Three Day - Day Two

[ladysprite]

We woke up at 5am on the second day of the walk, for numerous reasons. Ostensibly, we were up that early because everyone had to be dressed, breakfasted, and on the route by 7:30am, but honestly, it's impossible to sleep past sunrise in a tiny nylon tent. Between the sunlight and the heat, even the heaviest sleepers will wake up significantly on the early side. Also, the tents were thin enough and packed close enough that our neighbor's alarm was clearly and resoundingly audible in our little hot-pink EZ-Bake EZ-Up.

The second day of the walk is also the hardest, and the longest; the route that day was over 21 miles. It also suffers from sequel syndrome - the first day is easy because you're full of enthusiasm and not tired yet, and the third day you're inspired by the fact that it's almost over and the end is in sight. On the middle day, though, you're worn out from having walked the day before, it's no longer new and shiny, and you still have a whole other day to go after this, so motivation is challenging.

Luckily, the day started out cool and foggy, which at least helped keep us get going at the start. We got dressed for the day, which was a little more involved at this point, since it meant putting on all of our accumulated 3 Day bling - part of the culture of Komen is the handing out of cute little decorations. By the start of the second day, we had each accumulated at least three strands of Mardi Gras beads (pink, of course, with the occasional purple or gold highlight), a handful of buttons celebrating our team status and fundraising milestones, multiple rubber bracelets, and more stickers than I could count - one for each Pit Stop, at least. Eventually, armored and ready, we hit the road. The Pink Angels cheering squad were once again positioned just outside the camp, and I looked at the route as a personal challenge - could I make it the whole way?

Our spirits were also kept up by the friends who came to cheer us along the way. umbran, angel that he is, was positioned front and center at the first cheering section of the day, holding up an utterly awesome homemade poster (complete with stencils and rainbow-colored cutout letters) that said "GO TEAM SHADOW," which just delighted my heart in a way that the most expensive gifts can't, and later that morning irseri and medeaschild were waiting to wave, cheer, accept sweaty hugs, and offer us cold water and an unexpected puppy break. I mentioned before that the cheering sections were amazing, and it's even more true when there's a face you recognize in the crowd, come out just for you. Those two encounters kept my feet moving more than anything else that day - if my friends and loved ones could support me and have faith in me, how could I have any less faith in myself?

Unfortunately, the morning's cool fog rapidly burned off, and the day became scorchingly hot and humid. By lunchtime it felt like we were walking through an extremely unpleasant sauna. tpau fell prey to blisters, heat, and an ouchy knee, and had to take the sweeper van for part of the afternoon (Komen makes sure that there are official vans driving up and down the entire walk route; if at any point you feel like you need a break from walking the van will stop, pick you up, and take you to the next Pit Stop). She alternated between walking and riding for the rest of the afternoon, while I managed to tough it out.

One of the nicest things about the 3 Day, though, is the fact that I never had to walk alone. Anyone that I wound up walking near made a point to say hello, ask how my walk was going, and make small talk - we were all becoming part of one big team, we were all taking part in something bigger than ourselves, and we were all supporting each other. I met other teams, and families, and other solo walkers, and even if we only walked together for a few minutes before our paces separated us, when I ran into them again later in the weekend I was always greeted with smiles and hugs. The sense of community is amazing, and something I've only seen rarely before... and hope to see more often in the future.

I did my best to take care of myself as I walked. I soaked my bandanna in water, filled it with ice, and tied it around my neck. I put ice down my shirt, under my hat, and, when the bandanna got too irritating on my neck, around my wrists. I drank water and Gatorade by the gallon - no matter how disgusting the stuff is under general circumstances, I chugged down enough of the stuff to develop a favorite flavor, which is a scary thought (I admit to being partial to the purple stuff. It still tastes like sweat, but at least it doesn't taste like sweat and artificial fruit flavor.) And, one foot in front of the other, one step at a time, I made it back to camp by 4:30pm. 40 miles down, in two days.

