Big Daddy's Fusion

His first surgery was the diskectomy which removed all of two disks in his lower spinal region. The disks separate and cushion the vertebrae. His second surgery was a spinal fusion because his vertebrae did not grow together after the first surgery. The pain and numbness continued and was even worse than before his first surgery. A spinal fusion is necessary when one of your disks herniates and the soft gel inside pushes through the wall of the disk. The disk then places pressure on the spinal cord and nerves that are coming out of the spinal column. Spinal fusion is surgery to join together vertebrae in the spine. Fusing permanently joins two bones together so there is no longer movement between them.

The spinal column above and below the fusion are more likely to be stressed when the spine moves, and have problems later. Also, if you needed more than one kind of back surgery (such as diskectomy and spinal fusion), you may have more of a chance of future problems.

Ah. That’s Big Daddy.

So, the first surgery was in November. The spinal fusion was this past Friday. Someone who had come to visit at the hospital commented that we had really been through a rough year and a half. Yep. We sure have. I then remembered everyone rallying around us saying that if we could just hold on for that one year of surgeries and chemo, we would be good to go. I finished my last chemo the end of September and less than a month later, Big Daddy “annihilated” two disks on October 20th.

The surgeon was so impressed by Big Daddy’s injury on the MRI films that he called in his colleagues to see them. “How is he walking?” Well, when you cross Superman with GI Joe, he walks despite the pain.

I thought it was interesting that the surgeon also said that Big Daddy had not “ruptured” his disks, like some mere, mortal man. No, no. Big Daddy had “annihilated” his disks.

Well, it does make for a better story and when more people than you can count consider you to be a superhero… So yeah, disk “annihilation” works.

So, here we are. Two spinal surgeries behind us and a very long rehab process in front of us. I have a whole lot of stories I would love to share with you but can’t. If there was a spectrum with my willingness to tell everything I know and Big Daddy’s desire for privacy, you would see polar opposites.

Suffice it to say, Big Daddy is recuperating well and we are so thankful for those who helped us through this second surgery. The visits, calls, texts, Facebook messages, emails, food, and of course, prayers helped more than any thank you note could ever express. Our family is surrounded by great people and tremendous blessings.

God is good ALL the time. Every day, every hour, every moment. Cancer didn’t do anything to us but make us stronger and the same can be said of our current situation…if I were allowed to talk about it…lol.

Wicked

"Me thinks thou dost protest too much!"
I made it clear in my last post that I am not depressed or sad or anything like that.
Not that ANYONE will believe that I am fine after watching this video....
LOL
I really am, though. Promise.


This video has been in the works forever.
Big Daddy presented me with my be-all-end-all camera on Christmas 2009 and these photos were taken the next day-ish.
(Chemo brain...can't remember exact dates, ya know)
Anyway, I have held onto these photos because:
a. They were my FIRST photoshoot i.e., my first photoshoot idea come to fruition...and
b. I needed the perfect music to accompany the project.
And here we are, over one year later with my finished project.
Hey, "perfect" music is hard to find!


Again, no need to schedule an intervention...I really am fine...
Now, where did I put that bottle of pills....






My suggestion is to click on the YouTube icon for improved clarity and picture rather than watching on this page, but hey, do what you want.
I'm totally joking! I'm just seeing how long before one of my sisters call...

On Being Pandora Spocks...

When I take pictures of people, I always try to get some candid shots.
I will sometimes also ask them to think about something that moves them or touches them.
The photos in this video reflect such shots and requests but it also shows a few pictures that are meaningful to me on a unique, hard to describe level.


I am not depressed.
I am not sad or lonely or upset.
I do find myself, however, plagued with questions to which I have no answers from time to time.


We stumble upon normalcy without realizing it and the same can be said of apathy.
Is this all there is to my life?
Why do I still hurt about wrongs long since buried?
Ah, shallow graves...
Silent blows....
Me...a porcelain grenade unsure of who is holding my pin.


I love moving songs even though the vast majority are considered sad.
Perhaps I am drawn to the melancholy because I am comfortable there.
Maybe we all are...

Ha ha ha...no, we are most certainly not! Are we?

I was speaking with a dear friend and told her that sometimes I get very tired of being "on". I feel like people expect me to make them laugh or cheer them up. At times, a heavy weight. My favorite place to be is in my house, by myself, when the rest of my family is safe and healthy, but not home. It is during these times that I am able to "just be me". I don't have to perform or make sure everyone is happy. I can do what I like and not worry about letting someone down or disappointing them. In other words, I can just think...


I often need peace and alone time in order to have a thought to myself, for myself. It is very difficult to find a minute in my life. Work, school, wounded warrior at home preparing for another surgery, teenagers, concerts, track meets, band events, friends, church, study time, career change, drive time, grocery shopping, doctor/dentist appointments, fundraising, cooking and my all-time favorite thing to do....housecleaning. Ugh...not!


