A few thoughts about Jesse

I was not surprised to see a steady stream of friends and family of Jesse Alswager pour into the church for the 4-hour visitation prior to his funeral last Monday.  Several people I've grown to know and love through Triabetes were there, as well as other friends of Michelle's that I've gotten to know in the past few years.  We took time together to reflect on Jesse and what a wonderful and amazing kid he was, and how he will be missed--of course tremendously by his family, but also by the rest of us.  The last time I saw Jesse was when he gave up his room for me to stay with his family for the JDRF Gala last spring.  He had this confident and happy manner about him that I will not forget.

During the two short days I was in Madison, I learned even more about Jesse.  My strongest impression was how well loved he was by everyone who knew him, and how he will be missed immeasurably.  He was a light in the lives of many.  I thought I would share just a few of the many other things that I learned.

When his sister's friends came to visit her, they also wanted to visit with Jesse. He had a knack for making them laugh and keeping life fun.  They felt like Jesse was their little brother, too.  He was a loved big brother as well, and didn't complain to have his little brother come along.

Jesse was an excellent student of the guitar; his teacher put his lesson last because he enjoyed teaching him so much and liked to end his day that way.  Jesse didn't need to be reminded to practice.

His school friends loved him dearly and wrote their thoughts down on some large banners that were displayed at the visitation.  It was clear that he touched many people at his school.

Jesse never complained about having diabetes, but took it all in stride.  I don't know many who can make this same claim.  I think the only time he had a hard time was the first time he started using insulin pump infusion sets.  Those needles are long. . .

Jesse represented all of us numerous times in local, state, and national events.  He was honored by Governor Doyle of Wisconsin and had opportunities to testify before Congress regarding stem cell research and other issues.  He was an advocate helping to improve the lives of all of us with type 1 diabetes.

Jesse loved snowboarding and loved his good buddy Sean Busby, who loved him equally back.  With Jesse's inspiration, Sean took his snowboarding camps to a new level, helping many kids with type 1 diabetes the world over.  Sean asked us to ponder, when we might be too afraid to move ahead in life, what Jesse might do.  Don't wait; go for it.

Diabetes was obviously a part of Jesse's life but he was still a kid like any other who loved to be with friends, to spend time with his family, and to pursue other interests.

These are just a few thoughts that don't even begin to do justice in capturing Jesse's spirit.  For that, I would recommend that you read the poem by Joe Brady that is posted here on Michelle's blog.

It is still hard for me to wrap my mind around the reality of what has happened.  My heart aches for his family.  Yet, the message that I carry with me is to take charge of life, and to live it with joy and wonder, despite diabetes or whatever other obstacles might appear before me.  I hope that by doing so, in some small way, I can honor Jesse's life and keep him and his family in my heart.

BRAVA Magazine Hosting Fundraiser for Jesse

The following was posted by BRAVA magazine, where Jesse's mom, Michelle, works.  If you are in the Madison area, please consider attending this event.  This is separate from the events on Monday at the Good Shepherd Church.

Here at BRAVA, we are mourning the loss of an extended member of our company's family.

On February 3rd, 2010—at age 13—Jesse Alswager was taken from his family and friends all too soon. Jesse, the son of BRAVA's Marketing and Events Director Michelle Page Alwager, lived with type 1 diabetes since age 3 and was known as "everyone's little brother." Jesse and his family have been recognized as strong advocates nationwide for type 1 and finding a cure, and he was passionate about guitar, drums and snowboarding.

Spread the word and come out to the Lazy Oaf Lounge anytime after 5pm on February 10th to celebrate his life and raise money for the family. There will be a free buffet of food, a place to donate to the fund directly and in addition, 50% of the proceeds from anything purchased that evening will go to the Jesse Alswager Memorial Fund.

If you aren't able to make it, The Jesse Alswager Memorial Fund has been set up at UW Credit Union, and all UW Credit Union branches will be able to accept donations, or donations can be mailed to:

Jesse Alswager Memorial Fund
c/o UW Credit Union
PO Box 44963
Madison, WI 53744-4963

If you'd like to donate online via Paypal, visit: https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=GMW43ZYQXJR9C

Please spread the word and keep the entire Alswager family in your thoughts...we hope to see you there!

