Time flies when you’re lucky in life!

And today, August 8 is a giant reminder of how lucky I am.

8 years ago, I had my colon removed.
8 years ago, I got a second chance at life.
8 years ago, I hit the reset button and started living again.
8 years ago, I got really lucky.

It’s weird really to realize that 8 years have gone by since my life-changing surgery. I know for a lot of people having their colon removed and living with a permanent ileostomy does not sound like a lucky experience.

But, I guess this is where I’m fortunate. Since my diagnosis with ulcerative colitis in 2009 to finally having surgery in 2016, I lived a very up and down life.

So much time spent waiting in doctor’s offices. So many drugs that were supposed to be the answer but ultimately failed me. So many bike races and life accomplishments. So many days when I wanted to quit. So many rewarding experiences.

Many people who met me during this time likely didn’t know I was super sick and struggled to simply leave the house. Close friends and family really had no idea how hard it was to get out the door for a bike ride and to find the nerve to line up at a bike race.

Some days I wonder how I managed to do it. And this is when I remember one of the first things Marc said to me after my diagnosis “This is our new normal. We’ll figure this out.”

And that’s what we did. We made ulcerative colitis normal. It is part of me. Like the color of my eyes – I can’t change it. So we learned how to live life with it and to never let it take over and win.

There were (and are) days when I wish I didn’t have a chronic illness or disability. But I do. And there is nothing I can do about this. So my only option is to get on with living and doing as much as I can with this one chance.

It’s called perspective.

I see it and feel it daily. I have a permanent reminder of what I’m able to overcome. I have a daily reminder to always be striving and doing.

I owe this to myself, to Marc, to the brilliant doctors and nurses who gave me a second chance at life, to my family and friends, and to you.

Steve Prefontaine is a famous runner who was tragically killed in a car accident years ago. One of his quotes stands out for me:

“To give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the gift.”

And this is what August 8 is all about.

TL;DR I went to the hospital, I’m okay, do not worry. I want to share my story about some sub-par patient care.

As a doctor, when talking to patients, talk to them like human beings. Imagine you’re the one in the bed feeling sick and scared. Think about how you would like to be spoken to and treated.

Do not say this:

• “You must have body issues.”
• “We know – we are the doctors.”

Do not do this:

• Barge into the patient’s small bit of space, wake up the patient by speaking loudly, and demand instant attention.
• Immediately tell the patient what you are going to do without asking the patient how they are feeling.
• Assume you know more than the patient about their health situation and life with their health condition.
• Ignore the fear your patient is clearly communicating.
• Dismiss the patient’s concerns.

If you’re caring for a patient who has a permanent ileostomy do not do this:

• Start your conversation by telling the patient that “they must have body issues because of that thing,” and then point to the patient’s abdomen.
• Tell the patient that you have to remove their pouch – and not have any adhesive remover spray or wipes.
• Ignore the patient’s concerns about tearing her skin when you pull her pouch off.
• Assume you know more about living with an ileostomy than the patient and then tell the patient she is wrong when it comes to cleaning her skin and applying a new pouch.
• When the patient suggests you bring people like her in to have a conversation about what it’s like to live with an ileostomy and permanent disability, tell the patient “I know what it’s like.”
• When you tell the patient with zero warning that you’re going to insert your finger into her stoma and she tells you no – you need to slow down, stop, and talk to the patient like a real human being. Do not insist on a procedure with zero explanation. Do not tell the patient it won’t hurt – when you do not have a stoma and do not know what it actually feels like.
• When the patient asks you why you didn’t bring a stoma nurse down or get the appropriate supplies from a stoma nurse, do not respond with “well, that team is on the second floor.”
• Apply a new pouch without cleaning the patient’s skin and then walk away without any actual medical advice, compassion, or information about what will happen next.

This is what happened to me this past week when I ended up in the Civic Hospital in Ottawa for a severe intestinal blockage.

Up until this experience on Wednesday morning, I was very pleased with my care at the Civic Hospital.

I did not have to wait for a bed when I arrived on Tuesday evening. I had a nurse with me instantly and a doctor very quickly. Everyone was very compassionate and concerned about the tremendous pain I was in.

And then three doctors walked into my little space on Wednesday and made me feel invisible. These doctors minimized my concerns. They made me feel embarrassed about my body and my disability.

It’s taken me a few days to write about this because I still can’t believe it even happened. My fear is that these kind of interactions are common for people living with ileostomies, colostomies, urostomies, and other disabilities.

