

United Spinal Cord Resource Center:

(800) 962-9629

www.unitedspinal.org/ask-us/

One very simple way that you can take action is by visiting the online United Spinal Action Center and offer your support for the important provisions of the Health and Economic Recovery Omnibus Emergency Solutions Act (HEROES Act). Even though it is unlikely that this bill will pass through the Senate, it is extremely important that your Representatives and Senators are aware of the provisions that the United Spinal Association supports in future consideration of this legislation that can directly affect those with SCI/D, their families, and their caretakers.

You can visit the action center and truly help make a difference by a few simple clicks of the mouse, sharing this information with others, and offering your support in any way possible…

  1. Drop in at www.unitedspinal.org/action-center/
  2. Scroll down to COVID-19 Action Alerts
  3. Click on “Act Now” under “Support Important Provisions of the HEROES Act.”
  4. Take a few minutes to read through the six provisions that United Spinal supports, fill out your information, and click “Send Message.”
  5. Smile… because you are making a difference.

 

IMG_7295

 

Information that is found in this blog and important information related to COVID-19 and SCI/D can be found at the following locations:

 

United Spinal Association / COVID-19 Advocacy Resources & Guidance  

https://unitedspinal.org/covid-19-advocacy-resources-and-guidance/

 

Christopher & Dana Reeve Foundation / Posts in COVID-19

https://www.christopherreeve.org/blog/tags/covid-19

 

National Spinal Cord Injury Statistical Center / Spinal Cord Injury Facts and Figures at a Glance

https://www.nscisc.uab.edu/Public/Facts%20and%20Figures%202020.pdf

 

Data Source:

National Spinal Cord Injury Statistical Center. (2020). Spinal cord injury facts and figures 

      at a glance. https://www.nscisc.uab.edu/Public/Facts%20and%20Figures%202020.pdf

Autobiography, Coping, disability, Life, Love, Motivation, SCI awareness, spinal cord injury

What I Now Know

Annie Streit

September is Spinal Cord Injury Awareness month and the Christopher & Dana Reeve Foundation has asked us to write a letter to ourselves pre-injury. Not only is it an amazing way to reflect on how far we each have come, but it also is an excellent way to share our stories and to help inspire one another. The theme is What I Now Know, and this is my letter…

Dear Annie,

I’m going to start by being brutally honest. It is not going to be easy, you are going to be scared, you are not going to even understand at first why this even happened to you. The second your feet leave the pavement and you dive into that pool like you have done hundreds of times before, you will not know that this time is different. This time it will completely turn your world upside down. It’s not going to hurt, you are not going to feel a thing, and that will be the scariest part of it all because you are not going to know anything is wrong until you try to stand up out of the water to breathe. Even almost 15 years after this night, you are not going to really understand how it happened because you never hit the bottom, and you will think of it often, and you will replay it in your head. It is a freak accident, Annie, and it is going to happen to you. It is going to affect everyone in your life that loves and cares for you, but please trust me when I say you are going to be ok… you are going to make it.

I will tell you this, and it may take quite a while for you to understand, but this freak accident is going to happen to you because you are strong enough to survive. You have a fight in you that you do not even know is there. You will wake up in a hospital bed with a body that was once yours, but now it is a body that is not going to respond or listen to anything that you want it to do. So, from that moment you open your eyes you are going to have to start all over. You are going to have to work so hard to do things that you once took advantage of and did not even have to think twice about doing.

Your first year in the wheelchair is going to be one of the most difficult and trying times of your life. You are going to feel uncomfortable when people look at you, and you are going to feel discouraged at how some people treat you. That first year will pass and you are going to start feeling more comfortable with who you are as each year goes by. Some people in your life may fade away, not because they don’t love you or they don’t care for you, but because they are not sure how to handle what happened to you. On the other hand, there will be people that stay by your side day in and day out. I want you to wrap your arms around those people, and wrap your arms around your family, because these people are your support system, your number one fans, and the ones that will pick you up when life gets heavy.

