Time to start a new chapter and seize the day!

Every Fall for 7 years, Ev and I packed our clothes, 50 pounds of goalie equipment, along with 1 angry orange cat, and moved. We moved to England. We moved to Texas. We moved to Scotland. We moved to Florida. We moved to Mississippi. Moving was our thing. It was an adventure.  Looking back, we were pretty brave - or blissfully unaware. It wasn't a conventional life. Evan's career as a hockey player was extremely stressful and unpredictable. It was harsh. It was exciting. In one year, Evan was fired mid-season due to the team's slipping performance ("Someone had to go!"), in the next, he was MVP and an All-star goalie.  Life was never still - never predictable. Towards the end of Evan's career, we both longed for some consistency. We watched our friends get married, secure "adult" careers, buy houses, and have children. We wondered if we were missing out on something, yet we were reluctant to throw in the towel on this adventurous lifestyle. I couldn't make the decision. After enduring 2 trades in Evan's last (painful) hockey season, Evan was the one who applied to the Calgary Fire Department and moved us to Calgary to "settle down."

7 years later,  and a move to my hometown of Prince Albert, Saskatchewan, Evan and I live a very consistent, predictable, happy life. Although the last 2 years have been a wild ride due to my knee surgeries; overall, we are very comfortable and content. We have wonderful friends, we both enjoy our jobs (Evan truly loves his gym and the people he works with) and, other than the harsh Saskatchewan winters (this was THE WORST WINTER EVER!), we have "settled" quite nicely. To be honest though, I frequently find myself fantasizing about Evan walking in the door and announcing, "we've been traded!" The thought stirs up excitement and creates butterflies in my stomach. Evan has admitted that he feels the same way. If this thought is so appealing to us, then why are we sitting around and talking about it? It's time to act.

So, in classic Evan and Kirstie style, it's time to shake things up a bit and embark on a new adventure.

I've been "traded" to a tropical island. Well, not exactly, but I did secure a job as a Speech-Language Pathologist in the Cayman Islands. Google map it. It's a tiny tiny island (population: 60,000) south of Cuba (1 hour flight from Miami) in the middle of the Caribbean. We've never been there, but it looks like a pretty great place to go.

Can you spot it? 

The Coles notes version: I saw the job posting, I applied, I  interviewed via skype (the dog and cat started mauling each other loudly in the background during my very formal interview - the horror!), I possessed the "international experience" they were looking for, and was offered the job.

For 3 weeks, Evan and I painfully went back and forth on a decision. I met with Dr. M, presented a pro/con list and with a fine toothed comb, he read and dismantled every con on my list, "What if I re-injure my knee??? Um...what if you DON'T re-injure your knee? Take it off the con list. Besides, heat and salt water can only be good for that knee!"

One night, 2 days before the deadline to respond to the Cayman Island job, Ev and I laid in bed, turned to each other and said, "We have to do this."

Decision made.

We will be moving August 10. Evan will continue to own his gym, Saskpro - his pride and joy. Over the last year, he has been able to step back and run the gym "behind the scenes," simply because he has amazing people working for and with him. He will fly back once a month to ensure things are running smoothly at the gym, but he can definitely spend the 6 or so hours he currently spends on the computer in a different location...preferably a white sandy beach.

I am unbelievably excited. I am curious. I am uncomfortable. I am a little bit scared - Ok, a lot scared at times. But, overall, I feel that this was an opportunity that we couldn't refuse. The timing, given that my confidence is returning and my health is improving, and the fact that Ev and I have longingly watched every episode of House Hunters International, is ideal. We are well aware that this is not the conventional next step in the lives of 30-somethings - but you know what? - that's what makes it just a little more bold and exciting.

My job consists of a  two year contract with the Cayman Government, with an option to renew every 2 years. We'll see how it goes. I have no idea what the future holds. I do know that I receive 5 weeks paid holidays, so summer vacay at our "happy place" at Candle Lake is still a possibility for us.

The house is for sale, 2 vehicles are for sale - I'm taking offers on boots, shovels, and winter coats (haha). Biloxi, the cat, and Dundee, the dog, are coming along for the ride. Poor Bilox has now lived in 7 states, the United Kingdom, Alberta, and Saskatchewan. If he could speak English, I'm almost certain he would say, "For F sakes, people, Stay in 1 Place!!!" Poor cat. Dundee, on the other hand, is pleasantly confused at all times. He will be fine.

 Reading back through my first blog, "Seize the day," I feel nostalgic. Seize the day, a tribute to our friend Ryan, definitely inspired me to take some risks - to try new things, and never pass up an opportunity. I really learned a lot about myself during that year. I still think about Ryan, especially now that we're "seizing the day" with this move to a tropical island sight unseen. He would be stoked. He would definitely support our decision, and I'm almost positive that he would have been one of our first guests.

