Great Stuff, Not So Great Stuff

GREAT STUFF . . . Since returning from New York City, I've been hiking the canyon behind my home just about every evening. Initially, just a few steps. Day by day, adding a few more. Eventually, about a mile. My dog has provided me with constant encouragement. Wouldn't this joyful little face motivate YOU?

Yesterday, I did a crack-of-dawn hike, and discovered that I could hoof it much farther with the fresh morning air. In fact, about two miles. Determination runs deep within my clan and I was ecstatic about this measurable progress.

The shots below were taken THIS MORNING during my second two-mile hike. Better than words, they speak of the inspiration I find in the canyon.

NOW, THE NOT SO GREAT STUFF: These hikes are fabulous and all, but they gobble up my meager energy reserves. I'd been warned by my fellow recovering friends on the scoliosis forum that I shouldn't expect to be back to "normal" for at least a year. Well, I never thought that applied to ME!

In fact, I'll make a couple of confessions here. Last month, I called my surgeon's head nurse and asked for a medical form so I could make it through airport security with all my titanium. My plan was to fly out to West Virginia on July 25th and honor the passing of a dear cousin. The nurse balked at my request. "Dr. Boachie's patients do NOT take to the skies two months after their surgeries." I persisted and she reluctantly mailed me the medical form.

However, as the time approached, I began to seriously doubt the prudence of my travel plans. I found myself getting so tuckered out, so bone weary, so utterly exhausted.

Me at age 8, but you get the idea.

On July 21, I finally got honest with myself regarding my limitations and canceled the trip.

I would have felt quite deflated if I hadn't made other plans to travel to Canada on August 9th. I have five amazing Canadian god daughters who are gathering in a cottage on the shores of Lake Osoyoos in British Columbia. Their birth mom insisted on flying me up there so I could lay in the hammock while my godchildren took turns giving me foot massages and making me laugh. YES! Certainly I'd be up to speed with another couple of weeks under my belt! Or so I told myself.

My darling god daughters with their birth parents.

Well, the days are passing and I'm still NOT NORMAL, as I'd fully planned to be. Yesterday, I discovered that the plane tickets hadn't yet been purchased and so I was free to change my mind. Once again, I backed out of another trip. Sheesh!

Last night, I bawled my eyes out. I want to get back into the saddle, but willpower is NOT ENOUGH. Since I have a direct phone line to my dear doctor, I called her and told her how fed up I am with being weary and depleted. She helped me a lot by saying:

1. MOST of my body's resources are being allocated for healing. Remember that.

2. I need TONS of calories and nutritionally dense food while my body repairs itself. (She knows I'm not a big eater and she wants to change that.)

3. She's going to do a blood work-up and make certain that I don't have any deficiencies playing into my exhaustion.

So, the lesson I'm learning is to EAT and keep my expectations in line with my reality. And, most importantly, remember to . . .

GO SLOW * GO SLOW * GO SLOW * GO SLOW
while my body heals .

Being a Rare Specimen

For years, I "played the field" when it came to physical therapists. My back pain would become unbearable and I'd call whoever could fit me into their schedule. About twelve years ago, I found the best P.T. this side of the Rockies. My crème de la crème P.T. had abilities and experience that left the others in the dust. AND, apparently I was not the only person to observe his talents. He has been promoted about six times since I designated him the Fix-My-Back-NOW Man.

I returned from New York City with complete confidence that My Guy with decades of P.T. experience under his belt would know JUST what to do with me and my improved spine.

I was SHOCKED to discover that Mr. P.T. Extraordinaire had NEVER dealt with so much hardware, so many fusions. Yes, he's worked on a pile of patients with a fused disc or two. Their post-surgery spines look like the one on the right, with an itty bitty rod, not a truckload of hardware or twelve fusions running the length of the spine.

My peculiar status manifests itself in various ways. I see people whispering as they watch me enter the exercise room of the hospital. Somehow, they seem to already know that I'm the Original Bionic Woman, although I've not been the broadcaster. (News DOES travel fast.)

And then there was the time when I went for my six-week post-opt x-rays and I could hear a gaggle of radiology technicians GAWKING at my spinal image taped to their light-up screen. As I dressed back into my street clothes, they were counting each of my 4" screws and when they got to nineteen, I wanted to call out, "WRONG! There are only eighteen!" But what's the difference?

Later, as I was exiting the changing room, quite a few of those techies were hanging around the hallway. No question about it - they wanted a look at the lady put together with wires, screws and rods. But all they got to see was a clothed, attractive woman. (Notice that the sign between my teeth clears up any doubts. It says "ATTRACTIVE".)