I. Crave. Solitude.


My friend said that she wanted to say she understood but her biggest fear is actually to be alone. She went on to say that I was the absolute, funniest person she had ever known. Then she said that she had read somewhere that the vast majority of comedians battle depression. It is as if they live on two separate planes. The social plane of humor and ease and the plane of sadness or despondency when alone.


I asked her about a "happy medium" and she said she had no idea if I could ever find one. I asked what she meant and she said, "I have seen you 'perform' for years now but I can only recall once when you were completely vulnerable...and it made you completely suicidal".


I know exactly what time she was referring to. Years ago, but like the days my children were born, I can recall every moment...


I need time alone.


I need time alone to reconcile my planes.


I am not depressed.
I am not sad or lonely or upset.


I like to think. That's all. I like to be alone with my thoughts and find creative outlets for that which moves me. This video is the result of my being alone with myself. Nothing more. Nothing less.


I have pondered the meaning of life for years now. As a Christian, I know my role on earth. As a flawed human, I have questions, both philosophical as well as practical.


Is this all there is?


Did I matter?


If I drop the soap in the shower, is it dirty?


Why did he lie to me?


How do birds not run into each other when they change direction on a dime?


Why did she go out of her way to upset me?


I don't know the meaning of life beyond the calling and purpose of a Christian. I have figured out a few things, though...


Time passes regardless of it being your best friend or worst enemy.
Love waxes and wanes.
Jobs come and go and so do people.
Hearts break.
Parents die.
Children grow up and leave.
Life goes on. Cliche, but true.
Whining changes nothing and whiners, along with liars, piss me off more than anyone.
Hate eventually becomes apathy, and apathy IS the opposite of love.
People lie, break promises, and make excuses for all of it.
Everyone has an opinion on making things better but very few accept the responsibility of doing it.
Men lie.
Women cry.
And again, life goes on.


I am not depressed.
I am not sad or lonely or upset.


Music moves me. Photos move me. The pictures I have been blessed enough to capture that find their way into something else I have created, make me feel more complete.


I need to feel more complete...so I can go back and answer those hard questions I mentioned before...as well as the new ones I come up with every, single day while being me.



Whether or not I discover the meaning of life, I do hope you enjoy this music video.
Was I sad or depressed when I created this video?
Nope.
Reflective, melancholy, kind of mad?
Yeah.

Mad? Really?

Well, yeah. It goes back to the whole "whiners and liars" comment. Whiners make me mad just out of general principle and liars because I believe them. I guess in actuality, I am more angry at myself for trusting than I am at the liar himself. I believe people. I take people at their word. I see no reason to NOT tell the truth.

Sucker.

Stupid.

Naive.

So, yeah, I was reflective, melancholy and even a little mad when I made the video...but I dare say the combination of music and photography is hauntingly beautiful even though lacking smiling faces.

I am a kaleidoscope of emotion. Never boring. Sometimes a smile is merely a mask...


Do you see yourself in my words? Are we the same? Am I so different?


It's amazing how so few words can resonate for lifetimes...
Love, lies, loss...
Yours, mine, ours...
Happy, sad, simply thinking, reconciling my planes, being comfortable in the melancholy...just being...just being me.






My suggestion is to click the YouTube icon above for better clarity and sound.
Enjoy "Farewell"...

Needles and Hot Pockets

Big Daddy had been scheduled for another MRI at 8am. I didn’t have to be at the doctor’s office until 9:40, so maybe he would be finished in time to meet me there. Time ticked away and eventually Big Daddy called. He was finished at his appointment and was on his way to meet me at mine. This was my first post-chemo scan and my emotions did what they usually do…ignore my determination to not get “all caught up” in what could be.

I called Big Daddy as I drove to my appointment.

“Hey. I just wanted to let you know that you don’t have to come if you don’t want to…I mean, I seem to be a bit emotional and I don’t know why and since I don’t know why it’s kind of hard for me to control it so if you just wanna meet me at the house after, we could do that and then maybe get some lunch or something of course, I have class tonight so I need to try and find my lab book…I found my lecture book, it was in the back of the truck but I think my lab book is on the big chair in the living room .”

No, really, he LOVES my run-on sentences in that one-octave higher than usual speaking voice.

“Traffic is moving a little slow but I’ll be there. I love you. See you in a minute.”

And there you have it.