 "I found this Humerus," on the other hand, has been a very different blog. Faced with adversity, it was a place to share my fears, feelings and struggles - the light, airy, fun Kirstie you met in Seize the Day was replaced by a more thoughtful, serious, tense Kirstie. Although it has been the most challenging few years of my life, I'm happy that I documented it - it was honest - through the good, bad, and the ugly....lots of ugly. I feel light, airy, happy, fun Kirstie slowly returning - this time with more conviction, clarity,  and zest for life.

So given that I'm about to start a new chapter in the Cayman Islands, I think a new blog is in order. Time to put this story to rest and start a new book! Time to chronicle our life on a tiny tropical island. I can't wait to see which direction the new blog will take. I have no idea....which is incredibly liberating. I'm ready to buckle up and enjoy the ride. Stay tuned!

Then: 2004

Now: 2014

Future? eeeekssss! Must wear sunscreen.

Happy Anniversary to my cartilage!

"Hey Dr. M, what are you doing?"

"I'm forming the walls. The cartilage will sit in the hole, touching all surrounding walls."

"Are you making nice vertical walls?"

"Yes, Kirstie. Nice vertical walls."

I recall that conversation in the operating room one year ago like it was yesterday. Although slightly stoned on Versed, I was very much aware and actively participating in my cartilage transplant surgery. Having watched the surgery on youtube multiple times prior, I considered myself practically an orthopedic surgeon and insisted on talking Dr. M through the entire procedure. I'm sure he was thrilled. 

I can't believe it's been a year. 

I remember mildly enjoying my surgery, cracking jokes as Dr. M placed the cartilage implant in my medial formal condyle, as I teased,"No one's ever touched me there before, Dr. M!" and I remember the fear when the anesthetic began to wear off. 

I remember feeling the worst pain I've ever felt in my life hours after my surgery, "It's a 10! I know patients lie all the time, but I'm telling you, it's a 10!" and I remember the security I felt when Evan and my mom held me tight and comforted me that I would be OK. 

I remember coming to the realization that I was physically addicted to painkillers and I remember Dr. M assuring me that I was strong enough to stop. 

I remember the agony of withdrawal as I weaned myself off of those painkillers and I remember the pride I felt when I didn't need them anymore. 

I remember thinking that the world would be a better place without me and I remember realizing that the world wouldn't be the same if I wasn't in it.

I remember the frustration of trying to steer my damn wheelchair and I remember showing off my fabulous crutching skills.

I remember taking my first shaky steps in Dr. M's office, like a baby deer learning to walk for the first time, and I remember wondering if this was as good as it would get.

I remember doubting that the surgery was successful and I remember praying to God that it was. 

I remember trying to take things day-by-day and I remember secretly forecasting and wondering what my status would be in a year's time.

I remember crawling, hopping, limping, walking.

I remember surfing!

I remember the fear, the pain, the doubt. I remember the pride, the excitement, the hope. 

What a year it's been. Happy first anniversary to my cartilage transplant. We are the perfect match, and although we have our struggles, I am confident that we will share a lifetime of happiness together :)

Cheers to my family and friends who have supported me. Cheers to Dr. M for persevering in the search for a solution. Cheers to everyone who makes the choice to donate their organs/tissues. I feel incredibly grateful to have received such a life-changing gift of both the cartilage and the experience, which will forever impact the way that I live my life. 

Rockstars get hangovers too

Last we spoke, I admitted that I had just turned 35! 35! That just sounds unreal to me. I made an executive decision to party hard this year, given that I missed out on 2 years of celebrating due to the angry knee.

So on Saturday night, awesomeness gathered at the PA Brew Pub for a celebration. What a great night -  I had so much fun! I danced all night. I probably didn't need to jump each and every single time Kriss Kross instructed me to do so. I probably didn't have to shoot the Burt Reynolds (what was in that shooter, by the way?); however, in the moment, nothing hurt and life was gooood. I was a rock star.

mature young ladies

lookin' good

things begin to deteriorate

I did wake up at 6am Sunday morning feeling less than awesome. Realizing that Biloxi, the cat, was licking my armpit and my calves were seizing from dehydration and reckless dancing, it occurred to me that I am definitely NOT 21 anymore. Oh well, I told myself, that was totally worth it.

So I couldn't walk for a day. No biggie. Totally worth it. So my head was pounding to the rhythm of Jason Derulo's latest hit. Totally worth it.

But then 3 days later I got strep throat. I'm presently laying on my couch, swallowing razor blades with my NeoCitron and the fabulousness that was me on Saturday night is a distant memory. A very distant memory.

Yes, yes - thank you, body. I hear you loud and clear. Got it.

Moral of the story: You're never too old to party like a rockstar. Just be prepared for an armpit-licking cat, immobility, and strep throat.