I know you had big plans for after college, and you had it all mapped out. I know how hard you worked for your degree. You will quickly learn that the only thing you can truly plan for is the unexpected. You are going to meet people and do things that you never would have if you hadn’t dove in that pool. You are going to become a strong and confident woman, and realize you have talents buried down deep that will find their way to the surface. These are talents that you do not even know you have, and you will do things that begin to help you understand why you were sent down this life’s path. Your life and your experiences are going to help others, and you have to truly believe that.

Before I end this letter, I will give you a few more important pointers….

– You will experience love and heartbreak… Being in a wheelchair does not make you immune to that, and just because you are in a wheelchair does not mean you won’t find love and a partner to take on life with.

– You have to allow yourself to feel vulnerable, or frustrated, or just plain mad, because you are human.

– Don’t give up… whether it is on life, love, or the Chicago Cubs.

– Truly and deeply hang onto the memories of things you love… like playing softball, feeling the sand between your toes, holding onto a warm cup of coffee, or dancing face-to-face with someone you love, because even though one day you may not be able to do all of these things, you will always remember how they made you feel, and nobody or nothing can take that away.

– Do it. Even if it scares you. Do it. Life is short.

– Your spinal cord injury does not define you.

This is your life Annie, and it is the only one you’ve been given. Giving up is not an option. It never has been, and it never will be. Take a deep breathe and put your seatbelt on…. it’s going to be a crazy ride. This life of yours will be a life full of love, support, happiness, and laughter with a few ups and downs.

You are strong… You are beautiful… You have a purpose, and the wheels are just how you get from one adventure to the next.

Keep on pushing forward and you are going to be just fine… I promise.

Love,

The Future You

Coping, disability, Family, growing up, Life, Loss, Love, Motivation

Figure 8

Annie Streit

Now, I know everyone has his or her place they go to get away, to find some peace and quiet, and to have just a little time to be away from everyone and everything. It may be a big cozy chair in the corner of a room where the sun shines in with a good book in your hands, a park bench that is off the beaten path, a little coffee shop on the corner, in your car driving through the country with the top down, riding a bike through those beautiful tree tunnels that make you feel like there is a completely different world waiting for you at the other end, going to the batting cages until you have used every last available quarter you can find in a 20 mile radius, floating on kayak at dusk when the water is like glass, sitting in the sand letting all your senses take in everything that the ocean can give, or laying in a hammock while the breeze rocks you to sleep. These all were my getaways before the wheelchair. My spot now… my momentary timeout from life is rolling down the road in big figure 8 around this beautiful lake that I call home. On a day when I need a little extra time, when things are weighing on my mind, or I want to escape and listen to a few more songs and my charge on the chair is still on green, I buzz right by our driveway and go twice. Everyone around here knows this as my “roll,” and I have met so many people over the years just by waving and saying hello. As long as the sun is shining and the weather permits, it is a daily event for me. I make sure my seatbelt is secure, I hook my mirror up so I do not have any surprises sneaking up behind me, I put my chair up to rabbit speed, the headphones go on, and the music goes up. The sun, the wind, the water, and the music relax me and somehow ignite my creativity all at the same time. It is on my rolls where I come up with the best ideas for writing, and it is also my place where I try to let go of worries, cry over the loss of people I love, smile at random memories that my music brings back to life, vent my frustrations, talk to my little brother whose presence I feel every moment I am by that water, sing my heart out along with the music flowing in my ears, and cope with things that I do not like to speak of. I have had a few people ask me if I get bored of rolling and seeing the same sights every day, and the first time I responded to that I remember exactly what I said….. “It is so pretty here, and I see a different kind of pretty every day.” Every day I roll around the lakes, no matter what kind of day I have had, I can honestly say that I see at least one thing that makes me stop and just look. Today was no different, and it was a day where I had all sorts of thoughts bouncing off of each other while I navigated my figure 8. This is what my roll stirred up…

I once heard the saying, “If you are lucky enough to live on a lake, then you are lucky enough.” As I sit here on the dock and look out at the water as the sun is going down I really do know how lucky I am. For many of you that know me, you know that my permanent home is now on the lake, and a beautiful lake at that. Now, if I had to make this change five or so years ago, I know I would not have appreciated it as much as I do now. I would not have been ready to leave my friends, leave my home and everything that was familiar to me, leave the faster pace of life. Now that I’m in my “northern” 30s my mindset is completely different, and I have realized how much can change over just a few years. I know what has brought this change in me; it is a combination of things…

