Lessons In Patience: Twin Planks Edition

The past year has taught me many lessons. A few of the lessons were easy, but the vast majority were not-so-easy. I mean, nothing can really be easy when you go from being ridiculously active and always on the go, to having a broken back with an incomplete spinal cord injury. Physically, emotionally, not the lessons that I could have ever imagined dealing with... at any age. This past month, I've had an extra dose of the not-so-easy lessons. While I know the bionic life is going to be full of lessons of all shapes and sizes, the month of March sure was a doozie. 

There's Always Next Season...

To be honest, it's been coming for awhile. I waited 9.5 months to get back on skis for the first time since breaking my back, only to deal with the most brutal conditions and spraining my gimpy, nerve-damaged ankle. The bright side of that whole ordeal was that I got on a lift (it had a safety bar AND the lift operator was doing their job) and got in a few turns. That in itself was huge. Since that weekend in early December, I hadn't been on skis again until Dave and I went tame ski touring a few times in the Mammoth Lakes Basin around mid-February (see previous post). The tame skinning adventures were baby steps in the right direction. Well, sometimes when you're taking baby steps, you have to do-si-do around those steps.

Breaking trail on the way to Little Lakes Valley

While my body is adapting to having skis on my feet again and getting use to the feeling of having a free heel, sometimes you need to know when to call it and save locking the heel for next season. In early March, my back started flaring up. It was similar to previous flare ups, but at the same time was different and more intense. It felt like a very tight, sharp pain running down my lower spine, near the hardware. Unlike previous times when it was the upper hardware that was irritated, it was the lower region of the hardware, around the L2 area. I tried my go-to tricks that helped with previous problems - heat, ibuprofen, rest, etc - but nothing seemed to really work. I had a few extra tame weekends. I took some unpaid time off work to rest it to see if it would help (not good for someone who has massive bills to pay, but I've gotta listen to the body). Finally after about three weeks of a very grumpy back, it seemed to calm down a little. Chris, my PT, seems to think that it's most likely stress on the joint below the fusion. It makes complete sense and so we're focusing on exercises and such to help. While I can't pinpoint the cause of the flare up and it's most likely a combination of things, I'm just going to have to accept that it will happen from time to time. Welcome to the "new normal"... again. 

It's no secret that the Sierra is having a crappy snow year. That, along with the bionic back still adapting to things, made it a relatively easy decision to just spend the rest of the ski season skinning around rather than hitting the slopes. I'd still be able to get a great workout and strengthen muscles that need it, but I'd also get skis on the feet time. It's been just over a year since both surgeries and I'm still healing. With all the progress I've been making, too much could go wrong on the slopes and I don't want to take that chance. Backpacking season is quickly approaching and I don't want to risk anything happening before then. I didn't get to backpack last year and I don't want to have another year of that. So, the decision was simple... there is always next winter! Needless to say, I thought I'd be perfectly fine with that. The truth is, I'm still bitter about not being on the slopes again this year. The bitterness is very much alive and kicking. It's not bad when I'm skinning around, but when I read reports of fresh powder it hits hard. When we are around Mammoth and I see people skiing, it hits really hard. I know that I made the best decision for me. Sometimes the best decisions are the toughest ones. I'm going to keep doing tame ski tours while I can, but the major focus is on getting myself ready for skeeter season in the Sierra... err, I mean hiking season!

I always smile when I see snow-covered mountains.

Learning To Listen

Not only was the past month all about learning to listen to my body, but it was also about learning to listen to what really matters. Listening to what makes me happy, listening to those that matter to me,... and tuning out the negative. The past few weeks, the financial stress from the bionic back situation has hit really hard. The fact that I needed to take time off for my back didn't help the situation. I've been pretty down lately as a result. It's been hard to focus on the positive instead of all the negative, when that's what's looming in your face. I know that somehow it will all work itself out, it has to, but it's not easy to deal with. It also hasn't been easy to let go of those in your life that aren't really who they appeared to be. After months of hanging onto friendships that I thought were genuine, it's time to let go and move on (I don't like fake people). Luckily I have some really great friends and coworkers that are always encouraging me and are so supportive. Dave has been an amazing strength through this too. The past year hasn't been easy for either of us, and he's been like a rock for me through all of the ups and downs. 