All jest aside, I am truly blessed to be a RARE ORTHOPEDIC SPECIMEN and yet I can still dance with a flower in my mouth without a SINGLE SOUL detecting that I am a physical oddity. They may consider me odd for other reasons, but they'll never know that I'm put together with titanium.

At this point, I'm OVER my initial shock of being "a first" for my dear P.T. He's got to have one during his career and I get to be The Case. The two of us have a LONG road to travel together as I become officially "rehabilitated".

And I plan to enjoy the journey because,
as I truly believe,
THE ONLY WAY IS UP!

Crooked Spines & Squished Organs

Most people shrink as they get older. However, people with crooked spines shrink much faster.

THE RESULT?
Squished organs.
In my case, my pre-surgerical respiration tests showed a 69% lung function. (Generally, that's what kills those unfortunates with extreme cases.)

Additionally, pressure on my stomach meant I was no match a Big Mac and fries. (You moms knew that sensation when you were 8 1/2 months pregnant.) BTW, this was NOT an asset, as you might assume.

Finally, my bladder grew tinier and tinier with each passing year. When I'd venture away from home, the location of the bathroom became a critical issue. I could last 30 daytime minutes, with luck. At night, I hoped for a couple of hours before shuffling off to the john where I kept plenty of supplies . . .

Now that my spine is straighter,

I have HAPPY ORGANS!

My innards have a little elbow room and I look forward to years of deeper breathing, full platters of food, and less time on the throne. Actually, I am already experiencing major improvements in the last category. I sleep through the entire night beautifully and then wake up in the morning and roam around the house a bit before ever seeking bladder relief.

What a JOY to BREAK THE CHAINS
that tied me to the commode!

Fireballs & Bizarre Sensations

I never was a cautious personality. Quite the opposite. My favorite sports were dangerous ones, like technical rock climbing, 400 mile outdoor survival treks, scaling mountain peaks in the middle of winter and decades of motorcycling.

Twelve spinal fusions require major adjustments in my thinking pattern. Let's face it. I've only had ONE month of practice at this cautiousness mindset and I'm not very good at it. Like, when my two-year-old grandson showed up at the door last week. I was thrilled to open my arms and let that 35 pound fireball of enthusiasm come barreling into me.

An hour later, I knew I was in trouble. I could feel the left rod from top to bottom and it was the most bizarre sensation. I figured that one or more of my 18 screws had come loose and that was causing movement in the rod.

I called my surgeon's office in New York and spoke with the clinical coordinator who told me that I was only experiencing inflammation of the muscles surrounding the rod. The unusual sensation came from the muscles moving over the rod. If my hardware had come loose or had broken, I would be howling with pain and it wouldn't simply be a "strange sensation".

At this point, the swelling has gone down and I no longer feel any of the instrumentation. How can I have all that hardware and NOT feel it? I simply don't know. But, after my little experience last week, I realize how fortunate I am . . . as long as I'm CAUTIOUS around adorable two-year-old FIREBALLS!

Uncharted Waters

No question about it: my recovery continues to take me into "uncharted waters". I can get up in the morning and feel like a million bucks. Two hours later, I'm staggering towards my bed.

I had this foolish idea that I was going to be exceptional in every aspect of my recuperation since I could do so many things right out of the starting gates. I ditched the walker so so early and my pain levels have dropped to the Extremely Tolerable level.

It's just that energy thing. Reminds me of being a week out from birthing a baby. I'm even losing globs of hair, which I haven't done since Kelty was born! Let's face it - rearranging my skeletal system was rather traumatic to my 55 year old body.

The orthopedics like to say that middle-aged scoliosis surgery is more invasive than a heart transplant, especially if they are revising old fusions. (For those of you who don't know it, I had eight fusions at age 14 due to scoliosis. This is why I sought out a competent "Scoliosis Revisionist" in New York City to undertake my 'reconstruction project'.)

HERE'S THE IMPORTANT THING: Each day, it's a wee bit better. I feel myself WILLING and ABLE to do just a little more on my feet. Those minuscule increments of improvement are worthy of celebration. Truly my rebirth into this new and improved body is a cause for pulling out the party hats and favors!

On the flip side of the coin,

I am indulging myself during my times of rest
(and healing).

Books,
podcasts,
music,
journaling,
delightful phone calls to old friends,
. . . and day dreaming.

With a great deal of encouragement from kind friends, I've been pampering myself with all this resting. I want to incorporate it as a part of my long-term life style.

Resting is not only agreeable ( . . . when one learns how to accept it . . .) but it's ALSO helping all those little bitty bone grafts fuse my spine. Dr. Boachie had to remind me more than once, your body can not heal with rest. Now, I get it. I'm ACCOMPLISHING something as I lounge around my house.

Pretty great, don't you think?!