My ode to my year back in the heartland is hard to sum up into one experience. It’s been a weird year.
But yesterday, Nik and I went to Bruegger’s Bagels for lunch. After a bit of shenanigans trying to find the door from a steep downhill with majorly F-ed up sidewalks (typical of Omaha), we walked into the place having never been there before or knowing how it worked. Do we sit down? Order at a counter? Where is the counter? Are there seats or is this mostly a drive thru?
But this dude-bro kid who worked there had us covered. He greeted us when we walked in and directed us to the counter. He went over menu items with us and when Nik ordered coffee, he offered to make it behind the counter for him rather than having us make it ourselves at the coffee kiosk. He took Nik’s card, swung the point of sale thing around and tapped it himself. He offered to bring out our food to the table, and then when he did that, he offered to look and tell us which bagel was which. Instead of dealing with five or six minor struggles as blind folks in that place, it was chill.
“That was so Omaha,” I remarked.
“What do you mean?” Asked Nik, who has spent far less time here than I had.
I explained that that kid probably hasn’t had any particular training about blind people specifically. He was probably in high school. But he actually looked at us as people and thought for a couple of seconds about what we would have trouble doing in that setting and thought of quick solutions, communicated them, mostly by asking if this is what we would want, and then just did them if we agreed that it would be helpful, and didn’t if we said ‘No, thanks. We’ve got it.”
I’m not going to say that NEVER happens in Portland. It does sometimes. But it is not the norm. It doesn’t always happen in Omaha, either. But it is more the norm. The difference was really obvious. And also…it took me back to my life in the Midwest before. I had lived in the my first 27 years—half my life—in “The Heartland.” Iowa for 11 years, Kansas for about 4, and Nebraska for about 13 (now 14).
In fact, if I hadn’t come to Omaha this year, I would have crossed the threshold of having lived on the west coast longer than I lived in the Midwest. But alas, now I missed it and will have to wait another year before I hit it again. I did not notice the change in how I was treated as a disabled person in Portland as compared to here when I moved there at age 27. It took years before I could look back and see it. It isn’t like Portlanders are mean. Some are very nice and many have been very helpful. It is mor that they are unintentionally oblivious and keep to themselves. They don’t get too into your business. They largely don’t judge you. But there is kind of an “arms length” unwritten rule. It’s very live and let live. It was weird to think that I used to live with this amount of consideration all the time and never really thought about it.
It was also a great deal of comfort that when I basically crashed into Omaha with no notice, I had a myriad of extended family and high school friends—some of whom I hadn’t really spoken to much in 30 years—who were willing to step in and do just about anything to help. There is something to be said for having family close by, and I haven’t had much of that in Portland. Although there have been friends in Portland who have gone above and beyond at times when there have been emergency situations.
People talk about Nebraska as a red state, and a backwards state. And I will say that there is a bit of feeling like I’ve gone back in time here. For example, I have not been served take out in styrofoam containers since 1997. It’s also a bit weird to see plastic grocery bags. But its also nice to see that it doesn’t smell like weed everywhere and—although there is DRINKING here (ahem, no shortage of that)—there is not too many people who you are trying to deal with while they are stoned. (Full disclosure: I have seen a couple of people on the local buses who were kind of nodding out or doing the fentanyl fold. It’s not like it’s pristine here or anything. And there are homeless folks here, too. They are just better hidden. And there are a LOT of people who are not technically homeless but who are barely making it. The poverty here is pretty visible. Or maybe I’m just someone a lot of people who are upon tough times like to talk to.)
As far as the red state thing, well, Omaha is blue mostly. I did get to hang out with the Douglas County Dems a bit and was on their message group. I was limited in what I could do because I am not a registered democrat in Nebraska, but was able to help with voter registration a bit. When you are blue in a red state, there is more unity and more cooperation. My sister brought this up (she is a precinct leader in Kansas, also a red state with blue pockets.) In a predominately blue state like Oregon, there is not much to lose so then you get in-fighting over HOW blue you need to be and hair splitting commences. In Omaha, with the split electoral votes and the “blue dot” campaigns this year, there is a cohesiveness you don’t find as much in Oregon. They don’t have time for divisiveness. (And even though the overall election did not go as they had wanted, the Douglas County Dems did bring home that blue dot they worked so hard for. They did a good job.)
