Category Archives: Family

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A Mother’s Tears

I have three drafts about running Philly for the Epilepsy Therapy Project. Each time the words weren’t quite there, but I wanted so badly to share with you my experience. Given the one thing that hit me the hardest in Philly, I am particularly overwhelmed with where our country is right now.

I am an adult. I was diagnosed with epilepsy when I was 32. There are a lot of annoying things that come along with that, but for the most part I am extremely fortunate. I had 32 years without epilepsy. 32 years of answering n/a to chronic health conditions on surveys. 32 years of answering n/a to current medications. 32 years of riding amusement park rides. 32 years of doing just about whatever I wanted to do without giving it a second thought. Because my epilepsy isn’t genetic I don’t live with the fear that I may have passed the gene to my children. I’m fortunate in more ways than I can count.

As we worked to raise money for this project I began to meet the moms of children with epilepsy. When we were in Philly I sat with a mother whose son is the same age as my youngest son. For no apparent reason at all, several years ago her son developed epilepsy. He can no longer communicate with her and they have yet to find any medicine that controls his endless daily seizures. He can not tell her what he wants for lunch. He can not tell her what he wants to wear. He can not tell her how his medicine makes him feel. He can not tell him when he feels something taking over his body in the form of a seizure. He can not tell her he loves her. He can not tell her he is mad at this thing called epilepsy that has stolen his life. This mom, this mom’s tears have stayed with me every single day.

I have thought how many times we hear a parent say when a child is ill “I wish it was me”. How fortunate I am that it is already me. I remember the heartache I felt when my mother told us she had leukemia. Then she said what I now understand. “If someone at this table has to have cancer I would rather it be me.” It’s the parent in us all, please God, give ME the pain to relieve my children the agony. As overwhelmed as I have been with grief for this mom and her son, I have felt so blessed that I am the patient.

Over the last two weeks I have seen so much pain and loss. Children of people that I love have lost their parents to accidents and sudden illness that we can not explain on this side of heaven. I was overwhelmed with the thoughts of those innocent children who lost their parents. Then Friday….I have no words… My thoughts were again of innocent children and their parents left behind. As we all did, I hugged my kids tighter and longer, and I felt even more blessed than I had just the minute before. Why? I have no answer. How? I have no answers.

What I know is this, just as I felt when I watched the tears fall from that sweet mom’s face in Philly as she shared with me about her daily struggles, I’m blessed in ways I can not fathom. What we must do is let those tears magnify those around us. Slow down and love on those that surround you, tomorrow is never promised. Today is here.

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, December 2012

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Amazing Grace

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, That saved a wretch like me….
I once was lost but now am found, Was blind, but now, I see.

T’was Grace that taught… my heart to fear. And Grace, my fears relieved.
How precious did that Grace appear… the hour I first believed.

Through many dangers, toils and snares… we have already come.
T’was Grace that brought us safe thus far… and Grace will lead us home.

The Lord has promised good to me… His word my hope secures.
He will my shield and portion be… as long as life endures.

I’m surrounded by amazing grace, reminders of God’s amazing grace everyday.

Several weeks ago I was at my Grandmother’s and I heard a familiar tune when I walked through the sitting area. There, in a reclined wheelchair, I saw lady who couldn’t have weighed more than 90 lbs. Her hair was neatly brushed and was the same beautiful powder white color of the sand I love in Rosemary Beach, FL. She had silly fluffy socks on her feet, I assumed she didn’t need shoes because she probably rarely walked without help. Her arms were folded over her body but her wrinkled hands showed her age and her fingers overlapped each other with arthritis. This little lady who sat curled up in her chair was absolutely belting out Amazing Grace! For almost a solid hour this beautiful woman sat in the sitting area and sang of grace. As I would pass people in the hallway I could see people’s faces light up as they heard her sing. I wondered about her life before she had to move into a nursing home and I thought how cool it is that God gave her the gift to recall a song about grace at that stage of her life. What fears and dangers has God’s grace brought her safely through? Her life has endured and He has been her shield and whether her mind was in the world or not she was going to sing about it.

God’s grace surrounds me. Perhaps it’s time to put on my own silly fluffy socks and belt out my own tunes. What I saw that day was an amazing picture of God’s amazing grace.