Since I’ve been home and chatting with friends about being in the hospital and why, I realized there was another massive gap in my care…

If you’re a doctor treating a patient with a severe intestinal blockage:

• Remember, while you need to relieve the blockage, the care does not end there.
• You need to ask the patient questions about their diet, hydration, and their stoma output for the last week or so.
• You need to ask the patient general questions about pain, cramping, fatigue, distention around their stoma, and how their body reacts to food.
• Your need to determine what caused the blockage.
• You need to provide the patient with answers.
• You need to tell the patient more than “follow a low residue diet”. Especially when you learn that the patient struggles with pain, digesting food, and frequent small blockages.

The crazy thing about this hospital experience is I’m left with minimal information about what to do next.

Should I change my diet? Do I need to pay more attention to electrolytes and hydration? Are there warning signs so I can prevent this from happening? Should I worry when I get pain after eating? Will this happen again?

If you’re a doctor, remember the patient is relying on you – they need you to help them. And if you don’t know or are unsure, ask someone – believe me, the patient wants you to. Patient care should not end with ticking a box on a form and discharging someone.

P.S. please do not worry. I am okay.

P.P.S. if you’re a doctor, nurse, or other healthcare practitioner who has questions about ileostomies, stomas, and disability – you can contact me, I’m more than happy to talk and answer your questions.

“So do you have a job yet? Or are you still unemployed?“

“I decided not to get a job. Instead I’m working as a freelance copywriter. Trying to get my own clients.“

“Hmm, so what do you do all day then?“

This is a real conversation I had last week with one of my neighbours…

It’s been eight weeks since my last day at the agency. The first few weeks were a shock to my system. I still couldn’t believe that I had done it. I definitely had a few days with my brain ping ponging one thought around all-day long:

“What have I done? Did I do the right thing? F*ck. What have I done?“

I think this is a normal reaction.

The good news is, I’m past this stage. I’ve moved through all the stages and now I’m sitting at pride and confidence.

It’s only in leaving the job I worked at for 10 years, that I’ve realized how much I know and how good I am at word magic. And no this is not bragging. It’s telling the truth.

Turns out that close to 15 years of ghostwriting B2B/B2C content adds up to a whole lot of knowledge.

I didn’t realize how much I knew when I was working at the agency. And I didn’t know that my ability to write about a wide range of topics was a big deal. I didn’t realize that it’s rare for writers to know a lot about SEO, Google algorithms, keywords, and AI. But it is. So yay me.

Since I’ve left and started my own freelance writing business:

• I’ve had a column published in a newsletter that is read by almost 5,000 people
• I was interviewed for a video podcast episode about writing people-to-people content (It’s not live yet.)
• I signed another client (And I have two more clients in my pipeline who will hopefully sign.)
• I learned how to write a contract
• I post weekly on LinkedIn
• I help others who have questions about content and SEO by contributing to Slack channels and commenting on LinkedIn posts
• I pitch articles to other websites
• I am steadily working on a list of courses to create and sell
• I attend weekly webinars to continue learning about AI, Google, content strategy, and SEO
• I read books about branding, strategy, being a solopreneur, and writing
• I network

So this is what I do all day. Plus I research, plan, and write for my two clients.

I’m busy. I still have so much more that I want to do with my day. I’ve signed up for three courses. I have ideas for a newsletter. I’m toying with adding a blog to my Good Words Work website. I need to learn how to create a course. I want to learn about Loom. I have lots of books to read. And so many ideas about what I can do now with my writing skills.

The best thing about all of this? I feel good. No, scratch that – I feel great.

I have a new feeling of confidence.
I know I can make this work.
I know I have an expertise and skillset that can benefit so many small- to medium-sized companies.

So, yeah, that’s work life in a nutshell. It’s really good.

The most amazing thing is, my renewed professional confidence has trickled over into the rest of life.

I feel like an entirely new person. I’m less stressed. My anxiety levels are way down. I’m happier. I’m a more enjoyable person to be around. I feel good about me.

Tomorrow I’m swimming Bring On The Bay. This is a 3 km swim from the Nepean Yacht Club to the Britannia Yacht Club.

I did this swimming event two years ago. I was a basket case leading up to the swim. I was so stressed. I remember at one point telling myself “This is the biggest sporting event of your life…” I kind of forgot I’ve competed in two world championships and raced my bike all over the world. Funny what the brain does when it’s stressed and freaking out.

This year is completely different. I know I can swim the distance. I know I’m a good swimmer. I know I’m fit. All I have to do is jump in and swim. I have one goal – swim in a straight line.

Swim from buoy to buoy and soon enough I’ll get there. Kind of like life. Just keep going.

Life lately has been a lot. A real a lot. So much a lot that I got lost.

I’m slowly coming back. It’s hard to pinpoint where things went sideways.

Maybe in January when I was sick for a month?

Maybe whenever I tried to make a fresh start and get back to my life as I knew it, I got sick again?

Maybe when my work life changed from being awesome to being less than?

