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Cover image by Erick Seban-Meyer | See the whole photoshoot on page 18


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French Polynesia How To Do This Romantic Destination Right

When talking about the ultimate romantic honeymoon destinations, there are so many amazing ones that it’s truly difficult for the newlyweds to land on one. However, there is a certain undeniable allure in the destinations in French Polynesia that even the pickiest of the lovebirds won’t be immune to. After we’re done describing all the amazing honeymoon-y things that are available to you in these destinations, you will be completely hooked, so let’s do this romantic trip just right.

The Earth’s Masterpiece There’s no denying it, some places are simply more sublime than others. Bora Bora – one of the most coveted honeymoon destinations isn’t so coveted without a good reason. It truly is a heaven on earth, something you can’t even believe is on this planet. You can simply feel the calling of the talcum-like beaches, the almost impossibly clear water, and incredible coral reefs. So what to do here in

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order to have the ultimate romantic experience? Well, first of all, make sure you book the most romantic accommodation available.

There are tons of absolutely lovely ones, but newlyweds want their privacy, which is what makes The Four Seasons the best possible choice, especially if you go for your own private bungalow. You get your own terrace, where you can have romantic breakfasts and watch the sunset, and even take a dip in your very own private pool. Aside from sipping cocktails and almost never leaving the bedroom, there are tons of memorable things you can do such as kite surfing, romantic strolls, and of course, sipping cocktails on the beach while enjoying one of the most majestic sunsets. What more could two lovebirds want?Â

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The Largest Island Tahiti is the largest island in French Polynesia, and also the home of French Polynesia’s capital, Papeete. This means that it has a great deal to offer, and you’re about to be dazzled with our honeymooning suggestions. Now, the first thing to do is to look into the best and most convenient Tahiti flights, so your journey can begin on ‘the right foot’. Once you have landed in your dream honeymoon destination, the island is virtually your oyster. At most resorts, you’ll be greeted with their signature welcome ‘package’ – a glass of pineapple juice, a fragrant tiare or flower garland, and a cool towel. Since Tahiti is the most ‘French’ of all the islands, you’ll definitely feel the Parisian romantic vibe. Everyone around you speaks French, and there is a plethora of fine wines you can enjoy any time of the day – after all, you’re on your honeymoon.

The Tahiti Pearl Beach Resort is your ultimate choice of accommodation, and not only because it offers a spectacular honeymoon experience. Incredible and modern ocean view rooms will make you want to never leave the room. However, if you’re an adventurous couple, you will certainly want to engage in such activities as surfing which is Tahiti’s signature sport. Now, since you’ll be in the capital, you can mingle with the locals, pick up some of that romantic French, and definitely enjoy the incredible cuisine that will make you feel like you’re in Paris.

The Ultimate Privacy Finally, if what you crave is the ultimate private and secluded honeymoon experience, Tikehau is definitely your cup of tea. From the airport, you’ll be whisked away to your resort via a boat ride, which is incredibly cute.

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You can choose between the traditional Pearl Beach Resort or go for something more ‘rustic’ and ‘island-y’ as the Ninamu Resort Tikehau, which truly offers a one-of-a-kind experience. The hand-crafted bungalows are snug, romantically lit, and just, oh, perfect for two people who just tied the knot. It’s not a luxurious resort, but its charm compensates for the lack of luxury. You’ll fall in love with your little love nook as soon as you step foot inside it. As for what to do during your honeymoon, aside from taking full advantage of your secluded and ultra-romantic bungalow, sublime pale-pink beaches await, and so does the ocean, so veg out and simply enjoy each other’s company.


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If you do want to do something unique, there is always the excursion to Motu Puarua – an island inhabited only by thousands of different species of birds. However, since this is a small and secluded island with a very small population, if you’re not keen on bird watching, just snuggle up, swim, sunbathe, and enjoy what visitors claim to be the best cuisine in all of French Polynesia, at your very own Ninamu resort. Ninamu also offers such activities as paddle boarding, kayaking, kite surfing, windsurfing, sailing, snorkeling, so if the two of you have an adventurous side and want to do more than just typical honeymoon stuff, your little resort has got you covered.

The different colored sands, the flora and fauna, the crystal electric blue waters, what more could a person want for a p e r f e c t honeymoon?

Each of these islands

has

something unique to offer, so just close your eyes, point your finger, and enjoy wherever you land. Not a single island will disappoint you, that is for sure.