I'm learning to listen to my body. I'm learning to tune out the negative. Now it's time to listen to and focus on what makes me happy and really matters. Friends. Family. Nature. Hiking in the Sierra. Spending my days with Dave. Lunch dates with Sandy. Having Laura yell "don't look at the trees!" Being bionic buddies for life with Summer. Talking about EVO with Karen. Planning a return trip to Precipice Lake with Terri. Getting harassed at the PT office by Chris and Laura. The list goes on and on. I know that there are still going to be many rough days ahead for me, but I just need to remember to listen to what matters. What really matters is that I'm alive and walking again. 

The Return to Skiing

Cleared to Ski!

I think saying that I've been itching to get back on skis is an understatement... maybe the understatement of the decade. I told Dave that we have to wait until I see Dr Levy and get X-rays to make sure everything is solid. When we were up in Mammoth before Thanksgiving, I was threatening to hijack the car, drive up the mountain (we were only in the Village), and go skiing. I was pretty serious, but knew I'd never overpower Dave for control of the Darth-mobile. 

The next 1.5 weeks couldn't go fast enough. I was nervous about getting X-rays. What if something had moved (I had an achy back for several weeks). What if I wouldn't be cleared for skiing. What if, what if, what if... WHAT IF?! Needless to say, I pretty much worried for nothing... the X-rays were amazing. Dr Levy said he was happy with how everything looked - especially given how active I had become since I saw him in June. He told me I was his "star patient" and I guess that's a good thing. We'll really see how things are when I get a CT scan in January.

Who's stabbing me with screws?!

The crazy spine!

After seeing the X-rays, the next big question was "am I allowed to ski again?" I had a little sinking feeling that maybe he'd say no, but he technically did clear me for doing whatever I felt up to back in June. I was very happy when he cleared me to "cautiously" ski (I'm sure all of my critics felt a disturbance in The Force). I was very happy and relieved to hear him say that. We talked a little about things to watch out for, but they were everyday warnings too - like don't twist a lot/do straight-line stuff, etc. Overall, I was very happy hearing the news and the weekend couldn't get here fast enough.

T-2 days and counting...!

I thought the weeks leading up to skiing again were long, try the two days between the appointment and leaving for Mammoth. Eternity. With the amount of snow predicted for the weekend, I was stoked. I couldn't wait to get there. I was excited... and very nervous. I was very nervous... and excited. I was nervously excited. Practically everyone knew I was going skiing and how excited I was about it. I got the standard responses - some thought I was crazy, some were excited for me, etc. Most were excited for me, but told me to be careful. I got the "with all the progress you've made, I'd hate to see you get hurt and not be able to walk again." I'm not going to lie, that is something that scares me about getting back on skis again. What if I fell and hurt my back again? What if I tweaked it while on the skis? There are a lot of "what ifs", but what if I never tried?! How would I feel if I never tried?! One thing this whole adventure has taught me is to "do what you love" and I plan on doing just that.

Time To Drop In

The day had finally come. After 9.5 painfully long months of rehab and being banned from skiing, we were heading to Mammoth! We decided to head up on Friday so we could go to the premiere of Drop In at Canyon Lodge. When I first saw the trailer for it, I knew we had to go to it. I'd been in contact with Jeremy and Alan about coming to see the premiere and wanting to meet. I was actually excited because they actually wanted to ski with me the next day - on my return to skis! If you have not seen the trailer for Drop In, I highly recommend it. If you have the opportunity to see the film, GO! It's inspiring. It will change your perspective on what is possible. It will remind you to DO WHAT YOU LOVE no matter what is thrown your way. With all that I have been through - the fact that I'm extremely lucky to be alive AND walking, the ridiculously incredible recovery, etc - this movie inspires me. It reminds me to DO WHAT I LOVE no matter what critics have to say. 

9.5 Months Later, It Is Time... Mammoth or Bust!

We woke up on Saturday to crazy wind, single digit temps, and 10+ inches of fresh powder! It was a sign. We were initially going to just rent gear at Mammoth, but with all the fresh pow, we stopped at Mammoth Mountaineering. I was finally going to get to demo the Dynafit AT setup that I was itching to get for months. The day was getting even better. We had our Manaslus and TLT6s and headed up the mountain. On the drive up, I could tell the day was going to be interesting. When we got to the Lodge, we got the bad news - most of the mountain was without power due to the wind (constant 30mph with 50+mph gusts). They had one lift open - Chair 11. I was in luck because that was the lift for two green runs, which is what I was planning on spending most of the day on. Trust me, as much as I wanted to jump on the Blues, I knew that I needed to get use to the feel of skis again and see how my body would handle skiing. As Dave was in line getting lift tickets, I was starting to get a little nervous.