First is that I fell in love. A strong love. An honest love. I could feel my priorities in life completely shift when love showed up like it did… unexpected but at the perfect time. The lakes allowed me to be closer to that love, and that love washed away any doubts that were lingering about moving away from what was familiar to me. Love is a powerful thing and it made me feel safe. The second is pretty simple… I grew up. I have developed amazing friendships that have an unspoken mutual understanding that being an adult is not for sissies and life sometimes can keep us apart for a significant amount of time, but we truly cherish every moment that we now have together. Yes, I miss them every day, but at this age I have been blessed with such a solid foundation of true friends… friends that are constant no matter what life deals out. Third, I enjoy the slower pace of life here, and every single time I say it I shake my head and smile, because I hear my 70 year old neighbor say the same exact thing. I love the little bar on the corner where “everyone knows your name,” knowing that I can look up at night and see so many stars that are not faded by the lights of a busy city, having friends visit so they can relax, living near a one stop light town that still celebrates its settlement days with a beer tent and live music, cooking dessert over a campfire, and losing track of time with friends out on the water. The last significant piece to all of this is my little brother. He continues to teach me things about life, even after he passed away a little over two years ago. This lake is his final resting place, and the feeling of being close to him makes me feel more at home than anything else. It has brought a new calmness to this beautiful body of water that I wake up to every morning. It is a calm that I did not feel before, but it is real and I know Eric would want that for me… he would want that for all of us.

I have come to realize that it is the people, the love, your frame of mind, it is life, it is loss, and it is the experiences… however large or small that make a house your home, and each spot where we land is like a stepping stone through life. The stone I am on right now is a good one and the view is not too shabby. So, for right now I’m going to keep rolling my figure 8, and waving at people that I have yet to meet, and singing along with my music, and writing about my life… and always trying to find that “different kind of pretty” every single day.

Family, Life, Loss, Love, Motivation

Life Goes On….

Annie Streit

When I was a little girl, I had my life all planned out. I was going to be a monkey trainer, married, two kids, and riding horses in the mountains with the gobs and gobs of free time I would have because my personal cook would have dinner ready every evening, and my responsible children would finish their homework every day without being asked, and they would have a weird obsession of picking up after every mess they made.

It did not work out that way… At all. What can I say? This flashback to my little girl dreams getting crushed, brings me to my next topic…. “Life goes on.”

“Life goes on…..” You know, it was a phrase that I never really liked. Yes, it is the truth, but it seems so insincere, so blunt, and so lacking of any emotion or empathy. Now, at the ripe age of 35, I am sitting here in my wheelchair, at the end of the dock, writing down my thoughts, looking across a gorgeous lake, and watching “life go on.” I have come to accept that phrase.

I am not heartbroken about those dreams I had as a little girl not working out. There have been many points throughout my life where I thought I had it all planned out, but the forces that be shook their heads and thought otherwise. Every single time my plans completely got thrown into the blender in regards to how I thought my life was supposed to be, there was always one thing that was guaranteed… Life goes on.

There are so many things that can turn your world upside down. Whether it is the death of someone you love, a traumatic event, a broken heart… Life does not stop and wait for you to catch your breath. The sun still rises and sets, deadlines do not disappear, bills arrive just on schedule, traffic still piles up at rush hour, and you come in contact with strangers who are completely unaware of the pain you carry inside. At times it does not seem fair that the world keeps going with complete disregard to your own feelings of loss and defeat, but maybe that is what helps us heal. Think about it, if life stopped every single time you faced a detour, it would be kind of like trying to watch a YouTube video with really slow Internet. We all know how annoying that is… Nobody likes “buffering.”