BY MARIE NIEVES

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Photo by Ian Howard


Photo by Fred Otis Maples


Photo by Eva Fydrych

Director of Photography: Ian Howard / FASHION AND BEAUTY Makeup: Lapis Lazuli Visages Model: Sophia Sinclair Styling: Eva Fydrych / Fashion Studio Magazine Assistant Photographer: F. Maples Photography Location: Pestana Chelsea Bridge Hotel & Spa, London, UK Handbags: Pamir Fashion / www.pamirfashion.com

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Photo by Eva Fydrych


Photo by Ian Howard


Photo by Ian Howard


Photo by Ian Howard


Photo by Eva Fydrych


Photo by Fred Otis Maples


Photography: Erick Seban-Meyer

Model: Valquiria Mendes Art Direction: Claudine Anidjar Location: Paris, France Clothes: KaaaKollection | Paris Jewellery: SARATHEO | Paris


Dress by KaaaKollection | Paris


Jewellery by SARATHEO | Paris


Dress by KaaaKollection | Paris


Jewellery by SARATHEO | Paris


Dress by KaaaKollection | Paris


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Travel Trends for 2019 Whenever we hear the classic pop hit Been around the world and I, I, I, I can’t find my baby, we sing our hearts out. But how much do we actually relate to this song? Have we really been around the world? Not many people can answer with a “yes”, but most of us definitely have this as a goal for the future. This is why planning our trips for the following year is extremely important – not only will we manage to get the lowest prices on the plane tickets and the accommodation, but we will have plenty of time to think about our budget and all the activities that we will immerse into once there. Some destinations seem to be much more popular than others, and if you really want to follow the travel trends of the following year, these are the things that you need to have in mind:

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Going Solo If you’re generally tired of people or have nobody who wants to visit the destination you’re after, you can always consider traveling solo. Unlike in past years, this trend is becoming more and more popular nowadays, both for guys and girls. If you choose this option, you really have to think carefully about the destination that you want to check out, as not every country is safe, especially if you want to wander around by yourself and explore the surroundings.

There are many guides online on how to travel solo, especially if you’re a girl and most of them agree that you need to make certain contacts with the people who are traveling with you on the plane or are accommodated at the same hotel, and that you always have the most important documents with you. It’s definitely not easy to travel by yourself, but, on the other hand, it’s very healthy to be selfish at times and actually do the things that you really want. If that means traveling alone and exploring your most wanted destinations, so be it.

Exploring New Destinations In the last couple of years, we tried to explore all the distant and rarely visited places that hadn’t been so popular with tourists in the previous decade. After hanging out with animals in the heart of Africa and seeing the Aurora Borealis in Iceland, it’s time to focus on something new. So perhaps, this time, it’s time to go to Asia.

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One of the destinations that has gained a lot of popularity recently is Vietnam, so choosing this country as your 2019 big destination is a great idea. Vietnam has so many things to offer and each corner is completely different. After landing in the capital of Vietnam, Hanoi, and spending a couple of days there, you can opt for a Dalat solo travel and explore all the mesmerizing hills, pine forests, lakes and waterfalls. Since it’s very difficult to fight the urge to see every corner of the Lam Dong Province, opting for a Dalat motorbike rental is a great way to explore even further. Not only will you witness some of the most beautiful landscapes but you will also be in love with all the things to do in Dalat!

All on Instagram Even though this has been a trend for some time now, it seems that 2019 will see even more of our travels on Instagram.

If you choose to see Vietnam, for example, make sure to bring your power bank with you as you will take photos of practically everything – there is a risk of losing a couple of followers due to spamming, but if you play your cards right and learn how to edit photos in the best possible way, you can become a great travel blog influencer.

This is why Instagram is one of the biggest travel trends of 2019, but make sure to know all of the best apps that you have to use.

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TV Travel It’s very fascinating how the cinema and TV can encourage us to go and travel to a new destination. After Game of Thrones, the tourism in Croatia reached its peak, while all the fans of the TV show Outlander purchased their tickets to see Inverness in Scotland. Scotland, for example, even has an Outlander tour that will take all the tourists to the most important landscapes and castles featured in the TV show. This means that if you’re in love with a certain destination from your favorite TV show, now is the time to visit it!

Traveling is always great, regardless of the destination or the people you travel with. However, if you really want to be i n fl u e n t i a l a n d experience something new and modern, then bearing in mind these trends is very much advisable. Have a great trip!

BY CLAIRE HASTINGS

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Valentim Quaresma

Š ModaLisboa | Photo: Ugo Camera


TRAVELLING IN STYLE By Eva Fydrych

LISBON, PORTUGAL - Let’s have a look at the most colourful and futuristic looks from the recent edition of ModaLisboa | Lisboa Fashion Week. Inspiring and thought-provoking, Fall/Winter 2019 season proved that Portuguese fashion is getting its own identity and is going in the right direction. The collections shown on the catwalk were very innovative and versatile. While some designers sticked to classic colour palette and more traditional shapes, others were happy to experiment with oversized silhouettes and unconventional details.