When we stepped outside, I was very grateful to have so many layers on. The conditions were brutal - the wind was blowing me around. As I stepped into the Dynafit bindings, the oh-so-glorious Radial ST bindings, I was getting nervously excited. It felt good to have skis on my feet again, but it also felt really foreign at the same time. I was just really hoping that my legs were strong enough after all the nerve damage to still be able to control the skis like I use to... or at least a little bit. Before I would figure that out, I had to get on the lift...

Being brutally honest, I was freaking out a bit about getting on the lift. I kept telling Dave how nervous I was, but I'm pretty sure he didn't hear me because of how much the wind was howling. I was getting on a lift only 9.5 months after breaking my back falling from one, in the absolute worst conditions. It was reassuring that the lift operators were actually cleaning off the seats and doing their jobs, and that there was a safety bar on this one. I was on the lift, the bar was down, we were off. The wind was about 5x worse on the lift and I had to hide my face in my jacket because it was very sub-zero feeling, but I was on a lift! The flashback of falling started as we approached the top of the lift. I was taking a lot of deep breaths for the last few seconds on the lift. We got to the top, I got off, and I made it. I got back on a lift and did it in the most brutal conditions! 

What Goes Up, Must Come Down

Now that I had made it up, it was time to see how my body would handle skiing after a 9+ month break involving a lot of titanium in my spine, significant damage to the nerves in my legs, and weaker muscles. I think I was actually more nervous about the skiing than actually getting on the lift. I knew I'd survive the lift, but I wasn't sure how my legs would handle the skis... or how my back would handle a fall on the slopes. As excited as I have been about getting back on skis, I was nervous about the bionic back.

As I started down the slope, it felt a little weird to have huge planks on my feet, but at the same time it felt great. The winds were at least a little calmer on the run, but it was still almost a whiteout. At least there was fresh powder! I could tell that my leg muscles were significantly weaker than the last time I was on skis, which is because the nerves still aren't fully back yet, so I was having a few minor issues with controlling the skis. I think part of it was that I was just nervous about falling too. I took a sliding fall, and it wasn't too bad. I got back up, with the help of Dave's hand, and continued on. I was doing okay with the turns, but then I had a little issue with controlling my right ski on a turn and took a tumble that involved releasing the binding. I'm not surprised that it was the right ski because I tend to have more issues with the muscles in that foot (can't lift the big toe, but can lift the rest fine). I could tell I tweaked my ankle in the fall (not sure how), but my back still felt great. I got up, got back in the binding, and skied on. It didn't really go how I wanted, with the falling and all, but I did my first run back on skis! Dave even said I was looking pretty good too! We escaped the conditions for awhile trying to warm up and see how I was feeling. Dave went out for another run, and decided that the conditions on the lift made it not worth it. Shortly after that, the lift was shut down because of the weather. 

While most would think that the day was a bust due to the conditions, only one lift running and having it be shut down before lunch, I think it was a success. I got back on skis again... and a lift. That in itself is huge for me! We also ran into friends that were at Mammoth for the weekend and spent the rest of the day hanging out with them. Also, major props to Mammoth Mountain for giving us vouchers for another visit due to the situation on the mountain.

The smile says it all!

My Thoughts On Bionic Skiing 

I broke my back on a ski lift. In order to get back on skis, I would need to ride a lift again. 9+ months is a long time to wait to get back on skis for someone who fell in love with the sport last season. I knew that getting back on skis was going to be an adventure, but the past 9+ months has been an adventure for me. It might not have gone exactly how I wanted it to, but I did it! It's going to take some time to get use to being on skis again and getting my skiing legs back, but just as with the recovery process, it's going to be a journey. I know I'm going to have to be cautious and it's probably never going to feel the same as it did, but I'm back on skis again! I'm sure I'm always going to be a little worried about falling and possibly doing something to my back, but I'm back on skis! I'm back on skis again!!! One thing I've learned from this whole situation is to do what you love... that's what's most important. Others might not understand or feel the same way, but all that matters is doing what is important to you. I'm back on skis again, maybe skiing a little too cautiously, but I'm skiing!! 