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, October 2012

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Purpose Centers Us

I left the working world more than five years ago. It was a complicated matter, but clearly the healthiest option for me. With both of my children in school now and a college degree under my belt, I still struggle with people asking what I do with my time. Truly, some days I am so busy from the time my family leaves the house to the time the buses start rolling down the road, I haven’t taken a bathroom break. Then some days all I do is get up, walk the dog and go back to bed. On those days I am annoyed that I’m tired all the time, but I must accept the reality of my circumstances and move forward.

I just turned 39, gasp (yes Ashley, I just openly admitted my age!) and a decade ago I would have told you I would rather spend a day deer hunting with Johnny than be a stay at home Mom. Alas, here I sit, with a snoring dog at my feet, dishwasher running, clothes in the washer and dryer, kids at school and it’s the middle of the day. I never would have pictured this…surely not the dog part! At 39, I thought I would be well established in my career, although in this economy who really is at any age right? Since life dealt me some unexpected blows (pun intended) I look to the future and wonder if I will be a career stay at home Mom.

The other significant part of my attention is focused on my grandmother. She just turned 97, and though she lives in a full time nursing facility now, she is still old school southern Georgia and she likes things just “so”. She wants her bed made with hospital corners, and she is more than happy to offer training, she wants a cloth napkin with all her meals, and she puts on her lipstick, stockings and shoes every single day even if she doesn’t leave her bedroom. She has Parkinson’s Disease, but for the most part her mind is with us. Let’s face it, mostly she is just old, slow and somewhat forgetful. When I quit work I started spending a couple of days a week with her and over the years it has evolved into a different kind of experience.

Each morning at 9:15, I call to tell her what day it is and remind her what she is doing that day. She depends on that to get her day started. Every Tuesday and Friday I spend a few hours with her. I wash her clothes and even iron her cotton t-shirts just like she likes them. I polish her finger nails and I even trim her toenails (when absolutely necessary). I do her shopping and keep her favorite chocolate candy dish full. A true southern host always has something on hand to offer any guest that stops by. You will be hard pressed to stop by her room and not be offered a Hershey’s nugget! We have a routine; we have a language and a method of communication that many would not understand.

When I think about where my life would be if I were still working, I wonder where HER life would be. For the last 34 years I have lived within 15 minutes from her. There has always been a strong bond. She drove to the hospital in the late night hours when I was in labor with Justin to be there when he was born. After Johnny and me, she was the first person to hold both of our children when they were born. She even taught Hunter how to count change when he used to go with me to her apartment to help her before he started school. She also taught him how to make beds with hospital corners! His reward was one Andes mint. It was an unfortunate day when he figured out where she hid the bag. After 90+ years, what quality of life would she be having now if I were working?

I was dashing out the door for church last night and I grabbed a Bible that I don’t frequently use. It’s a smaller Bible that doesn’t have much reference material in it. I used to carry it at work and use it during our devotions and staff meetings. Last night when I grabbed the pages to flip to Acts, my hands grasped the entire back portion of my Bible and I noticed some writing. Odd, I thought since I had very little writing in this Bible. Inside the back cover I had written “Purpose Centers Us.” Hmm, interesting…. I was intrigued. I read on….”I’ve been set in my location for a specific purpose. I’m strategically placed, not abandoned, not forgotten.” Well, I’ll be! You would think there was a God in heaven that had a plan and knew more than we do right?

Stop looking, stop wondering. Know that God set me in this location for a specific purpose and I may be fulfilling it right now and not even relishing the joy of the season. The smell of the diesel school bus fumes may be fresh breeze scents to the working mom who would love to watch her kids bounce off the school bus. Fighting the most recent meal stains in my grandmother’s shirts would be a joy to my dear friend who just had to say goodbye to her treasured grandmother.

Purpose does indeed center us. So often we just haven’t taken the time to realize what the purpose really is. Maybe you are already in your strategic location fulfilling His purpose for your life now and you just haven’t clearly identified with it. He hasn’t forgotten you. When you identify your purpose you will find more joy and happiness in fulfilling His plan.