João Magalhães

Olga Noronha © ModaLisboa | Photo: Dulce Daniel

© ModaLisboa | Photo: Ugo Camera

________________________________________________________________________________ "Welcome to ModaLisboa INSIGHT. More than an invitation, a call to rethink, understand and interpret fashion together; through the fashion makers in a fast paced world where reality is hard to define." - Eduarda Abbondanza, President of ModaLisboa Association ________________________________________________________________________________


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Dino Alves

© ModaLisboa | Photo: Ugo Camera


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Carlos Gil

© ModaLisboa | Photo: Ugo Camera


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Awaytomars

© ModaLisboa | Photo: Ugo Camera


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Dino Alves

© ModaLisboa | Photo: Ugo Camera


Valentim Quaresma

Š ModaLisboa | Photo: Ugo Camera


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From Nowhere “Never stop believing in miracles”

I woke up looking down the hill. It was so peaceful. There was a tree to my right and farther down the hill, a soft light. I thought I might lay there forever. I think this was the first time I almost died that night. A car went by; it seemed out of place. I heard a noise to my left and turned my gaze toward it. My car was laying on its side. The exhaust pipe was smoking and making that ticking sound that exhaust pipes do when they are cooling off. I turned my gaze back to the light. Another car went by. I screamed. I realized something terrible had happened and I didn’t belong there.

I became aware of a shadowy figure to my left. This shadowy figure said he heard the crash and called the cops. He told me to hang on. I felt excruciating pain in my right shoulder. My arm was wedged behind my back and I begged him to move it to the front. He finally did. Everything started to move in slow motion. The scenes reminded me of an old projector film where the frames ticked, ticked, ticked by. The scenes of my life going by. Shadow man, the sheriff, the cop, a siren in the background, the ambulance, the paramedics. I got my first shot for pain. Darkness.

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I woke up in the emergency room as they were stitching a large cut on the back of my head. I cried out. Darkness. Faces. Many faces. Looking down on me. I became aware of a large group of people moving me from one bed to another. It hurt. Everything hurt. Please make the pain stop. Another shot for pain. Darkness. Faces. X-rays. Pain. Over and over.

I finally awoke to a form of consciousness. I became aware of my surroundings. I was in a room. Someone was telling me I was involved in a car accident and was in the hospital. It felt like a dream. They were taking me to the x-ray department. Again, more x-rays. The x-ray tabletop moved sideways.

They

attempted to slide me on while the tabletop slid under me. It didn’t work that well, but they were All artwork by Michael P. McArdle

trying not to lift me because of all the

Broken bones, plural. I had never broken a bone before. Now I had multiple broken bones. I was frightened. Broken bones, broken. They returned me to my room and told me to rest. Flashes of family. Shots of morphine. Darkness.

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TRAVELLING IN STYLE Remembering… I was prepping for the end of my second shift job when Jim, the guy who rides with me asked, "Do you want to stop and have a couple drinks after work?” I agreed. I wish I wouldn’t have.

Flashes of life. People looking down at me. The sliding table. More x-rays. More shots of morphine. Darkness.

I am in my room again. I think it’s nighttime. Scenes of life replace the flashes of life. The chaos of nurses was gone. I can’t breathe very well. Where are the nurses? Call light. “Nurse, I can't breathe.” She said, "You've had a lot going on today but you are okay.” The lights and numbers on the monitors said she was telling the truth. “Nurse, I can't breathe!" “Just try to relax now,” she said, and left the room. Try to relax? It is hard to relax when you can’t breathe. I wish darkness would come. I still can’t breathe. Call light. When the nurse comes in, I grab her hand and say, “Please help me, I cannot breathe.” I must have gotten through to her because I was moved to the Intensive Care Unit to be monitored more closely. More morphine. Darkness.

Now I am standing, looking down a long, dark hallway. Way down the hall is a doorway. There is a sliver of bright light in the top corner of the door. I start walking toward it; the light is blinding. I enter. The room is bathed in bright light. I see a small, old man in a topcoat and hat. When I look at him he says, "Go back, we don’t need you until you are as old as your grandfather." That was the second time I almost died that day.

Remembering… I had dropped Jim off and decided to go for a cruise. A 70's thing that entailed driving around after a social event and listening to loud music. I went the long way and five miles from home, I fell asleep. I woke up as my car was sliding toward a hill. My car made impact and rolled up the hill. I wasn’t wearing a seat belt and I flew out as my car rolled over. I wasn’t aware of anything after sliding toward the hill. I do not want to remember that part.

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After a couple days, I was able to stay awake long enough to hear and understand the extent of my injuries. I had dislocated my hip and broken my pelvis. My shoulder was broken in four places and I had 13 breaks in my rib cage. All my internal organs were bruised, as was my heart. I also had a punctured lung, which may have come from moving me around on the x-ray table. No one ever said.