Addressing the Skiing Critics

Ski season is quickly approaching in the Sierra Nevada. Mammoth Mountain opened this past week and I've been itching to get back on skis again because of it. To be honest, I've been itching to get back on skis again since last season was obviously cut short. For those of you wondering, I will NOT be going back to Badger Pass for a plethora of reasons (some addressed in the first post of this blog). Well, it appears that when ski season gets closer, my critics seem to come out of the woodwork. I thought I'd take some time to not only address them, but also share my thoughts on skiing again.

"You want to ski again? That's STUPID!"

I knew at some point there was going to be in influx of criticism about wanting to get back on skis. I could feel it in the air, maybe it was just the change in weather, but it was coming. It started with Mr Grumpy Pants at work. Before the accident he was always rude and grumpy toward me, but since returning to work, he's been relatively nice (asking how the back was, showing concern, etc.). Well, when he mentioned skiing last week, and I said I couldn't wait to get back on skis again, he called me stupid. Yep, I knew that being nice to me wasn't going to last long for him. It bothered me a bit, but that was his personality. That was just the beginning of it that day it seems. 

Later that morning, when two of my absolute favorite people and biggest supporters were at Bux (M&K), I got it again. No hesitation in it, just a huge "It is stupid!" when it came up. I tried to just brush it off, but this one hurt. Yes, people are entitled to have and express their opinions, but sometimes they are best left unsaid. This was one of those times. I've talked about my desire to ski again with K several times, including recently, and the only things I got were a change of subject or "would so-and-so want you to be doing that yet?" (It is well known that my neurosurgeon has cleared me for doing whatever my back feels up to.) I know that K hasn't been a big fan of the fact that I'm hiking again or wanting to backpack again, so this really shouldn't have been much of a surprise. It still really bugged me... and probably because she's been like family to me through all of this. 

While at the PT office later that morning, I finally sent K a message letting her know how I felt. I was sick of people criticizing me for wanting to get back on skis, etc. After I was done working out, I went over to K's office to clear the air on the subject. She didn't mean to upset me with the comment, but couldn't imagine what it'd be like for me if I fell, got injured, or wound up in the hospital again. I understand where she is coming from, but it was still tough to swallow. K has seen me come so far in my recovery, that it's probably hard for her not to feel protective (I would assume). It wasn't a long conversation and I didn't really say much. I knew what I wanted to say probably wouldn't be heard and would be best saved for a different time. Plus, I didn't want to say something off the cuff that I would probably end up regretting later. We hugged, I left, and sat with my feelings most of the afternoon at the engine shop. I decided it would probably be best for me to just not share anything relating to living outside of a glass box with K anymore.

I Don't Want To Live In A Glass Box

It's been 8+ months since I broke my back. I am very aware of the seriousness of the injury and damage that my body is recovering from. I still have awhile before the nerves in my legs and feet are healed, and there is the possibility they might not come back fully. I know that I need to be careful because of the titanium in my spine. I am aware of the risks of my new bionic body. I am very aware that I am very lucky to be alive. I am also very aware that my recovery has been above and beyond what anyone predicted it would be. I still can't believe how crazy my recovery has been - and it's happening to me! I know that I am very lucky that I had an amazing surgeon while in the hospital. I've had an awesome recovery team over the past several months (Thanks Tehachapi PT!). I've had an amazing support system since the accident happened. I've busted my ass during this whole recovery process - on the good days and the bad, through the awesome times and the times I just wanted it all to be over - I've given it my all. As a result, I'm walking again, working again, hiking again, ... and soon to be skiing again!

I fell in love with skiing last season. To me, it's only natural that I want to ski again. If I wasn't meant to ski again, I don't think my recovery would be going so well. I don't think I'd be alive right now if I wasn't meant to ski again. When I broke my collarbone in a car accident, I wasn't criticized for wanting to drive again! People hurt themselves doing ordinary things all the time, and they don't get criticized for returning to doing those ordinary things. The same should apply here. One thing that this whole situation has taught me, is to live life to its fullest. Do what you are passionate about and don't give up. I've worked my ass off over the past 8+ months and it's paying off. Hiking in the Sierra brings tears of joy to my eyes every single time. I know that I need to be cautious and listen to my body more than ever now, but I'm going to follow my passions. I'm not going to live in a glass box for the rest of my life! I don't want to be miserable for the rest of my life, and I know that's what I'd be if I just sat around wondering what it would be like to ski or backpack again. I want to spend my days enjoying my life and celebrating that I'm alive. I will not let my life be controlled by a glass box.