Funeral Services for Jesse Alswager

Funeral services for Jesse Alswager will be held at Good Shepherd Lutheran Church, 5701 Raymond Road, Madison, at 7 p.m. on Monday, Feb. 8, 2010, with Chaplain Linda O'Leary presiding. Visitation will be at the church from 3 p.m. until the time of the service. In lieu of flowers, memorials may be made to U. W. Credit Union, Jesse Alswager Memorial Fund.

Share your condolences here: http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/jessealswager
Memorial tributes can be donated from the above link in the "My Story" section.

Memorial for Jesse Alswager

Email from Joe Brady earlier:

Here's the updated information on Michelle Alswager and her son, Jesse.

You can visit a memorial website at http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/jessealswager. There you will be able to read "Jesse's Story," leave a guestbook message for Michelle and her family, and donate to the Jesse Alswager Memorial Fund at the UW Credit Union through PayPal. You can also donate through snailmail at:

Jesse Alswager Memorial Fund
c/o UW Credit Union
PO Box 44963
Madison, WI 53744-4963

The visitation and funeral will be held Monday from 3 to 7 pm on the west side of Madison on Raymond Road. Jesse's obituary is scheduled for Saturday's Wisconsin State Journal.

Watch the local news Channel 27 Thursday evening news at 10:00 for a feature on Jesse. Channel 15 may also have a segment on Thursday (or on Friday).

At present, Michelle and family have plenty of food. She's answering her phone when she can. Since you are a supporter of the cause to cure diabetes, take comfort in Michelle's words and spirit as found on Jesse's memorial website. Michelle writes, "I've spent the past 10 years fighting for Jesse and a cure, and rest assured his passing is just the beginning."

**

If you would like to mail a card to Michelle and her family, please email me for her mailing address.

Beyond Belief

I am so incredibly saddened to share that Jesse Alswager, who inspired not only his mother Michelle, but countless others in the diabetes community, passed away last night.  Michelle was tireless in her efforts to support finding a cure for type 1 diabetes, and in showing people with diabetes that they could live full and happy lives.  Jesse was 13 years old, and was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes 10 years ago in March.  He was loved by all who knew him.

More information will be forthcoming but I believe that in lieu of flowers, a memorial fund will be set up.  If you would like to email condolences for Michelle and her family, you can send them to an email that I set up: forjessealswager@gmail.com.  I will make sure they are delivered to Michelle.

I have just heard that funeral services may be happening Monday in Madison, Wisconsin, although this has not been confirmed.  I will post more details as they become available.

From Sean Busby:  "If it was not for my hero Jesse, Riding on Insulin Snowboarding Camps would have been a fling. Jesse and Michelle were my diabetes support system and the reason of making Riding on Insulin go global. Jesse inspired so many and has helped so many children and adults that suffer from diabetes. His mother is an amazing fighter and she fought along side of Jesse for everyone that has type 1 diabetes - in his name. Our sky will now shine brighter now as we have a new star in the sky. He is loved and missed tremendously."

Note: I should re-emphasize that funeral plans are tentative and have NOT been confirmed yet.

Early Bird Crit, Revisited

Last year after my horrible crash, when I was still unable to get out of bed without crying tears of pain, I was faced with the decision of whether I would get a kit (jersey + bike shorts) for the bike race team I had joined.  "Why in the world would I even consider this?"  The final diagnosis had been fractures in my left clavicle, 9 posterior ribs (if I add up all the fractures reported on the Xrays) and L2 transverse process, pleural effusion, severe bruising and road rash.  I have never gone through anything else even remotely as painful, physically, as that experience.  But, I decided that it was not a good time to make the decision to quit.  I would order the kit.

As the months passed, I thought a lot about what I would do with bike racing.  I debated, "Do I actually want to get over this crash?"  Was the right thing to recover and get back in the game, or take my exit?  One might say that it is brave to go back, to face the fears.  On the other hand, what about the notion of learning from one's experience in order to avoid harm in the future?  Perhaps it would be foolish?  What risks could I live with for something that was not required to get along in life?

So early this year, when I decided to attend the Early Bird clinics, I wasn't planning on participating in the practice races.  Last year, I had decided that I would never do a crit again.  Crits equalled crashing in my mind, even though I had seen many friends get through them successfully, uninjured.  I had done 3 of the practice crits and 8 hours of clinics leading up to that race; but those were trumped by one very bad race.  All of this year's Early Bird clinics and practice races, as well as the official crit, were on the same course where I crashed last year, and I hadn't been back since that day.  