I spent two months in the hospital. The first month was to allow my internal organs to heal. The second month I wore a full body cast. I’ve always thought the medical staff spent the first month evaluating if I was going to live or die. Once I was in the body cast, life became a routine for four weeks. I had two positions: on my back or on my stomach. It took five nurses to lift me and roll me over. The body cast had a cutout for bathroom duties and I needed a nurse to assist me with those.

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Every "teaching class" that came through the hospital came into my room. More faces looking at the guy in the strange cast. Most of the faces that came into my room wore looks of disbelief and shock. I usually looked at the ceiling, unwilling to look anyone in the eye. Guilt.

When I got out of the hospital, I could walk with crutches. After a few weeks, I could walk without them. I had lost 25 percent of the movement in my left leg, which caused a very noticeable limp. My right shoulder was destroyed in the accident and I could never throw a baseball or football again. Ever. Broken. Depression. Anger. Anger became my go-to reaction to anything negative. Anger was my answer to everything. Anger was my friend.

The country was in the midst of a damaged economy from the 1973 Oil Embargo. Jobs disappeared. The day I got permission to return to work, my employer laid me off. I stayed in Wisconsin for a year, hoping things would change. It didn't happen. I decided to move to Colorado where the Rocky Mountains became a source of entertainment as I joined an off-road vehicle club. This is where I learned to love mountains. The state’s population was exploding. I got involved in home construction and thought it would never end. I was wrong, as the recession of 1979 halted all construction. I was out of work once again.

I read a newspaper story about an oil boom going on in Wyoming. I had a truck and camper, so I headed there to find work. It’s hard to explain what it is like arriving in a town with an oil boom happening. Enterprise was going on everywhere. Trucks, equipment dust and dirt; a flurry of constant motion. This was Evanston, WY, in April, 1980. TIME magazine featured an article that year about the exploding growth of oil activity in the American West, naming Evanston, “Boomtown, USA.” The city’s population doubled from 1970’s census, mostly due to people working in its oil industry. Imagine dropping about 10,000 more people into this population and you can start to understand the ensuing chaos. There were jobs for many more people than current housing could provide. This is the scene that I landed in the middle of. I was immediately hired by a construction company. I had a truck and camper, but no legal place to live.

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I drove around north of town and saw a parking lot where a few nice campers were parked. I stopped and knocked on a camper door to get more information. A young woman answered. When I asked who I should talk to, she said, “We just park here, we didn’t talk to anyone.” I didn’t have a better solution, so I parked there, too. All was fine for a few days. Upon returning from town one day I noticed new signs had been posted: Railroad Property | No Trespassing | $1000.00 Fine

I asked my new camper friend about the signs. She said a sheriff put them up, but made no attempt to talk to her. He just drove away. It seemed clear the only thing to do was leave. I took a quick drive around to look for something better before I hooked the camper to the truck. I drove down Highway 89 to a gravel road where I’d noticed a lot of traffic. I reached a wide turnout and saw approximately 20 campers parked there. I stopped to talk to someone, found a place next to a VW bus with Colorado plates, staked my claim on the spot, and went to get my camper.

It probably sounds strange, but we were a community. We all had jobs, just no place to live. Most of us had campers or vehicles, but on a nearby hill, people were sleeping in tents or other ramshackle housing, crudely constructed to allow for sleeping only. We lit campfires at night. We talked about our lives, about who we were, the goals we were working toward. A constant stream of traffic passed by on the road next to camp, They were mainly oilfield workers. Sometimes, cars filled with belligerent people from town drove by, shouting things like “Squatters!” or “Go home!” or other unprintable things. Occasionally someone would stop and try to bully us, but we stuck together and the incidents never got out of control.

One day I was reading in my camper when I heard several car doors slam shut. Seconds later, there was a loud rapping on my door. I answered and was surprised to see a police officer in full riot gear. He said, “You’ve been here long enough, now get out! If you don’t leave right now you’ll go to jail.” I stepped outside and saw at least 20 officers dressed identically. To this day, I have mixed emotions about what happened. I wasn’t a criminal. None of us were. We were just living there because we had nowhere else to go. We had jobs, we all bought gas and groceries and other things to help the local economy, but instead of trying to help us with housing, we were treated like we were taking something instead.

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I packed everything up, said goodbye to my friends and headed for Utah, where I secured my first legitimate housing. It was the start of another adventure.

In Utah, I found my career. It was six years after my car accident and I was working in the oil business, the very industry that made me leave Wisconsin. I worked on a drill rig searching for oil. The drill rigs were mounted on trucks. We drilled 200-foot-deep boreholes and loaded them with dynamite. It was rugged country, requiring four-wheeldrive

vehicles

and

helicopters. Riding in helicopters and driving on 4 x 4 roads with big trucks became my thing. We were called "doodlebuggers." I loved my job.