My Thoughts On The Return To Skis

If you know me or follow me on social media, you know I'm beyond ready to be back on skis again. I fell in love with skiing earlier this year and my time on them got cut too short. I didn't get on the black diamonds runs - I was planning to the day of the fall. I didn't get to do any backcountry ski touring. I didn't get the Dynafit setup I wanted. I didn't get to spend anywhere near the amount of time I wanted to on skis last season. I'm bitter about it. That bitterness has motivated me to push myself to get ready to be back on skis again. Well, that time is almost here.

Every time it has snowed in the Sierra recently, my excitement has grown... as has my nervousness. I have my neurosurgeon's blessing to do whatever my back feels up to (I'm going for a checkup/x-rays before skiing - just to make sure everything is stable). I've been strengthening my core, along with everything else, to make sure my body is as ready for it as it can be. I know that I can walk in ski boots again - I've done plenty of laps around Mammoth Mountaineering in the new Dynafit TLT6's. I've been telling myself that we need to wait for good, soft snow at Mammoth for my first time back. I've told myself, and Dave, that the first time back is going to be a lot of green runs so I can get use to the feeling of skiing again and see what's going to be an issue, etc. I've told Dave that the first several times on the lifts are going to be nerve-wracking for me. Oh shit, the lifts...

I'm not sure what makes me more nervous - how my back is going to handle skiing, what if I take a bad fall while skiing (which will happen), or having to get on a lift again. I have some legit concerns about falling while skiing, probably the same ones that K does, but it's something that will happen. Even the best skiers take tumbles, so it's just something that I'll have to adapt to and try and do "safely". Yes, I could hurt my back again while skiing, but I could hurt my back while driving, while walking, while coughing... it could happen with anything. 

I can't lie. I'm scared to get back on a lift. Our goal is to spend most of our skiing time in the backcountry, but I'm going to need to get back on lifts again to get ready for that. As the return to skis gets closer, the nightmares of seeing the fall from the lift have returned... with a vengeance. When I close my eyes, I can see it happening all over again. It's not pleasant. I wake up in tears some nights. It's something I have to deal with now. I'm not going to let the nightmare put a stop to my desire to ski again. If I did, the glass box would win. It's going to be hard, but it's a fear I have to face. 

All of this being said, I am nervously excited for ski season. I was nervous about my first hike, and it went much better than expected. We'll see what the first time back on skis holds for me. One thing that I do know, I'm going to keep on living my life to its fullest. I'm always going to have my critics, but that's a natural thing in life. I'm going to make the most of what I've been given - even if I have to be a bit more cautious. There is a very good reason my recovery has been ridiculously amazing... and it's not to live in a glass box.

We can rebuild her. We have the technology. :: 2

A Second Date with the OR

Just as Dave showed up with my GTL, I was told it was no more liquids or food time. Dr Levy gave me the option of surgery that evening or wait until Monday. There was no way in hell I wanted to wait until Monday, I wanted this over with so I could start pushing myself in PT. Little did I know I'd be stuck in the hospital until Tuesday regardless...

I had already survived one surgery, but the thought of the second one was scaring me still. Mike & Kim came up to be with us a few hours beforehand. I was so grateful to not only have Dave by my side, but to also have two of my biggest supporters there to help put me at ease. I knew everything would be okay, but it really helped to have three people I love to death there with me.

It was time for surgery. The pre-op room was more entertaining this time around. The anesthesiologist wanted to know what music I wanted playing as I went under and I just drew a blank. I remember Dr Levy coming in to see me and he was eating sour patch jelly beans. I was jealous. I remember being wheeled into the operating room and being just a little weirded out by it. I remember hearing Rocket Man...    

Stronger. Better. Faster.

Waking up in pain is never a good sign and this might have been a new level of it for me. I guess that happens when you are laying on the 8+ inch spine incision. It was a friendly reminder that I never want to have spine surgery again! Every bump the bed went over on the way back to my room made me want to scream. That night made the night after my first surgery seem like a cakewalk. 