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, October 2012

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The Power of the Purple Ribbon

November is not just about the turkey. November is also National Epilepsy Awareness Month. It’s a little known fact and one that my family decided would become better known this year. This was a conscious decision that I made, and not one that I took lightly.

The most difficult part of sharing this blog is letting people connect the diagnosis to me. My blog lets people know I have the disorder. Sometimes that can be a tough pill to swallow, literally. When you pin on a purple ribbon the whole point is to raise awareness and hope that people will ask what it represents. It’s one thing to wear a purple ribbon and tell people you are wearing it because you know someone with epilepsy. It’s another can of hot tamales to tell a complete stranger that I’m wearing a purple ribbon because I have epilepsy. Get ready for some awkward moments, stares and comments. People have preconceived ideas about epilepsy and whether the information they have is true or false, and I had to be mentally prepared. I learned a long time ago (from our dear Kathleen) that awkward moments are more about the other person than me, and in the end, the cause is worth a few weird minutes of my day. After all, everyone has issues, I’m just bold enough to tell people what mine are.

Epilepsy Awareness at our house started with one spool of purple ribbon and one box of pins. Johnny came home and saw me with a glue gun (which is the absolute extent of my crafting skills) and asked what I was planning to do. I told him I planned to make a few lapel ribbons for us all to wear in November and maybe a few extras to give away. I made 10 ribbons that night.  I never could have dreamed what I would see unfold over the next 30 days!

One spool of purple ribbon and one box of pins is where Epilepsy Awareness in our house started. Here’s what it became…

my husband wearing a purple ribbon every single day, even if he never left the house.

my children wearing purple ribbons on their shirts, jackets and backpacks everyday and carrying extras everyday to share.

my 13 year old proclaiming Epilepsy Awareness Day at his middle school, speaking to his entire school, educating them and asking them all to wear purple to support the cause. All of his teachers, most of his classmates (some even in purple socks), many in his grade and dozens of others in the school supporting the cause by wearing purple and wearing the 200+ ribbons he shared.

my 8 year old following his brother’s lead, speaking to his entire elementary school about epilepsy and asking them to wear purple on the day he chose as Epilepsy Awareness Day. His classmates, decked out in purple (leggings and headbands included), students, faculty and staff wearing purple or one of the 100+ ribbons he shared, all because a little boy told them he was doing something for his mom.

posts on Facebook from friends saying that all the kids at the bus stop were wearing purple.

posts on Facebook from friends letting me know they were wearing purple.

my Mom wearing the same purple shirt day after day after day (I do so love my Mom).

my Mom’s co-workers sporting their purple duds.

my mother in law wearing her purple ribbon at Thanksgiving dinner.

my sister in law wearing purple on the day my son chose as Epilepsy Awareness Day at his school.

my friend wearing her ribbon at the school where she teaches and hearing how she is sharing about epilepsy with her students.

seeing one of my purple ribbons pinned neatly on a friend’s sweater when I met her for lunch.

a picture on Facebook of a friend wearing her purple ribbon and sharing the meaning behind it.

sitting down in church and seeing a friend wearing the ribbon we gave her the week before.

a relative who recognized symptoms I described in my blog, sought medical attention, and was finally correctly diagnosed with seizures.

a friend reaching out to me after experiencing break through seizures for the first time in years.

a phone call from an advocate in Tennessee who read my story and was looking for people willing to speak out.

an email from a lady in Nebraska who developed epilepsy from a brain injury and has never been able to explain how she feels to her family. They now read my blog and understand her emotions in a way she hasn’t been able to express.

one epilepsy fact or thought on my Facebook wall each day to educate and inform others.

our 4′ Christmas tree in the playroom decorated with the leftover purple ribbons.

A dozen spools of purple ribbon and 5 boxes of pins later, Epilepsy Awareness took on a life of its own in 30 days.

Where this goes from here and what my role in it will be, is anyone’s guess. The staggering truth is that Epilepsy affects nearly 3 million Americans and is still one of the least understood major chronic medical conditions. Unfortunately many patients have cases too severe to speak for themselves. They can’t speak up but they desperately need people willing to speak out. I’m among the fortunate, I’m able to speak up and I’m loud enough to speak out. Hang on folks, please remain seated with your seatbelt buckled and enjoy your ride. Something tells me this train is about to leave the station.