I walked into the clinic and headed toward Registration. You learn the system pretty quickly when you visit so often. My immediate thought, as it always has been, is that I do not belong here. These people are sick. The vast majority of patients are elderly. Most with some sort of assisted walking device such as a walker or cane or wheelchair. I do not belong here. It is so obvious to me that I feel an almost anger rising up. This is new. I don’t recall feeling angry before. Maybe I did. As I have mentioned previously, I have no recollection of most things. The chemo-brain phenomenon presented itself not too long ago. As the snow accumulated outside, I cleaned out Precious Son’s closet and there they were…a pair of brand new, shiny patent leather black snow boots with soft, plush fur rimming the tops. Apparently I had purchased them last winter. It was like someone handing me the perfect gift, these boots. Ah, chemo-brain, where everything is new again.

Anger was rising inside of me because I was NOT sick, I was NOT old, and I was NOT going to drink that beyond-nasty gloop they give you before scans with contrast.

Pre-registration, done.

Radiology registration, in process.

The lady asked if I could please complete and update my information. Sure! Why not? I took the form and read the first question…

“Why are you being seen by us today?”

It was at this very moment that I was possessed by someone else. Someone mean and hateful and yucky. The “person” took over my hand and answered the question in a manner most unbecoming to me, the non-possessed.

“Why are you being seen by us today?”

The handwriting was nothing like mine. The letters were large, irregular and messy. The pen was leaving indentations from the pressure being applied as each letter was scrawled out for the world to see…

C A N C E R

Seeing it before me, having no real recollection of writing it, I just kind of stopped. The letters took up far more space than allowed by the template boxes. I stared at the writing. The writing that was not mine. The writing was from someone who was silently screaming through each individual letter.

C A N C E R

You know how you do that self-reflection kind of thing when you are pretty sure the world is crazy and it isn’t you but you sort of step back and take a mental inventory just to be sure? That’s where I was.

I just wrote “CANCER” as the answer to why I was being seen today.

Self-reflection…I wrote that and I am apparently angry inside. Wow. Who knew?

Well, there is a pretty good chance the lady handing me the forms picked up on my angst because while I was staring blankly at the paper, she said:

“Here are two bottles of dye for you to drink.”

“Actually, you can give me one because I can choke down about one third of one bottle before I start to puke.”

“Okie dokie, then! Here is one bottle. Do what you can, Honey.”

Obviously the “angry person” had not only taken over my handwriting but also my voice and dialog.

I answered the rest of the questions but my eyes continued to be drawn back to those letters…

C A N C E R

If I knew why or what I was feeling, I hope you know by now that I would share it with you, but I don’t know the answer to either.

Big Daddy came in and sat beside of me as I had completed the information update and was now forcing that horrible thick-quid down my throat.

I was shortly escorted back into the CT Scan area and they told Big Daddy he would have to wait outside of the door or in the lobby. He chose outside the door. I undressed and lie down while the techs gathered their needles and IV paraphernalia. I explained that I was a “hard stick” and that my veins blow and that I will cry. I asked if Big Daddy could please come in while they were putting the IV in if he promised to leave before the radiation started. They agreed, of course.

Big Daddy came in and took my left hand, and cradled it to his chest. I appreciated this gesture far more than I could put into words here but please remember, he just had spinal surgery and his range of motion is significantly reduced. Bending over seems so simple and commonplace, but it isn’t for him. Not anymore. And yet, there he was, bending over to hold my hand close to his heart.

I reminded the techs that they could only access my right arm because my left arm is off limits for sticks, blood pressure, and wearing my wedding band since the surgery. They understood. I needed to make sure they knew they were not only working with a limited tolerance level (me) but also with limited availability (sites). These sticks MUST count the FIRST time.

First vein, deep in the bend of my elbow, blows within sixty seconds.

Tears were already coming down and I was probably looking as pitiful as I felt. Big Daddy told me to keep looking at him, and I did. He also told me that for lunch we could just pick up some hot pockets, and put them in our coats for lunch. I was trying to concentrate on what he said but it didn’t make any sense. With as much vein-accessing-distraction as humanly possible, I asked what on earth he was talking about.

“Well, with my MRI this morning and your CT now, we should have enough radiation between us to cook up some hot pockets if we have them in our coats and hold hands”.

I laughed. The techs laughed. Big Daddy laughed. The needle was in.

Second vein, just below my wrist bone works just long enough to complete the scan and then it blows, too.

This was a good day because the test was actually completed before the vein blew more than twice.

Big Daddy was waiting for me just outside the door, of course, and we headed downstairs to the lab for my blood draw. Again, the place was full of sick people, old people, people not like me somehow.

The phlebotomist accessed the deep vein in the crook of my arm, just above where the vein had blown before. Now, with a blood draw, there is no catheter and they can use a butterfly needle, which she did and all was well.

My oncology visit went well and Dr. Horn said that he would see us in three months for the next round of blood work.

“No scans?”

“Nope, just blood work.”

“Well, ok then! See you in three months!”

And off we went, Big Daddy and I, to pick up some hot pockets for lunch.

Sometimes you just have to put anger, whether understandable or not, in the back seat for a while and get yourself some lunch.