That, sadly, was when things went funny, and not in a good way. While I was walking, I had the breeze created by my own movement, and I was out in the open, with two 24-oz bottles full of cold liquid strapped to my person at all times. Back in camp, while I was able to take off my shoes and sit down, I was also sitting still, under a canopy, with no air moving, and my water bottles were back in the tent. I tried to drink water and stay cool, but it still felt like I was being microwaved. By 5:00 I was feeling headachy and cranky and a little disoriented, and about half an hour after that the nausea hit. When it kept getting worse, I wandered over to the medical tent.

The nurses lay me down in the shade next to a fan, and though I started to feel better enough to keep a few sips of water and a pretzel or two down, after about ten minutes they decided that I was heat-sick enough to need an IV to rehydrate, cool, and generally fix me. After 20 minutes and a liter of saline, they still weren't quite happy with my condition (though I was starting to feel better), so another liter went into my vein... and I started to feel worse. I was eventually released by a skeptical and concerned nurse, with orders to come back if I felt at all off and a caveat that I wouldn't be allowed to walk the next day until I came back for a recheck in the morning -

tpau (who, being an amazing and dedicated friend, had sat with me through the whole ordeal) and I went back to the dining tent, where I managed to eat most of my dinner, and I decided that maybe a shower would help me feel better. Unfortunately (again), the mugginess of the shower truck was cloying and sickening, and even though I did my best to avoid making myself either too hot or too cold, by the time I managed to dry off and climb into my pajamas I felt like I was dying. I'm not quite sure how I got back to our tent, but the ever-kind and ever-pragmatic tpau managed to carry/drag me back to the medical tent. I'm not quite clear on the details after that; I know that I was shaking and crying and trying not to throw up on the nice nurses, and that I was fairly quickly ferried onto an ambulance and thence to the hospital.

Blessedly, extended diagnostics found nothing more serious than a massive case of heatstroke. We managed to get in touch with umbran, who came racing down to sit next to me and hold my hand, and after much bloodwork and attaching of wires to my person and several IV doses of anti-nausea and anti-headache meds, I wound up feeling much more human. By 1am, thanks to yet another Komen volunteer (this one a driver whose sole duty was apparently to ferry walkers and staff members to and from local hospitals - I was far from the only casualty), we were on our way back to camp and our tent, and it was finally, magically, cool enough to sleep....

Comments

[tpau]

yeah, this is the day i learned that a)riding in the back of an ambulance is kinda no fun at all as the AC is bad, and he shocks are not there or something and b)ambulances can be pink and c)i have never seen a human with that many wires attached outside a movie before :P

[tpau]

also, it was an "adventure"

[hermitgeecko.livejournal.com]

I was shocked about three years back to discover how bad ambulance shocks are. I always assumed they would be WAY better than that.

I was also surprised by how good the soundproofing is, which was helpful at the time (since they wanted to talk to me and make sure I was conscious and all that), but if I'd had a broken limb at the time, I would've traded the one for the other.

[vettecat.livejournal.com]

Very glad you're ok!

[medeaschild.livejournal.com]

Heatstroke and dehydration are bad. And sometimes gallons of electolytes just aren't enough.

Though, on the upside, you were with people who knew what to do about it and had lots of practice, so if you're going to get heatstroke, that is the place to do it.

I also suggest amusement parks.

[arachne8x.livejournal.com]

Heat stroke is terrible, and unfortunately when you are the person having it, it can be very hard to recognize and very scary.

I've both been through it myself (while running a race) and shepherded a friend through a thankfully much less severe case than yours.

I'm grateful that the people with the walk took such good care of you. Obviously they have to be prepared to treat people with heatstroke, but as medeaschild said above, if another friend of mine is going to go through heatstroke, I want it to be in a place where the person can be very well cared for.

Well done lady.

[hermitgeecko.livejournal.com]

Thank you for sharing! These replays are really powerful. And I'm so glad tpau was there with you!