There’s power in that purple ribbon!

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, December 2011

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Chicago Recap

Another 26.2 is history! The Chicago Marathon was a tremendous success in every way possible! My friends and family, AKA Wookie’s Warriors, donated a whopping $4627 to support my marathon honoring my Mom!  The North Carolina Chapter raised $66,236 and the National total topped $990,000! Team in Training was well represented with 401 runners from across the country decked out in purple from head to toe. This was the biggest marathon I’ve ever run, with 45,000 runners and 1.7 million spectators lining all 26.2 miles! I’ve spent the last couple of weeks trying to digest the sights, sounds and emotions of the weekend that you made possible.
 
We arrived in Chicago on Friday and took care of race business and prep right away so we could enjoy some of Chicago’s sights.  Saturday evening we loaded up on carbs with TNT runners, coaches and Honored Heroes from all over the country.  Mom was even recognized on the big screen as our North Carolina Honored Hero!  The speaker was John “The Penquin” Bingham, whose quote “The miracle isn’t that I finished. The miracle is that I had the courage to start” is a favorite among noncompetitive runners like me.  We also heard from the father of the Illinois Chapter’s Honored Hero. His son was diagnosed with aggressive leukemia at just 18 months old.  Now he is a healthy and vibrant 3 year old who screamed for his daddy and ran onto the stage in the middle of the program. I loved it!  It was a perfect example of why we had all worked so hard on behalf of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.
 
As usual, there is never a dull moment when I’m involved in a race. As we walked back to our hotel after dinner, I was nearly run over by a skateboarder who lost control of his board. Thankfully Mari (my TNT coach and constant running partner for the last 10 months) heard the noise and saw him with enough time to scream for me to move and push me out of the way. I glanced back as his board hit a light pole and he stumbled behind me. We just had to laugh!  Seriously… Only I would come to Chicago to run a marathon and nearly get run over by a skateboarder!  I fear Johnny is going to start insisting I wear a helmet every time I leave the house if this keeps up! And so it goes…
 
Early to bed, early to rise. We met our group at 5:30 Sunday morning for the 1.5 mile walk to the starting line. Yes! We had to walk 1.5 miles to the start. I was quick to calculate that the walk home from the finish line would be close to 2 miles. I was certain I had only agreed to 26.2 miles and I wasn’t sure how those extra 3.5 miles got thrown in the mix.  Oh well, not much I could do about it then. Onward!  I finished up my traditional pre-run breakfast of orange juice, coffee, grits, yogurt, half a banana and 3 peanut butter crackers as we followed the masses headed to the starting line. The sun began to light up Grant Park and we made our way to the starting corrals where we lined up based on our estimated pace.
 
As the clocked ticked closer to 7:30 AM, we could make out the sound of the National Anthem and the applause began to flow back through the crowd. Here we go! The music started pumping and we finally began inching our way to the starting line. The slow, crowded walk to the starting line is my favorite moment of race day.  OK, well the finish is fabulous, but the energy and emotion at the starting line is spectacular. There is a little bit of everything going on in those minutes on the way to the starting line. I love to really breathe in the excitement, anticipation, anxiety and fear that surrounds me. This is the best people watching place in the world!  Every runner has a story behind their quest for the marathon medal and I always wonder what prompts each person to put one foot in front of the other and go for it.  Everyone looks sharp in their specially chosen race day attire. I can also spot the new runners right away and know that by mile 3 they will sorely regret their outfit of choice.  I love seeing the smiles, laughter, chit-chat, high-fives and fist-bumps as well as the tears, memorials and pictures. So many people, so many stories, so many places and yet all our paths have led to this one place at this one appointed time in our lives where 45,000 runners will cover the same distance on the same day.
 