I’ve had the nagging feeling lately that I didn’t do enough here. Like I didn’t take full advantage of my time. I should have hung out with friends and family more. Traveled to my other Midwest spots like Lincoln and Lawrence, KS. Gone out to more neighborhood spots or I did spent an awful lot of time alone in my apartment reading books, listening to podcasts and watching movies. It may sound a bit sad, but it was mostly great. Yes, there were times I did get bored and I always knew that this was not real life and a person cannot go on forever like this, but as long as I kept it to just this little weird slice of my life in Omaha, I thought it was ok and mostly fabulous, actually. I came from a household, the last 2 decades, that had anywhere from 5-7 people living in it and 2-6 animals as well. It was never quiet. I was never alone. I think mostly it was a house full of joy and love, but there is something to be said for down time. Maybe Omaha was catch-up for the last 20 years.
But I started looking back at old pictures and sort of taking stock of what I have done in Omaha this year. It’s not a packed schedule every day, but it was a good amount of stuff. This might not be of interest to anyone but it helps me to sort of collect all of the experiences I’ve had here in one place. (No, I promise I won’t list every book or podcast I read-I read podcasts!—but there were some really interesting ones.)
- I flew here with about 4 hours notice and got a kidney transplant
- I got an apartment arranged right quick (the process was already started, but I had to make adjustments) so my poor husband and child did not have to spend a 20th day in a hotel.
- I went to the ER, had a blood clot, and spent a couple of nights in the ICU. (Dwight Lay and his cousin, Karen Guilfoyle kept me company on the phone while I was flat on my back and miserable.)
- Among all of that, I filled out my 2 college kids’ FAFSA, which last year was a flippin’ dumpster fire of a mess that took weeks. And, hey! I’ve already finished this year’s, which was much easier.
- I went in the hospital a few more times until they figured out why my kidney wasn’t working. I had to swap out oral meds for IV meds…for the rest of my life. I got a port.
- The one kid that got suddenly left at home quickly slid right off the rails and crashed to the ground and almost flunked out of high school. Myself (and a lot of other people) swooped in to help her do damage control and get more situated.
- I was able to visit my dad twice before he died in March.This was also with the help of a lot of people.
- My dad died. So there was that. There was also a complicated estate process, that my sister has been dealing with and is still not quite through. Even though I didn’t really bear the responsibility of it, the whole thing was stressful and maddening.
- I spent hours upon hours upon hours not only exercising and walking for my own recovery but working with my guide dog. Like, this was one of the predominate things I did every day. I did sit down exercises, I swam, I walked the halls, I walked miles outside and worked with that dog.
- I worked a lot to get my kid graduated from high school (yes, that kid) and worked with her on college applications, scholarships and financial aid, housing, graduation, orientation (although Nik actually went with her) and moving in (again, I helped organize, Nik did the physical work).
- I got my youngest kid into public high school and arranged all of his testing and stuff he needed to come into public school with no official records.
- I got the taxes done.
- I went to see Stevie Nicks and CHI Health Center, I went to the Henry Doorly Zoo, Lauritzen Gardens, Illuminarium Science Center, Jocelyn Art Museum, and walked the Heartland of America Park.
- I walked the Bob Kerry Pedestrian Bridge, went to the UP museum, General Dodge House, Rails West, the Brigant House, Omni Center, Bayliss Park and the 100s block in Council Bluffs. I also went to the courthouse and got my birth certificate and ate good BBQ there. I did drive by my childhood home as well.
- I got new skates and skated numerous times until the last couple of months.
- I had lunch with friends and relatives a handful of times and ate at several good and new to me restaurants.
- I visited Crescent, IA and my paternal grandparents homes and graves with Nik and my kid (who wanted to go there)
- I visited (at least walked around the outside of) my high school and elementary school, my Omaha childhood home, Zorinsky Lake, the Westroads and Regency Malls, the Taco Bell I used to work at, the Mutual of Omaha I used to work at, and other such places.