By 1984, the price of oil had dropped too low and I was out of work again. I had been gone for a little over nine years and decided I needed my family again, so I returned to Wisconsin. I started a job at a civil engineering company in Sheboygan. The owner told everyone I was a little "rough around the edges." It was true. I had limited social skills to deal with group situations, but I felt this could be a place to finally set down permanent roots. My coworker and his wife set me up on a blind date. Karen and I were married in July, 1988.

Four years later, I had my hip replaced due to my car accident. According to three doctors I saw, I was too young for this. But for an entire year before, I was in complete misery. I couldn’t stand or sit without pain.

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There is a thing about pain; anyone who suffers from it knows and understands what I mean. It can control all your thoughts and actions. You cannot get away from it. It’s always there. It starts to affect your mood. It’s hard to be happy.

I had a new ball-and-socket hip put in. It had mesh on it, designed to actually grow to the bone. I could not put weight on it for six weeks. I followed all the rules, and on the day I was told I didn’t have to use the crutches any longer, I went home and rototilled my garden. Everyone thought I was crazy, but I was pain-free.

Soon after, Karen and I started a drilling business. We did all the right steps, attended classes and wrote a business plan. Through perseverance and hard work, we made the business work for 24 years.

My knee started bothering me in 2011. Another car-accident-related injury had come back to haunt me. It had either twisted slightly while in the full-body cast, or had been damaged in some way during the accident. X-rays showed it was bone-on-bone. It ached often. Everything I knew about knee replacements told me I would have to take at least three months off work. I thought about our livelihood and wondered how our business would survive with me not working for 90 days. In 2015, I was the only one trained to run the drill rig, so when I decided to have my knee replaced in April, I put my business on hold to concentrate on my rehabilitation.

My doctor, who did my hip replacement 23 years before, always said that when I was ready for surgery, I would know. When I told him I was ready, he looked at his schedule, looked back at me and said, “You're on the books for two weeks from today.” I thought, "TWO WEEKS, oh, my God!”

I walked out of his office in a daze. I was given a three-ring binder of information and set up with appointments for various things, including a class I would have to attend with other victims - I mean, patients, of course. We would have a meeting before surgery and a luncheon after completing the entire process 90 days later. I will say, when you make a decision like this some trepidation is always there. I knew it was time. I was ready to have this pain behind me. However, it is a surgery, and it happens in a hospital.

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TRAVELLING IN STYLE Hospitals. Pain. Narcotics. Faces. Darkness.

I interviewed people who’d had successful knee replacements. A friend and fellow businessperson had a knee replacement the year before. We are similar, both big guys. He had a great experience with his replacement and told me to push physical therapy for all it’s worth. He said that for him, it was like having a personal trainer working just for him. If the trainer/therapist told him to do 10 exercises, he did 15. He said, “You need to buy in to your physical therapist, 150 percent.”

We talked a couple times. The last time, I told him I was ready and didn’t think the pain of replacement would be that bad. I even said I didn’t expect any pain at all. I will never forget our eyes meeting as I said that. He had an ominous warning: “Oh, you'll have pain all right, you'll have pain.” He was right. The day of surgery, I had to be at the hospital at 6:00 a.m. My surgery was at 7:30 a.m. After the anesthesiologist prepped me, I counted backwards from 100. Faces looking down at me.

As I slowly woke from surgery, I became aware of people talking in the background. All conversations were about me waking up and coming out of it. It’s a dream-like state to be in, a familiar friend. Faces. Memories.

I was awake, but had cobwebs in my head. I was taken to my room and told that soon, someone would come in to help me stand. I was sure they couldn’t be talking to me. I did not feel like standing up. Lying right there in bed was just fine with me. I was in my room for about an hour when a physical therapist came in. I stood, got out of bed, and took a few steps. Later that day, I got up and climbed stairs. To this day, I don’t remember much of it. Flashes of life. The first day was a dream.

The second morning, my doctor came into the room. He told me the 24-hour nerve block would begin to wear off and I would start feeling pain. “As soon as the pain starts, the nurses will give you pain medication,” he said.

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On a scale of one to 10, at 1:00, my pain was a “one” and I received Vicodin. At two o’clock, the pain was a “two”. At three o’clock, it was a “three”. At four o’clock it was a “four”, so they switched me to Percocet because some people do better taking this. It did feel stronger, but it did not stop the pain. As the clock made its way around that day, my pain increased with it.

