Grieving and Grateful: One Year Later

In case you're wondering why I'm in a wheelchair and Facebook's algorithm still hasn't clued you in:

On November 18, 2015 I walked into Emory Midtown Hospital for surgery to remove a large tumor from inside my spine. I had no idea about the grueling journey I had just begun. Sure, I knew the surgery was serious. Every surgeon I consulted said the exact same thing: the spine is "major real estate." And I would imagine that Nicholas Cage meme and think, "How dumb do you think I am?" 

Despite the dire warning, I knew I had one of the best surgeons in the nation for this kind of thing. Dr. Gerald Rodts looks and talks like a 50-ish Robert Redford and he's been around "major real estate" for decades. He said the chance of short term paralysis after the surgery was 30% and permanent paralysis was a scant 1%.

Lucky me?

Here I am a year later and I haven't walked more than three steps at a time. And that's with a walker. The recovery process is much longer and much more difficult than I ever imagined. I felt a mixture of fear and disappointment leading up to today. I've cried bitter tears the past 12 months as I grieved for my former self. I often felt like I died on November 18, 2015 and I'm a broken ghost haunting the remnants of my former life. Nerves are weird, to say the least. There's no guarantee on how much I will recover or how long it will take. 

And yet my main emotions today have been hope and gratitude. My right leg was affected most by the tumor, and two weeks ago, it suddenly regained a bit more mobility. And last week, I finally transferred from my wheelchair into my car without having to use the cumbersome sliding board. Who knows what could happen in six months, next week, or even tomorrow?

I'm thankful for every new accomplishment, no matter how small (tying my shoes, standing for five minutes, doing a load of laundry, not falling naked off the bed like that one time). I'm thankful for every single person I have helping me along this journey (Marnye, family, friends, therapists, doctors, Village Theatre, that one guy who propped up my chair when one of my wheels fell off). I'm thankful this is not the end. I'll keep fighting. I'll keep living the best I can with what I have- an embarrassment of riches of love and support.

        

This Is Spinal Tumor (Six Month Update)

Six months ago today, I had surgery to remove an “aggressive but benign” tumor from the C5 to T3 section of my spinal cord. In other words, most of my neck.  I had expected to be in the hospital a week or two and be hobbling around in time for Christmas. However, the expensive MRI failed to show how extensive the tumor was on the right side of my spinal column. I spent the next two months in the Shepherd Center followed by three weeks of Shepherd’s day program, and now I’m undergoing home therapy twice a week.  I’m not walking yet, but I am starting to stand. In honor of my unexpected medical journey, here are some highlights from the last six months.

·    *  November 25, the worst night of my life.  I recommend not being admitted to the hospital the night before Thanksgiving. The depression is intense. I was strapped onto a gurney and left alone for a few minutes? seconds? in the lobby and I honestly thought I was going to die there.  I was a broken piece of meat stuffed with needles, tubes, and medications. Most heartbreaking of all: I couldn’t figure out the TV remote in my new room.

·      * Watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on Valium is highly recommended.

·      * Nurse: What do you do for fun Me: Improv Nurse: Yeah, we don’t have anything like that here.

·      * Every therapist at Shepherd is attractive. Most of them have seen me naked.

·      * Mike King’s first visit. He was the loudest voice on the entire floor and I love him for it. I’ll never forget his motivational speech about "kicking that tumor's ass."

·      * Gil’s first visit. He broke his hand at home later that night. We compared therapies for weeks.

·      * Mike ran all over town to get flowers and other things for Marnye’s birthday, which we celebrated in the cafeteria.

·      * Playing with Clabo’s new drone in my room on Christmas Eve. The charge nurse came in my room because of all the raucous carrying on. Clabo and Marnye looked like they had been busted by their parents.

·      * While suspended in the air over my hospital bed, I reenacted the ball drop on New Year’s Eve.

·     *  Getting one of the last nude Playboy issues as a gag gift then realizing security had been guarding it for hours before it was delivered to my room.

*+*Belated Christmas with my family. Force Awakens Wrapping Paper.

·      * Video game therapy while playing Rock Band. Our lead singer hated talking let alone singing.

·     *  The realization that a vampy, sultry nurse who sees me naked is good friends with a Village Theatre company member. Hooray for HIPAA!

·     *  Falling onto the floor my first week home. Naked.

·      * Seeing The Force Awakens the last weekend it was in theaters.

·    *  Nearly falling out of my wheelchair onto Ponce twice. The last time was in front of a MARTA bus. The driver shook his head.

·     * Upon seeing my new svelte frame, a friend said, “You look hot except for the wheelchair.”

·      * Returning to Village Theatre for my first improv show in months. I entered/exited the stage on a ramp at a convenient 80- degree angle.

·      * Standing at the kitchen sink with my home therapist. The cat was so intrigued by the excitement, he crawled in the sink.

****Belated Thanksgiving with my VT family.

·      * Figuring out the TV remote.