Maybe you just need to coast on that detour, just for a little bit. I have learned to look at the detours of life from the perspective of relating them to real “detours.” Yes, some detours absolutely throw you for a loop, and get you so lost that you have to use every lifeline necessary to find your way. Sometimes though, there are detours that may in fact make it a longer ride to reach that final destination, but if you truly open your eyes, that ride is more beautiful, and it would have been something that you never would have experienced otherwise. It may be a blessing in disguise, it may scare the crap out of you, it may open doors to amazing opportunities, it may shut doors that you never thought would close, you may meet the love of your life, you may lose the love of your life, but it is life, and it is yours, and it is unpredictable.

I by no means claim that I have it all figured out. So, until it is my turn to see the ones I have lost throughout this journey of life again, I will put my seatbelt on every morning and keep rolling with life as it “goes on,” doing my best to embrace the detours and wherever they lead me to, and holding on to the belief that hearts that are meant to be together will always find their way.

Also, monkey training is never out of the picture…

Current events, Entrepreneur, Family, Life, Literacy, Reading

Making A Difference 

Annie Streit

           Ever since high school I have made it a habit to watch the news. I have always wanted to keep up on my current events, but let’s face it.. the news is depressing. It always seems to be focused on the negative of any situation. I believe it is nearly impossible to watch the news without having to hear stories of death, hatred, and war. It is the world that we live in, and there is no denying that. Every once in a while though, there is a bright spot in the news that gives us all hope that there is still good in this world. Those are the stories I love to watch, those are the stories I love to share, and those are the stories that make us reflect on ourselves and hopefully make us strive to do better and be better. I saw one of those stories the other day when I turned on the nightly news, which I do every day after work. I would like to share that story with you in hopes of brightening your day.

         Monday evening, I was watching the NBC nightly news and doing my usual routine of decompressing after work. I am a fan of the nightly news on NBC because they always end their news program with an uplifting story. That night was no different, and I found myself smiling as I was watching a story about an 11-year-old entrepreneur named Sydney Keys III. It caught my interest right away, because I remember thinking…. “I don’t think I could even spell entrepreneur when I was 11 years old!” Sydney has a love for reading, but unfortunately he realized that boys in his age group, especially African-American boys statistically stop reading. In order to fight this stereotype, Sydney created a club called Books n Bros in order to make reading more fun for boys around the ages of 8-12-years-old. “Books n Bros is not only encouraging literacy within the Black Culture and African-American literature, but also Entrepreneurship, Financial Literacy, and Endless Possibilities!”


        

        Sydney has been featured on numerous news programs and outlets. On his website you can browse through featured collections of books that all have strong African American characters and stories of African American leaders and history. So, take a break from all of the negative news, and visit Books n Bros to see how Sydney is making a difference by simply doing something that he loves. I have always held strong to the belief that we can learn so much from kids, and this is a prime example of that. Here is a shoutout to Sydney for seeing that changes needed to be made, and for taking the initiative to be that change!  

You can follow and learn more about Books n Bros at www.booksnbros.com or on Instagram at http://instagram.com/booksnbrosllc.

Autobiography, disability, Life, Motivation, spinal cord injury

Just a Glance…

Annie Streit

As many of you know, I am a children’s book author, but I have always wanted to write a book about my story. I have worked on this on and off for about four or five years now, and it is nowhere near completion. It is a project that I work on when the writer’s block fog dissipates and ideas come rolling in. It may take four or five more years to complete it, but I enjoy putting my story down on a piece of paper. It challenges me to find a way to truly describe all the emotions, experiences, and challenges since I dove into that pool almost 12 years ago.

Below is an excerpt from the beginning of my book. My whole goal for this section is to help the reader, whether they know me or they are a complete stranger, picture those hours before my accident. I can play the events of that day over and over in my mind with such vivid images, and I want the reader to also be able to be there with me. So, I would love for you to take a few minutes to read through these few paragraphs. Your input, comments, and ideas are what can help me make my story so much better.  Sharing my story is very therapeutic, but in the end I am writing this for you.


CHAPTER 1 – GO BACK WITH ME

It’s still so hard to go back, but I go there often. I have learned that it is impossible to erase the memory of a split second in my past that had the power to change my entire future. The thoughts, the feelings, the “whys,” and the “what ifs” are a constant battle. It is a battle, that at times is numbingly overwhelming, but it is also a battle that I passionately feel I can beat. I want to share my story about the past 12 years of my life… not for sympathy, but for the simple fact that I know there are others that sit where I sit. This is the one life that was given to me, so I am going to fight for it. So, go back with me to that day where I had to learn how to live all over again.