At some point, a decision was made to administer narcotics into my intravenous line to help with the pain. It didn’t. By 11:00 I was reduced to crying. The nurse had just left the room after administering another dose of Percocet. It hadn’t even touched the pain.

After the nurse left, Karen said, “Let’s have a look at your knee.” She threw the blankets to the side and we were shocked by all the blood. My surgical drain had failed. The blood was pooled inside my knee, bleeding though my bandage onto the sheet between my legs. My knee was the size of a small watermelon. I hit the call light. They removed the drain, re-dressed my knee and gave me more pain meds. Darkness.

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The next morning, I was awakened at 6:30 a.m. by the pill lady. Everything stays on schedule in a hospital, even if you feel like you could sleep longer. Soon, a physical therapist came in my room. She helped me out of bed and down the hall we went. I walked the entire length of the hospital wing and back. Everyone was impressed, including me. Mostly I did it because I thought they would put me back in my bed so I could get some sleep.

Right after my big walk, the head nurse of the floor came in. She said, “Anyone who can walk the entire hall and back is well enough to go home. Wouldn't you rather be at home than in this hospital?” No, not really, I thought. Nevertheless, at nine o’clock in the evening on the third day, I left the hospital. I signed my exit papers and received training on how to get into and out of a vehicle. We headed home, wondering how in the hell we’d been talked into leaving.

In the informational packet from the hospital was a paper with bullet-point warnings on it. The third one said, "You may suffer from depression as a result of your surgery.” I would soon learn that I had depression when I left the hospital and that it was going to get much worse before it got better. It was April 11, 2015.

No matter how prepared you think you are for coming home after a total knee replacement, you won’t be ready. We had obtained a used hospital bed with all the electric controls and placed it in the living room. The bed did everything but sing you to sleep. I would learn to hate that bed.

I don’t know why, but my feet were always freezing. Nothing on your body works. All the little plumbing parts that you were given at birth are useless because they don’t want to work. Therefore, you take drugs to make them work, but mostly they just compound the weird feelings in your body. I had to give myself blood-thinning shots with a needle every day for the first 20 days. I never really liked needles all that much and still don’t. Pain pills. There are two kinds of people who have knee replacements: the kind who throw their pain pills away and say, “I don’t need these!” and the kind, like me, who know to the second when it is time to take the next dose. It isn’t because I enjoyed the buzz from the pills. It is because of the pain. Actually, PAIN would be a better description. Try it again:

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TRAVELLING IN STYLE P A I N!!! I remembered my friend warning me. "Oh, you will have pain.” He was so right.

My wife was great. She did everything she could to keep things positive. The smallest things seem like the biggest victories. New ice bags on my knee and fresh water in my glass. You never know how many times you can actually drop something until you are unable to pick it up yourself.

LAUREN Five days after surgery, I met Lauren, my physical therapist, for the first session. It was hard to get into the car and I hated riding even more. I was miserable. I could walk a few steps with a walker, but not all the way from the car to the therapy room. So I rode in a wheelchair, stopping before a long, black padded table. Lauren told me to get on the table and slide back to the wall.

I looked around for the help I was expecting and received none. I knew the table was adjustable. It was high from the ground and I wondered why she set it so high. I began to get angry, but managed to sit up on the table. After some squirming around, I slid all the way back. I sat there for a minute, looked at Lauren, and figured it out: She was testing me. In that instant, I knew I was going to like her. I could respect her methods.

There is a truth about knee replacements for almost everyone: It is one of the most painful things one will ever go through. People find out what they are made of during the recovery process. No one can do it for you, and if you want to feel better than you did before the surgery, you must push through the pain to get the movement back in your joint. If your progress stops, you may have to go back to surgery. That’s the last thing I wanted.

DEPRESSION I’m not sure when the exact moment came when I realized I was depressed. I think the narcotics and the pain in the hospital were the first triggers to bring back the memory of my car accident 41 years earlier. At first, I kept the memories to myself. I was sad. The paper from the hospital said I could be depressed, and I was. Everything was right on schedule.

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Depression is like a second skin that you wear over the top of your other skin. It covers you from head to toe. It’s very heavy, but invisible. If you choose to let others see it, they can, but if you choose to keep it invisible, you can do that, too. In the beginning, I chose to keep it invisible.

My knee was still the size of a watermelon from the incident in the hospital. I couldn’t bend it very well and wouldn’t until the swelling was gone. I fell behind the other patients, but Lauren kept encouraging me. She never said anything negative. I don’t know what she wrote on all the patient notes she was always filling out. She was definitely a positive life force, and I needed that. By the fourth week of rehabilitation, I could finally concentrate on really pushing the exercises. Getting my knee to bend more and straighten out by manual manipulation during physical therapy sessions was extremely painful. To accomplish this task, it takes lots of physical strength by the therapist.