When I got there the first week, all the memories came pouring back in. I remembered where I had tossed my arm warmers right before the start (and had seriously regretted later).  Were they still there?  I remembered where I had parked my car, and how a friend's friend had retrieved it for me, since I was in the hospital (and wouldn't be driving for 2 months).  I remembered that trip to the hospital on the spine board, wondering what this would mean for me.  This year, in the first clinic, we were practicing pacelines and one of the mentors was repeatedly encouraging me to move up right on the wheel in front of me; I kept resisting, frustrating him.  All my brain could handle was just riding my bike around that course; feeling pushed to do more put me over the edge emotionally and I pulled out in protest, muttering "I can't do this."  After some moments riding solo and regaining some composure, I joined back up and continued the drill.  Each time I passed that spot, an image of crashing flashed across my mind; but, I noticed that the emotional aspect of it lessened and I was able to focus more on the drill.

My plan was to sit out the practice race; but I thought that, perhaps, I could at least go to the start line. And maybe I could just do one lap, and see how I felt.  Taking the pressure off myself to try to do well, or to even complete the race, allowed me the freedom to relax and just take it at my own pace.  I went one lap with the pack and realized, "I am okay."  I went another and decided I could keep going a few more. When I say "with the pack," I should really say "behind the pack."  I just hung on, not really even in the draft much, prompting frequent "Close the gap!" comments from the mentors.  Really, I was listening; but I just couldn't get in there.

As the weeks progressed, I had some moments where I broke off ahead of the pack. Most of the time I was consumed again; although, I came in 5th at one race.  But in my mind, breaking off was basically an escape, as if the pack behind me was a tsunami wave that might consume me if I were caught.  When the pack did catch me again, I would drop to the back and give up the fight.  I just was not comfortable.  And a couple crashes in those weeks seemed to prove my point. See? I was right to stay out of there.  On the other hand, I also remembered something I had forgotten: I really enjoyed this.  Although I had enjoyed the practice crits the year before, these feelings had been completely silenced by the louder memories of my crash.

Today, I arrived in Fremont after attending all of the clinics and practice races; still I felt uncertain about this, the official race.  I would continue with my "one lap at a time" motto and allow myself to quit if I felt really uncomfortable.  I knew, though, that I would want to complete the race.  We got to the start and I was relieved to see they would continue splitting our field into racers who had completed 10 or more and those who had completed fewer than 10 races.  The weather was similar to last year--sunny and warm--and I could have tossed my arm warmers.  I kept them on.

As we began the race, I noticed that I was much more comfortable, at least staying with the pack (well, most of the time).  I again took the position in the back, but at least stayed in the draft more than before.  I didn't go for any breaks; my main goal for the race was to become more comfortable pedaling through the corners with the pack, remembering how I used to feel doing that.  As the race wore on and as one mentor, aware of my corner anxiety by now, gave me helpful pointers, my confidence increased.  Why, if I was going the same speed and following the lines of other riders, would I be the one to go down?  I started to feel the road better, and to feel my anxiety a little less.  I stayed in the pack a little more at times, but just focused on being safe.  I found the advice to keep a broader view of the race, rather than to focus on the wheels just ahead of me, to be very helpful in anticipating the pack slowing and surging.  I can't say that I was totally comfortable, but I wasn't miserable either.

We approached the last lap, which was when I crashed last year.  The last lap can be dicey, when people are tired and positioning themselves for the final sprint.  I wasn't sure if I would try anything or just coast in.  I could see that some people were not going for it and I thought I might as well move up a little.  I gave it a good effort and crossed the line feeling happy and relaxed (well, and completely winded).  It was over and there was no repeat trip to the hospital.

Earlier in January, I had wanted Tara to take me to the point on the course where she had witnessed my crash; I was obsessed with going over every detail.  I thought that I still wanted to hear her perspective on that today.  As we were riding over, I thought, "I don't even really care about this anymore."  She gave me her feedback, but somehow, I just felt like the story was old and over, like a movie that had become boring after too much viewing.  I was done.

I still suspect it may take me time to get totally comfortable; but I think, now, that this is more a matter of me just becoming more skilled, rather than carrying a lot of fear from the crash.  I will definitely be very mindful and careful and will respect my intuition; I will continue to give myself the freedom to pull out of a race if it feels unsafe.  But I am really excited to feel free of this mental block that has been holding me back.  I didn't know whether doing this race would really make a difference; my sense today is that it has. I feel excited and happy to be opening the next chapter, to see what stories will unfold.