May 7, 2005

Let me introduce myself. I am not famous and I am not a hero. I am a twenty something young woman who is just hours away from graduating college with a fresh Interior Design degree and a new job at a design firm with a promising future. I am to start my new career in two days as a Project Designer. After five years of pop quizzes, pulling all nighters, cramming for tests, and presentations, I am excited to start this new phase of my life that I have worked so hard to reach. No more homework and finals. I am going to finally have the opportunity to put my talents and abilities to use for others.

It is hot day today, even in the morning, as I am driving in my convertible to meet my friend Darcy I can feel the stickiness of the Indiana summer heat. The top is down, but even the breeze rushing over the windshield can not cool the black leather seats from the blistering sun. As I arrive at her house near campus and walk inside carrying my cap and gown, everyone is running around franticly trying to adjust their graduation caps just right, fix their make-up, and figure out who is riding with whom. I feel a little under dressed as I look down at my favorite flip flops I decided to wear. Then I notice the bright red nail polish on my toes, and as I am wiggling my toes and admiring their shine, Darcy wraps her arm around my neck for a quick picture before we head out the door. We all stuff ourselves into a couple cars and head to the North Quad on campus, where the ceremonies will begin in less then two hours.

As we walk to our designated spots near the Quad in the center of campus, there is a sea of black caps and gowns with a splash of red tassels. Darcy and I hug, then I make my way over to my group of Interior Design friends that I have worked side by side with for the past four years. We snap pictures and talk about if we have found a job, have a job, or even want a job. It feels so rewarding to talk about my new position I was hired into after a semester of rush hour commuting, hard work, and dedication as a design intern. My new job as a Project Designer will entail me to work with clients who trust me to take what they are picturing in their head, lay it out in a series of sketches, plans, and presentation boards, and finally make it real after hours upon hours of meetings, deadlines, phone calls, and presentations. It is going to be stressful at times and long hours, but I love it and I am good at it. I am so eager to begin this new phase of my life. In the midst of all the excitement and chatter, the time finally arrives where we are asked to line up in preparation to walk to our seats. The feeling of the sun beating down on my black gown is already making my skin tingle, but there could not be a more beautiful day for an outdoor graduation ceremony.

After the commencement speeches and the acknowledgement of the graduates, we split up again to head to our different locations on campus to receive our diplomas. Before we sit down for this final ceremony, I scan the growing crowd trying to spot my family and best friend, Stacy. It means so much to have them here, and it makes everything sink in and feel so real. In about an hour, I am going to turn from a “college student” to an “adult.” I cannot tell if that thought is causing the instant rise in temperature in my body, or if it is my gown and the stiff hot air.

The final ceremony is a blur in my mind. I remember hearing my name and walking across the stage to receive my diploma, then flashing a smile at my family as I make my way back to my seat. As the other graduates take their turn and the speeches are being made, I cannot help but unzip my gown to release some heat. The rush of cool air feels so refreshing on my skin, and my idea must have caught on because the spuratic sound of zippers can be heard through the rest of the ceremony. As everything comes to a close, I am more than ready to celebrate with my family and friends. I am a college graduate, and I have a little under two days to let this sink in before I start my life working in the real world.

Mom and Dad join me at my favorite restaurant on campus for lunch before I head back to my apartment to get ready to meet up with friends. The restaurant is packed with beaming college graduates and family members. It is a typical college pub with glowing neon signs, and beer taps as far as you can see. I have frequented here quite often through my college years. I had grown fond of the college atmosphere, and deep down I know I am going to miss the spontaneous dinner dates with friends, the late nights out, the weekends starting on Thursday afternoon, and the hot dog man at three in the morning. Little do I know there is a surprise party back at my apartment that Stacy has put together. I finish eating with my mom and dad, and make my way back to meet Stacy. I am flying high and so happy, but clueless to the apartment full of friends. As I open the door, I am welcomed by hugs and congratulations, and I am so excited Stacy did this for me. She is a true best friend that I will forever be thankful for. I am ready to have a great time with my friends and celebrate my survival of college.