As a rehab patient, your orders are simple: Take your narcotic pain medication one hour before your appointment. I forgot once; never forgot a second time. I was finally able to sleep in my own bed. I was very happy when family members moved the hospital bed outside. I didn’t want to see it again.

The next week I struggled while walking. I was limping. I didn’t feel very strong yet, but that was about to change. The sixth week, I accepted an invitation to go turkey hunting at a friend’s property about 100 miles away. It would be my longest car ride since the surgery. It was still uncomfortable sitting in a car. My leg bent just enough to get in. It would also be my first time staying overnight at someone else’s house.

My friend had set up a tent for me. I put all my extra camouflage clothes on and walked through the woods to my tent. I had to carry a shotgun so I couldn’t use a cane to help with the walk. The forest floor was thick with sticks, leaves and pine needles. It was slow going, and once I almost tripped when a stick caught between my legs. I teetered in slow motion, thought I was going to tip over, but somehow regained my balance. It was a close one! All was good. I got to my tent and sat there, alone with my thoughts for the next two hours. I didn’t care if I saw a bird or not. I never really do. I just enjoyed soaking up Mother Nature. I almost felt free, except for the nagging pain in my knee. No pain killers though, until the gun was put away for the day.

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In the seventh week, I made remarkable strides. I’d been walking on grass trails at my home all through my recovery. I was feeling strong and decided to start running. I didn’t run far, but this was a defining moment in my recovery. I went home and Googled “running after a knee replacement.” I saw "Don’t run until week nine.” Oops! Something about the glue drying properly. All right, I won’t try that again for at least two more weeks! During that time, I began to set certain goals in my recovery. I’d started my business again, and work required me to kneel every 15 minutes for about 30 to 60 seconds. I asked Lauren, who didn’t advise it. She didn’t say yes, but she didn’t say no, either. I dropped it for that day, but I asked each time.

I began to rely on Lauren as my personal trainer. I viewed her as my coach and called her that. She was always positive about everything surrounding my recovery. I was getting close to the last day of physical therapy, which added to my overall sadness. Lauren will always mean something to me that is difficult to explain. She fixed me. I wasn’t broken any longer, at least not physically. She convinced me I could do anything if I tried.

With her guidance and dedication to my recovery, I could now walk without limping, something I’d been unable to do for 41 years. I could walk backwards almost as well as I could walk forward. I could kneel down and get back up without hands to help me. I could run if I wanted to. I was a new person.

My last day of therapy still ranks as one of the saddest days I have ever experienced. People are put in your life to help you get from point A to point B. After that, you are on your own. It took me a long time to accept that.

ICE AGE A few weeks after therapy ended, family came for a visit. We decided to go for a hike on the Ice Age trail.

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The Ice Age Trail is a designated National Scenic Trail located entirely in the state of Wisconsin. It roughly follows the advance of the last period of glaciation in Wisconsin. It’s approximately 1,150 miles long, with 680 miles completed on public and private land through easements. There is an ongoing effort by the Ice Age Trail Alliance to secure more land to complete the trail. It is supported

by

a

volunteer staff who maintain and build more trail. I

have

lived

in

Sheboygan County for 28 years and I had never been on the trail.

We

picked

the

Greenbush segment of the trail. We hiked about two miles out and two miles back. I loved it. It was rugged, with lots of cobbles and steep hills. The next day I hiked the

All artwork by Michael P. McArdle

same trail with my sister.

After that, I hiked every day I had the chance. There are approximately 35 miles of Ice Age trail in Sheboygan County and I decided to hike all of them.

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Physically, I was getting stronger every day. Emotionally, I was still on a downward slope. While hiking, I started to think about what was bothering me. I began to peel back the layers of memories from so long ago.

After my car accident, I became withdrawn. I was 21 years old. I had lost 25% of the movement in my left leg, left with a severe limp that was noticeable immediately. My right shoulder was broken in four places. I could never throw a baseball or football again. My friends would get together to play baseball and touch football. I couldn’t participate. I came and watched at first, but eventually I quit going. My self-confidence was destroyed. I didn’t care about anything anymore. I became a loner.

As I hiked, I kept peeling back the layers of my life. Over and over, I reviewed and recalled events that happened many years before. Some were unpleasant memories, but others were memories of who and what I wanted to be as a young man.

I have a theory about hiking the trail: When you are hiking the easy parts of the trail, you can review what is going on in your life. However, hiking the difficult parts - the steep hills, the cobbles, the tree roots - takes all of one’s concentration. This is where you heal.