- I caught up on all my dental work which I was behind on. I have healthy teeth now.
- I did a fuck ton tremendous amount of blood tests, doctors appointments, infusion visits, minor procedures, MRIs, cancer screenings, Covid/flu tests and vaccines, etc. There was rarely a week that went by when I did not have a medical appointment.
- Although the bulk of this was Nik, I did occasionally help out with the business, consulting and signing off on client plans, getting paperwork together for taxes and bookkeeping, and helping when our main contractor moved on and we had to hurry up and hire new folks to replace him.
- I did a deep dive into trans issues. I read a ton. I would never reject my trans child no matter what, but it was important that I really understand all sides of the issue, medical implications, best practices, etc.
- I talked to my family nearly every day. I kept up with all of their goings on, new schools, new jobs, moving ins, having enough money, paperwork signed, etc.
- I organized and packed up (with Nik’s help packing) my move out and extraction from Omaha.
Starting in about early October, I started having some medical complications again. I was sick with a cough that wouldn’t go away. I had a UTI that was treated with antibiotics, I have an ongoing issue with an abdominal wall hernia around my kidney that I’m going to have to get surgery for. I had a bit of a cancer scare where I had to keep going back and do more mammograms and U/S and they came up questionable. (But that appears to be resolved for now.) So, I think I’m feeling like I haven’t done enough because I was on a good trajectory and then it kind of died off and went splat.
It was a bit depressing and I felt like I was kind of failing at everything I tried. (I did, in fact, visit Lincoln, but had to almost immediately turn around and come back due to health issues.) I had to cancel on family member’s invitations. I never did get to vote in Omaha, but did manage to vote via mail in Oregon. But the last few months especially have felt kind of gloomy. I had hopes that I’d come back healthier than I had been in a long time. But the honest truth is that right now I’m sicker than before transplant. It’s not like there was any other option, because I was headed nowhere but down without a transplant, but you always hope for the best outcome and have high expectations. I’ve had to adjust, and all my problems are coming home with me for further sorting into what can be mitigated and what has to be dealt with as a new reality. No super pigg for me…yet. You never know.
So, heading out of the big Omaha to go back to the Big Oregon is a needed change and push to just keep going. I haven’t seen one of my kids in 4 months, the other in 8 months, and the third (yes, that one) since December 21, 2023 at 2:00am when I waved at her in her upstairs bedroom window as I got into an Uber to go to the airport for my transplant.
I’m going home December 21, 2024.
I look forward to green trees and nature i can get to, quiet neighborhoods, being able to go on a bus or train every 15 minutes, Drivers who stop at stop lights and realize pedestrians exist. Christmas since I totally missed it last year, having the option to visit my kids in college or go to the coast or the mountains when I want, talking to my family for as long as I want and not on a little screen, just all that incidental stuff that happens in real life in families, and moving on with my life to its next chapter, even though this post transplant chapter will never be over.
But I am forever grateful to Omaha/Council Bluffs and all the people here. The University of Nebraska Medical Center and Lied Transplant Center. My donor, whomever they may be and their family for making the decision that allowed me a continued quality of life, whatever that may be. I’m still here and can figure out ways to be comfortable, kind to people, and maybe even contribute something. My friends and family who reached out even when I didn’t always reach back in any sort of timely manner. All the interesting weather. Freezing, snow, tornadoes, rain, heat, wind, more wind, humidity, big blue skies, and wide open spaces.
The Midwest has its issues, which makes it extremely difficult for me to return permanently, but it’s also just very good at heart. Do not even ever try to fuck with me about the flyover states and the corn and the red and the hickness and the flat boring plains and all that noise, cuz I might have to cut a bitch. The people of the plains—of which I am one—were here for me in ways the west coast never has been. They probably saved my life. It’s always home for me.
And with that, I and my new Midwest kidney bid my farewells to my childhood home. But I will be back.
Some pics from my time in Omaha:
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