Throughout the evening friends are coming and going. My apartment has a pool, so of course the idea of going for a swim comes up later in the evening with a small group of friends. I make up my mind to join them, so we all walk down to the pool. The pool is shallow and I am well aware of it, and even tell others it is. I stand at the edge and dip my toes in, while talking with my friends. The water feels cool compared to the air, but I was always one to jump in and not torture myself with the slow agonizing walk into the water where goosebumps slowly travel up your body. This time is no different than any other except for the end result. My feet lightly push from the cement and I do a shallow dive, where my body barely skims under the water. The split second the water rushes over my head, something feels different…

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My Senior year at Ball State University.. Just a few months before my accident.

disability, Home health agency, Home health care, Life

Home Health Care Epidemic

Annie Streit

For the past 12 years I have relied on the help of home health nurses, and home health aides to start my day. The mornings of simply rolling out of bed, and throwing on some comfy clothes have gone by the wayside. My mornings now begin with a specific routine that takes up to the span of three hours. My nurse comes every morning and assists me with getting up, showering, stretching, getting dressed, and getting situated in my wheelchair for the day. I have been with various home health agencies, and I have had many nurses over the time that I have been in my chair. I have a current nurse that has been with me for close to four years, and we have our routine. We have spent many hours together, and she has become a very important part of my life, and I know I am one of the lucky few that has been blessed with nurses that truly care for me.

I feel that I am in a position that allows me to be the voice for those in my similar situation that do not have the same support system as I do. I am currently with my fourth home health agency, and I am completely aware of the decline of home health care in Indiana. It is by no means the fault of the clients that require care at home, I truly believe the fault lies within the home healthcare agencies themselves. I was with an agency for 10 years, and I was released because the agency stated that they did not have enough nurses to cover my hours. Since I was released from that company almost a year ago, I have contacted a nearly 14 page list of home health care nursing agencies, and I received the same answer almost every time…. “We currently do not have enough nurses to take on any more clients at this time.” I fortunately have a nurse that has stuck by my side and she has hired on to every company that I have been forced to skip around to.

Recently, there was an article written by Suzette Hackney in the Indianapolis Star about a woman by the name of Karen Vaughn that hit very close to home with me, and I am sure with many other people in similar situations. Karen is a quadriplegic and a disabilities advocate. She relies fully on constant skilled nursing (20.5 hours every day) because she has no movement below her neck, and she breathes with the aide of a ventilator at night. Vaughn was hospitalized for pneumonia, but when it was time for her to return to her apartment she could not because the home health agency that had been providing her around the clock care would not take her back on because they did have enough staff or nurses. As a result, Vaughn had to stay at IU Health Methodist Hospital. The cost per day was $2,200. After her 11 month stay at the hospital, she had no choice but to go to a nursing home. Not only has Vaughn’s mental state been negatively affected by the stress of being in a nursing home, the level of care that she receives has diminished compared to the care she received at her own home. For Karen, there are so many things at stake along with her health and mental state. She is at risk of losing her apartment, she is at risk of losing the small amount of independence that she still has… she is at risk of losing so many things that others take for granted.

Vaughn is just one of the many who are in this unfortunate situation. It is a problem that is becoming all to familiar, but it somehow continues to be overlooked. This is also a problem that is not going to go away anytime soon. Along with the many people who have disabilities that require home health care, we are a country full of baby boomers and wounded veterans that will need care. The demand is rising, and it is rising at a rapid rate. The number of people that require home health care just in the state of Indiana has gone up 60% over the past three years. There are nurses out there, and I know this because I have been dealing with home health agencies for almost 12 years now. I also know, that a majority of home health nurses are being overworked and not compensated for it. Maybe one of the first steps begins with these agencies taking care of their nurses with better pay, better benefits, better organization, better incentives. At times, acknowledgement and a sincere “thank you” to a nurse that has given up his or her personal time with his or her family to pick up a shift or help a client can mean so much. Although, I know there is no amount of “thank you’s” that I can extend to my nurses that even comes close to showing the level of appreciation for the sacrifices and care they have given me.