One day as I was hiking something occurred to me, something I hadn’t thought of before, such a simple thing: I had never forgiven myself for the car accident. The forgiveness was not just for my accident but afterwards, when I hated myself and got so low that I did not think life was worth living. That guilt carried a lot of weight. After that day I felt lighter. Things began to get better. I was still hiking in December and according to my Fitbit, I had hiked about 500 miles, 400 of which came on the Ice Age Trail. I had come to depend on the trail like an old friend, so when winter snow limited my hiking, I was left with time on my hands.

One day I looked at my photos from the trail. I wondered what I could do with them and remembered the paint set and canvas tablet Karen had given me for my birthday a few years earlier. Occasionally she asked when I was going to try painting. I would reply, “I’ll get to it someday.”

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ARTIST That someday finally came. I started to paint the scenes of the Ice Age Trail from my photographs. It was another life-changing moment. Being an artist is now my passion.

My first painting was from an area I call the Cathedral Pines of the Greenbush segment of the Ice Age Trail. After I finished, I painted another, and then another. Six months later when the Ice Age Trail Alliance requested photos from the trail, I decided to send photos of my paintings and the corresponding picture to see if they had any interest. They did. Two of my paintings are published in the current edition of the Ice Age Trail guidebook.

I joined the Sheboygan Visual Artists, where I display my art in a gallery setting. Through SVA I have met many talented and amazing people who have become great friends. I’ve shown art in many cities around Wisconsin, including Fond du Lac, where my car accident happened. I am Artist in Residence at Cassy Tully - Fine Art in the Historic Third Ward, Milwaukee. Her encouragement and guidance have given me access to the vibrant art community found there.

This experience has taught me to never give up. Never grow old in your thoughts. And that no matter who you are or what you are going through, never stop believing in miracles, because they arrive in the most unexpected ways. I never thought, at my age, that I’d be a painter, showing my work in galleries, or being an artist in residence. It took going through all the hardships for me to embrace this and fully appreciate the gift I have been given. I hike because it helps me heal; I paint because it gives me inspiration and purpose. If you want something, take the first step toward it. Then keep going. If I can do it, you can, too.

BY MICHAEL P. MCARDLE _________________________________________________________________________

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Mike McArdle is a Wisconsin-based, self-taught acrylic artist whose passion for photography inspires his paintings, many of which are conceived from his walks along nature trails. When he was young, he wanted to become a journalist; a serious car accident sidelined that goal, resulting in a severe limp and decades of pain. After two surgeries, he was able to walk without limping and sought nature and hiking as a means to heal. At age 62, with the belief that it's never too late, Mike picked up an artist's brush for the first time and began painting the beauty he captured in photographs of nature and the world around him. http://artbymikem.com ________________________________________________________________________________

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Photo by Eva Fydrych / Fashion Studio Magazine


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INTERMODA 70 Celebrating 35 Years of Fashion & Business

GUADALAJARA, JALISCO - Last January, Fashion Studio Magazine had an amazing opportunity to travel to Mexico and take part in one of the biggest fashion trade shows in Latin America, INTERMODA.


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Taking place from 15-18 January 2019 at the Expo Guadalajara, the event celebrated 35th anniversary this year (70 editions so far!) and featured an impressive array of exhibitors, events, fashion talks, seminars, and runway shows. Some of the highlights of Intermoda 70 included inaugural catwalk show by Jesús de la Garsa, WGSN trend seminar by Rosalina Villanueva,  and the impressive Anniversary Gala which took place at Instituto Cultural Cabañas. Below, you can find our selection of the most memorable runway looks (including Ignazio Spinoza, Jesús de la Garsa, Galvanhe, Claudia Saldaña / Fioriology, De Loi, Nayibi México, LM Love M, Gracia, Universidad LANSPIAC, Mulek, Pêche, LC Design's Collection, Julia y Renata, Suiteveintiuno, and BILLA BONG) and get familiar with the hottest fashion trends for the next season.

Pêche

IGNAZIO SPINOZA

Jesús de la Garsa

IGNAZIO SPINOZA


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Many designers showcased very feminine looks which featured floor-sweeping maxi dresses, off-the-shoulder tops, eye-catching accessories, bright floral and tropical prints, classic black & white as well as very vivid palettes with unexpected colour combinations. Enjoy the pictures! TOP TRENDS: metallics, ruffles, pleats, statement earrings, hats, bright red, fuchsia, white, florals, calf length skirts, maxi dresses, gold trousers, shorts, asymmetry.

De Loi (above); MULEK (right)

BY EVA FYDRYCH


Profile for Fashion Studio Magazine

Travelling In Style - April 2019  

Welcome to the second issue of Travelling In Style, a special publication by Fashion Studio Magazine, featuring travel, lifestyle, and fashi...

Travelling In Style - April 2019  

Welcome to the second issue of Travelling In Style, a special publication by Fashion Studio Magazine, featuring travel, lifestyle, and fashi...

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