It took us 15 minutes to make our way to the official start. By then the lead runners were already past the 5K mark, but I already knew my time wasn’t going to bring home the winner’s purse, so I didn’t let it hurt my pride. As we passed under the first tunnel and ran into the city streets I was overwhelmed. I have never seen so many people interested in runners! I knew my family and fellow TNT peeps back home would be tracking me online and receiving automatic text messages throughout the race when I passed various points, but I never dreamed thousands of people would get up at the crack of dawn to watch lunatics traverse the streets of Chicago! I’m used to dodging bikes, dogs and annoyed drivers who can’t stand waiting an extra couple of minutes to get to a drive-thru where they remain seated in their comfy cars waiting for an egg mcmuffin with a side of fried hash browns.  In Chicago, every part of the course was lined with spectators ringing cowbells, blaring stereos, screaming our names, passing out pretzels, oranges, skittles, cookies and cold water. Crowds were sometimes a dozen people deep with people perched on the side of bridges, hanging off balconies and standing on chairs. The entire city embraced the marathon in ways that I can not begin to describe. There were over 13,000 volunteers offering words of encouragement as they gave out water and Gatorade every mile or so (I even saw beer offered, but I refrained since that had not been part of my standard training practice).  Even the runners were cheering on each other. Several of us ran parts of the course together and we all had “Wookie” printed on the back of our shirts. People would see us and yell “Go Wookies!” How great is that?!
 
I saw lots of quotes on signs and on shirts in Chicago. My favorite of the day was “One day I will not be able to run. Today is not that day.”  It served as a constant reminder that I was running for those who could not, or one day would not be able to run. I was running for those who wished they were healthy enough to do what I was doing and I was making it count for a bigger cause than just myself.  I won’t deny that I needed to conquer Chicago to prove to myself that I’m bigger than Epilepsy. I needed my Chicago medal as proof that regardless of my circumstance I could still beat the odds. I knew that October 9th was NOT going to be the day that I could not run.
 
The highlights of the race came at miles 1, 11, 17 and 25. There she was, in this packed crowd of 1.7 million people. This wild woman wearing purple, clanging her TNT cowbell, screaming at the top of her lungs and waving a purple sign that said “Go Gatewood!” Yep! That’s my Momma! I have no idea how she made it around the city so quickly and managed to grab a front row spot every time. I don’t know how she was able to find me in a crowd of 45,000 or that I was able to find her in the crowd of spectators. Obviously the Gatewood sign helped, but still, there were lots of people and yet we always saw each other. At mile 25, when I was practically counting the footsteps that were left until the finish, I heard a familiar voice and looked off to the left side of the road. That wild woman again! Mom was standing out in the street waving and jumping and squealing. That sight made it worth it. Eight months of hard core training, an entire summer rearranged according to a training schedule, lots of early morning alarms, several pairs of shoes, six months of fund-raising and a lifetime worth of spaghetti. All of it was worth the chance to see my Mom, healthy and energetic, cheering me on in the final mile of the Chicago Marathon. This experience was what I had envisioned back in 2006 when I ran my first race with Team in Training. I’ve logged a gazillion miles and raised almost $15,000 for LLS since then and I have no regrets. It was worth every step (and every blister)!
 
When we got back to Charlotte, we took the elevator in the parking deck to our car. As we gingerly began the post-marathon limp towards the car, the lady beside me stopped and made eye contact with me. She pointed to my coach’s backpack logo and asked if we were with the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. I told her we were returning from running the Chicago Marathon to raise money for LLS. She said “Thank you for doing that. My brother died from leukemia a couple of years ago. That’s a good thing you are doing.”  Here I was, on the top of the parking deck at the Charlotte airport with a stranger, and one more vivid reminder that the challenge was worthwhile.
 
26.2 miles wasn’t easy. Cancer isn’t easy, but running in hopes of a cure just makes sense. I would do it all over again (and yes, I probably will) if just one doctor can tell one patient that they have reason to hope.  Hope still exists for those who believe and I believe.
 
I’m thankful for Wookie’s Warriors.
I’m thankful for $4627 for LLS.
I’m thankful for the ability to run.
I’m thankful for the power of my purple peeps.
I’m thankful for the lessons I have learned from a brain injury and Epilepsy.
I’m thankful that running restores my mind and energizes my spirit.
I’m thankful for my family that supports my insanity.
I’m thankful that 26.2 miles (actually closer to 30 miles) is behind me.
I’m thankful that I set a new personal best marathon time.
I’m thankful that my Mom is a SURVIVOR!
I’m thankful and I’m blessed.
 
Copyright  © Gatewood Campbell, October 2011
 

Mom on the big screen at the National TNT Inspiration Dinner!