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Something has to change, and creating awareness can be the beginning of that change.

I am a hard-working and determined 34-year-old woman just trying to live life like everyone else. I will not pass up any opportunity to be an advocate for those with disabilities, or to be an advocate for anything I wholeheartedly support. Everyone has a purpose… and I truly believe this is mine.

Indianapolis Star, Hackney: Disabled Advocate Loses Fight (Full Article)
Indiana Home Healthcare Agencies  (Website)
Top 30 Cities for Home Health and Personal Care Aides (Website)
1 Milwaukee, WI 
2 Waterbury, CT
3 Peabody, MA
4 Duluth, MN-WI
5 Rochester, MN 
6 Minneapolis-St.Paul, MN
7 New Bedford, MA
8 St. Cloud. MN
9 Tacoma, WA
10 Fargo, ND-MN
11 Columbus, OH
12 Poughkeepsie-Newburgh, NY
13 Albany-Schenectady-Troy, NY
14 Ithaca, NY
15 Worcester, MA-CT
16 Rochester, NY
17 Grand Forks, ND-MN
18 Mankato-North Mankato, MN
19 Barnstable Town, MA
20 Monroe, MI
21 Pittsfield, MA
22 Racine, WI
23 Tucson, AZ
24 Nassau-Suffolk, NY
25 Kalamazoo-Portage, MI
26 Boston, MA
27 Providence-Fall River, RI-MA
28 New Haven, CT
29 Lancaster, PA
30 Chicago, IL 
disability, Life, Motivation

First blog post… My Top 5

Annie Streit

 

I have spoken to many groups ranging from kindergartners to adults about my journey over the past 12 years of being in this wheelchair. Sharing my story and my experiences is something I truly love to do. Over the years of talking to so many different groups, I have learned that no matter what the age is that I’m speaking to, I get asked some of the same questions. One of those questions that I love to answer is, “Annie, if you regained all your movement and strength, what would you want to do first?” It is so hard for me to just pick one thing, so I will break it down into my top five.

1. SOFTBALL! I would grab my batting gloves and my favorite bat, and I would go to the batting cage and hit softballs until I couldn’t lift my arms anymore. I love softball! I played four years of varsity softball in high school, and after high school I played as much as I could fit into my schedule. The sound of hitting that softball just right… in that “sweet” spot… It is a sound that I will never forget, and it is a feeling I miss so much!
2. DANCE! I am by no means a good dancer. Actually, I’m awful at it… but I do remember how great it feels to just lose yourself on the dance floor. Now don’t get me wrong, I still can do a pretty wicked shoulder shimmy, but it just does not compare to dancing the night away.
3. COOK! I’m Italian, so cooking is an inherited trait that has been passed down through my family. Cooking was something I used to do all the time before my accident, and it was also something that I never thought I would miss. Whether it is cooking for myself, or surprising the one I love with a big plate of homemade spaghetti… I miss it!
4. RUN! Yes, you read that correctly…. I said, “RUN!” Back in the day I was never a distance runner, but if there is one important lesson I have learned with being confined to a wheelchair, it is…. “Where there is a will, there is away.” So, you can bet that I would work at it… and I would run… and run… and run.
5. PLAY CATCH! It could be a football, a softball, a frisbee… I’m not picky. I love the feeling of throwing the perfect spiral with a football, the “smack” of a softball being caught in a leather glove, or seeing a frisbee glide through the air. It is so simple, but so satisfying.

So, that is my list. As I was writing it, I realized that every single one was something I took for granted. I never thought that the last time I did each of them that it would actually be my last time. I do not think many people look at the “simple” things in life that way. That is one of the most important reasons why I love sharing my story… I want to help you to embrace the little things. I am a true example of the saying, “You will not miss it until it is gone.” So, never forget what is important… never forget that life throws curveballs… never forget how very precious life is… and never forget that you get this one chance at life. So, hit the ball, shake your booty, embrace your inner chef, run the marathon, and celebrate that perfect spiral.

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That’s me… Center Field my Senior year of high school… doing what I love…