The Bionic Back. Insane.

The next several days were a blur and seemed to drag on. I still hated the hospital food and barely had the ability to stomach any of it. I still hated having to go for X-rays and CT scans (mostly because those taking me didn't know how to do a proper bed-to-gurney transfer), but I had some badass hardware in my back now. I was still going stir-crazy. I just wanted to make a break for it... only I wasn't fast or sneaky enough yet.

PT was going quite well, even the day after the second surgery. I was in pain from the operation, but I was pretty much able to pick right back up where I left off with walking. Transferring from the bed to the wheelchair, walker or bedside commode was getting easier every day. I'll admit, it still was slow and painful, but I was doing it on my own. It was also a little weird because it felt like my back weighted an extra 20 pounds or so. It was difficult for me to stand with the walker and brush my teeth because my knees and hips were weak. I felt like such a failure at times because I needed someone there with me when I was brushing my teeth so I didn't collapse. How do you even begin to adjust to things like that? Life suddenly became a game of adapting...

Two incisions and a drain spot. Lovely.

The last few days at the hospital were quite frustrating. I was very thankful for everyone that helped me get through it because it was not easy. The combination of lots of pain killers and iron pills made my body hate me more than it already did. Not knowing when I was leaving for Health South was also complicating things. Eventually everything worked itself out on all levels. 

Finally, after days of waiting and not knowing, my ride to Health South was here. For the first time since arriving at the hospital, I had an awesome bed to gurney transfer too (why did it finally happen on the last day?!)! After 11 days and two surgeries in Fresno, I was heading to Bakersfield for my next adventure...

** Disclaimer: My heart and head weren't really in this post. The post following this one will explain a bit of the why they weren't into it. I wanted to share a bit about the second half of my hospital stay, but I am probably going to be thinking of different ways to share the progress on this blog when I start the next part of the adventure (acute therapy at Health South).

We can rebuild her. We have the technology. :: 1

Waiting

I felt like I was caught in a whirlwind laying on the gurney in the trauma room. There was so much going on around me and it almost felt like I wasn't there. I honestly don't remember much of the initial few hours I was in so much pain. I remember being annoyed because none of the doctors would tell me why they were only focusing on my back and not the pain in my legs/feet. I remember them somehow getting the rest of my clothes off aside from the sports bra. I remember how painful it was having the sheet draped over my feet and specifically asking them to pull it off my feet. I remember waiting for the X-ray. I remember them transferring me to the table for the X-ray and how much it fucking hurt. I didn't think it was possible to be in more pain. I was wrong.

I remember being put in another trauma room with a kid that wasn't doing so good. Trust me, definitely not doing good. I remember finally seeing Dave at some point. I remember seeing the X-ray image. I will never forget that image. I was broken. That's when it hit me. That's when I knew nothing was going to be the same again.

Not pretty. An L1 burst fracture.

The Hallway

There is nothing quite as awesome as being put in the hallway to wait... and wait... and wait. I remember the nurses rotating between morphine and some other liquid painkiller in the IV. I remember Dave handling the "letting everyone know what was going on" aspect of things because I was in no shape for it mentally. Honestly, I don't think either of us were mentally prepared for it or anything that was to come. I remember emailing back and forth with Kim about the situation and being scared. I remember getting a text from Mike joking about "no more cartoons for you" and it made me smile and giggle a little (inside joke from earlier in the week). Yes, I actually smiled for what seemed like the first time since before the fall. I don't remember much of what else happened in the hall and maybe it's for the best. I'll let Dave enjoy those memories of crazy patients pissing on themselves that I clearly forgot for a reason. 

I somehow managed to get a little sleep in the hallway. How that happened, I don't know. As we waited and waited until surgery, I was happy to have a few visitors. Sandy, Jenn, and Steve made several hour drive to spend some time with me before surgery; it meant the world to me. As shitty as I felt, it really helped to see them. I was on a lot of drugs and scared to death about surgery, but they helped make the ordeal easier to handle. I know they helped put Dave at ease too... or they at least gave him a distraction from what was going on.

The time had finally arrived after several delays, they were taking me to the pre-op room. I was scared to be going to surgery, but so happy to be getting out of the hallway. I remember Dave was in there. I remember a needle being put in my IV. That's all I remember...