Maybe when everything became too much and I told Marc that “I couldn’t make any more decisions”?

I’m telling you this so you know that if something similar is happening to you – you’re not alone. This kind of stress and chaos creeps up and before you know it, you have no idea who you are or why you are.

But here I am. Getting back. And I do have some news.

I quit my job. I don’t have another job. I have one writing client. That’s it.

This is counter to my entire being. I like plans. I like being organized. I like knowing what will likely happen next. Quitting a job and not having another one is none of this. But I did it anyway.

I had to.

And now I’m starting out again. It’s hard to do this after working with the same people for 10 years.

But I’m reminding myself that I’m damn good at words. In fact I’m utter magic when it comes to words. I’m freaking fantastic at writing words for brands, explaining their value, and why you need to trust and buy from them.

I’ve got a new website: Good Words Work. It’s simple and to the point. I would be thrilled if you could share it with anyone you know who needs word magic. Maybe you have website, blog, brand, or newsletter that needs better words? You should hire me. My new client calls me his “behind-the-scenes magic maker”. I’m guessing you could do with some magic.

So yeah. This is where I’m at right now. My last day at Know Agency was May 17.

I’m finding my feet again. Taking the time to breathe in and out slowly. Learning how to build a business and do all the networking.

I’ve got a big pile of books to read. Lots of webinars to attend. A long list of potential LinkedIn posts. Some ideas for a newsletter. I have a stack of notecards with sentences, ideas, and random thoughts, that I need to figure out what to do with.

In between all this, I’m getting friendly with my bike again. Geez, I missed that smooth ride. Looking forward to rebuilding my fitness and getting back to cyclo-cross racing in the fall. Yes – you read it right. Racing again – all in the name of fun and pushing myself to that deep place that feels so good.

And to make this happen, I’m working with my old coach – Steve Weller, of Bell Lap Coaching. If you’re a longtime reader, you may remember that Steve was the person who turned me from a back-of-the-packer to racing in World Cups and at the World Cyclo-Cross Championships in 2010.

I know that if there is one person who can help me get fit again, it’s Steve. And here’s the cool thing, he’s created some really smart cyclo-cross training plans on Training Peaks that you can use to get fit(ter). What I like about these plans is they include bike and strength work-outs that don’t require you to give up all your free time to training.

I seriously urge you to check out Steve’s cyclo-cross training plans (I’m using them and well, I know a thing or two about what it takes to get faster): ‘Cross is the Boss #1 and ‘Cross is the Boss #2. And the price is right – $29.99. Get faster. Use a real coach. What more could you want?

Okay, that’s it for me. I’ve been sitting at my desk since 10:00 this morning. Time for a break.

Thanks for being out there and reading my words. It helps knowing that you’re out there.

A few weeks ago I swam in my very first swim meet.

This was huge for me. So many unknowns. So many doubts. So much anxiety and stress.

But I did it. I am very fortunate to have a very good friend (and swim coach) who encouraged me to do the meet and provided the steadiness I needed on the day.

I swam the 200, 100, 50, and 800 events – all freestyle. Each of these events felt like they were over before they started.

I had one goal for the day – swim in a straight line. Yep, it’s harder than you think to do this. So my focus was on staying on top of that black line at the bottom of the pool. This goal and focus helped calm my brain from trying to think of all the swimming things.

I’m not going to sugarcoat it – I was super nervous before my first event, the 200. So nervous that while standing behind the blocks I had a bit of a panic attack. For me this results in tears simply pouring from my eyes. For the people around me this was startling. But I expected this to happen and knew (hoped) this would settle.

And guess what? It did.

All it took was jumping in the water and getting set for the start. No diving off the blocks for me.
Once I was in the water, I focused on the starter and listening for the beep. After that, it was a blur.

Once I swam my first event, the panic and intense nerves were gone. I did it. And I knew I could do it again.

I should tell you that during the warm-up for the meet, I did have some serious doubts. In fact at one point, I thought “this pool is too big, there is no way I can swim 50 meters.” Yep, I was nervous. Fortunately, I have a bit of experience in pushing back these kind of fears and was able to counter this thought-process with something along the lines of “you swam 1,000 meters in practice last week and you can swim 4,000 meters in the open water – so you can do this.”

Everything about this swim meet was a positive experience. The people, the vibe, the swimming, the feeling of accomplishment, and the fatigue. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

And guess what? No one cared that I didn’t dive off the blocks or that I was one of the slower swimmers. I was there and I was doing it.

This swim meet did something big for me. It gave me confidence. This confidence has trickled over into other parts of my life. I notice I’m playing better hockey with my Friday afternoon gang. I’m swimming better in my regular swim practices.

Most importantly, I believe in myself. I know I can do hard things. I know I can overcome self-doubt. I know I can.