We Can Rebuild Her. We Have The Technology.

I remember waking up in the post-op room. My back was in pain, but the shooting pains in my legs and feet were gone. I remember being taken to the elevator and Dave, Jenn & Steve, and Mike & Kim being there. I was still in a daze and didn't say much, but was so grateful to see all of them. I was surrounded by people I love and really had no way of showing my appreciation for all of them being there.

That night marked the first of many, many challenging nights. Sleeping was difficult. Between the pain in my back and left side (where the incision was), the annoying circulation things on my calves, and the bed movements, I didn't know if I was going to get any sleep. On top of that, needing help to turn on my right side was tough for me. Nothing was comfortable. I remember the nurse being really helpful and supportive, but it was still a long night. 

The next day was a huge smack in the face and a preview of the long road ahead for me. It started off well - Dave was there by my side, the neurosurgeon stopped in and said everything looked good from their end, the flowers that Mike & Kim brought were beautiful. I was having a really hard time being stuck in bed all the time, but I didn't really have any other option. It all really hit when PT paid me a visit. It all started with the log roll to get out of bed. My legs didn't want to cooperate and it was hard to push myself up because of the back pain. Standing up from bed wasn't easy, but I did it with some help. Then came the blow - trying to walk. I could barely move my legs. I managed two or three baby steps and my left foot was uncooperative. It was like I was hit by a semi. I felt like I hit rock bottom at that point. How does someone who runs up and down mountain passes in the Sierra all the time deal with barely managing to move her legs?! Not well. Not well at all. I knew it would get better, but at the time it felt so hopeless. I was really grateful Dave was there for encouragement and a shoulder to cry on. After I told Kim what happened, she told me to "celebrate that you can stand". It was true. Things could have been a lot worse. To this day, that has stuck with me. After what happened, I will always celebrate that I can stand. 

It was rough over the next few days. Dave and I were going stir-crazy. He was going back and forth between the hospital and the hotel and I was just, well, spending my days in room 904B. I still don't know how he did it. He was always there being supportive, spending hours upon hours at my bedside. When I was struggling with anything from PT to dealing the pain to, well, anything, he was always there. He is amazing.

PT was improving day by day. I went from barely taking two steps, to taking 10 steps in the hall, to walking almost all the way down the hall. As someone who hiked 10-15 miles/day with significant elevation gain every weekend, I never thought walking down a hallway would be so exhausting. I wanted to keep pushing myself though, to go a little farther every PT session. It was frustrating at times, but I could see the progress every day. I was transferring to/from the bed more on my own, sitting up more and almost standing up on my own. I was still struggling with not being able to get my legs back up onto the bed and not being able to pull my feet up when laying in bed, but I was still seeing progress.

The outpouring of support and love from friends since the accident really helped me survive being stuck in the hospital. Dave and I were overwhelmed by all of it and couldn't thank everyone enough. Calls, visits, messages. So much love and support. I remember getting a phone call from my arm-twisting buddy, Stacey, which totally made my day. She always finds a way to make me giggle. Our hiking buddy, Natacha, and Jenn & Al from work came to visit me and keep us company for a few hours. The support from Mike & Kim was beyond amazing; they are like family. Mike liked to send me words of encouragement from time to time. He's also quite the jokester too because I found out from Kim that he asked the surgeon to fix my attitude. I have yet to pay him back for that comment - there will be lots of post-it notes and paper airplanes. Kim was always texting me to see how I was doing, checking on my progress, sending words of encouragement, etc. She was great at making me laugh when I needed it and just being there when I needed to 'chat'. Mike and Kim are just amazing, there is no other way to put it. 

Five days after the accident, I was using the walker in the hallway during PT and my neurosurgeon walked by us and watched for a bit. He said he was impressed with how much I was walking so quickly after surgery. He must have seen something or realized just how active of a person I was, because later that morning I found out that he wanted to do a second procedure. That afternoon, we were still waiting to hear what the second operation was and when it would be. Nobody seemed to have answers for us, so all we could do was wait... and be frustrated. That night I didn't sleep well. The thought of a second surgery, and thinking I might have to start recovery all over again, scared me.

The next morning, the news came. I found out I was having surgery that evening.

To be continued...