SOME BIG STEPS.

For the first time since my surgery, I did something other than Pilates, the elliptical or the treadmill - I did a three-mile hike at Mt. Charleston on a trail called Mary Jane Falls with my friend, Mike, and the Bolted Bionic Dogs, Diesel and Greta. This was a big deal for many reasons: it was the first time I had participated in activity not related to physical therapy, and it was the first time that both dogs had participated in any major activity since their cancer surgeries and chemotherapies.

So here we were, me and the dogs, all of us survivors of one surgery or another in the last eight months, ready to take on a three-mile hike with several inclining switchbacks. I don't know about the dogs, but I was nervous - what if I couldn't finish? What if one of them couldn't finish? What if my back started hurting? Will I really ever be able to do activities like this again?

We started off on the incline and within ten minutes my hamstrings were screaming. Greta was galloping all over the trail, so excited to be able to explore and search for birds. Diesel stayed close to Mike and me, the typical loyal Boxer that likes to stay near his people. The switchbacks started and got rough - not only were we constantly on an incline, but the switchbacks now included stair-like climbing on rocks to get to the next switchback. My hamstrings were sore and my back and abdominal muscles were working overtime.

As is characteristic for a Lab, Greta was a champ and navigated the switchbacks with grace and ease, despite having surgery just four weeks ago. Things were a little tougher on Diesel, and a couple of times we had to coax him up the rock stairs to the next switchback, and Mike had to lift him onto the path if the rocks were too steep. But he faithfully kept with us while I was debating if I was going to make it and would have to head back down the trail with Diesel.

It was during one of these moments I decided that if Diesel was willing to do this, push through whatever pain or strain he was experiencing, I could certainly do it. As we inched towards the trail summit, I kept telling Diesel he could do it and what a trooper he was, sometimes in an effort to encourage myself more than him.

But boy, was it worth it. We came to a clearing with two small waterfalls surrounded by thistle, where the temperature dropped and a cool breeze brushed over us. Both dogs ran for a waterfall and drank some of the coldest, mineral-rich water there is. After awhile both of them put their bodies underneath the running water for a well-deserved cool off. They were content and happy.

I sat on a log at the summit, watching these resilient creatures playing in the water, and wrapping my head around what we had just accomplished. As I looked out onto the mountains, vast and full of possibility, I started to believe that this was just a first step of many steps to come. My body and I were working together again, called a truce, kissed and made up. I was highly aware of the muscles that had propelled me to this beautiful summit, something they could not have managed over the last couple years. And I became excited as I thought of future hikes, ski trips and bike rides, activities that are within the realm of possibility.

I was not what one would consider "athletic" before my back went bad. I would use the treadmill a couple of times a week to keep the pounds off, but rarely did any more than what was minimally required. But these days? I WANT to use my body. I want to push its limits, feel its muscles contract, feel the power of my limbs cooperating with my brain, and feel the euphoria that settles over me after intense activity.

I do wonder if I am beyond an age where becoming athletic for the first time is possible. But I realize athleticism is not a point to be reached but a state of mind. And I have thought of some great examples of this: I see Diesel, my 106-pound Boxer moving steadily towards the trail summit (although he would much rather be napping on the couch); I see my parents, 74 and 69 years old, skiing the slopes last winter; I think of the story Mike told me on our hike of a 63-year-old man that frequently RUNS the trail we were struggling to ascend. There's so much inspiration out there.

I plan to keep at it and see how far this new body will take me. Thanks, Mike, for being a part of my first post-op hike and making it fun. And thank you Bolted Bionic Dogs for reminding me we are capable of anything (and for snuggling up with me for a nap afterwards.)

ACHES & PAINS.

With all the attention I was giving the Bolted Bionic Dogs' health during their illnesses and recoveries, I realized I have severely neglected my own. After missing almost three weeks of Pilates sessions, I got back on the reformer Tuesday night. It was difficult and uncomfortable, and I had to work really hard to get back in the groove. When I woke up Wednesday I ached all over: my armpits, triceps, inner thighs, quads and calves were screaming. But it is a good sore, the kind of sore that reminds me that I cannot let that much time lapse between my Pilates sessions. They are vital to keeping me strong and limber, and they improve my mood significantly.

And the humidity we are experiencing here in the desert is not helping either - the moisture is attacking all my joints and I have pains all over, right down to my fingers and toes. So my sore muscles and achy joints are giving me the one-two punch today, and I plan to deal with it by doing my Pilates stretches and exercises at home tonight. You have to push through it to get to it.

As part of a little BBW experiment, my next two posts will feature guest writers. One is by Linda, a wonderful woman I met in a spine fusion chat group who recently had a spinal fusion and has recovered well. Her story will not only give readers a different perspective from my own on spinal fusion surgery and recovery, but also give you hope that people DO have successful outcomes with this surgery.

The second is by Bolted Bionic Sister, my 33-year-old sister and best friend, who was with me for the surgery and has been there throughout my recovery. Her story provides a family member's perspective on surgery and recovery, and will certainly give your loved ones a picture of what THEY can expect if you decide to proceed with a spinal fusion. Like I have said before, you cannot do this on your own, and a supportive network of family and friends is imperative to getting you the best care in the hospital and at home during recovery.

Stay tuned . . .

I'D RATHER MUSE INSTEAD: THOUGHTS ON KINDNESS & THE FUTURE OF BBW.

I have been promising a post on the more tedious and grueling aspects of a spinal fusion - the financial impact of the procedure and its long recovery period - and I do have a half-complete draft for which I have lukewarm feelings. But I just cannot face this aspect quite yet. This feeling may be related to the migraine and other headaches that took me down for much of last week.

Or perhaps it is related to the call I received from a bill collector who, in a patronizing tone asked me when I planned to pay my bill for Dr. So-and-So's services. (I honestly don't remember this doctor, but it is not at all unusual to have doctors you don't know assisting in the operating room and then getting bills from them.) When I very nicely told Ms. Collector that I did not remember receiving a bill from said surgeon, but would be happy to pay it if she would kindly send me another billing statement, she snarkily replied that she "guessed" she could do that but "only this one time."

I get it though. She was probably thinking I was just another person on the other end of the phone telling her what she wants to hear, most likely without the resources to follow through. And she probably has these kinds of conversations often, as many people these days are finding it difficult to pay their mortgages and grocery bills, let alone the medical bills that pile up.

So I am sure she was caught off guard when, in confirming my mailing address, she realized the wrong address was in the system. Her tone changed immediately, she apologized for the error, and she politely requested the correct address. I kindly thanked her for her help and told her I look forward to receiving the bill at my actual address.

It made me think - shouldn't we all try to start our interactions with others with kindness and compassion, and without assumption? There is no way for us to know the life circumstances of another or what he or she is going through at a given moment. The quiet, unsmiling cashier at your local supermarket that appears disengaged may be suffering through a rough divorce or the death of a loved one. The attitude Ms. Collector adopted and the assumption she made about my unwillingness to pay that bill may stem from hating the job she must keep to have health insurance.

But in these situations and many others like them, kindness and compassion towards another can create a shift in energy, and a smile can lift a heavy heart. Since my spinal fusion, I remember every act of kindness offered me: the hospital food service woman, a girl in her early twenties, who went out of her way to bring me fresh coffee in the hopes it would help me feel better; the woman at the grocery store who offered to help me fill my cart with items I could not bend over and pick up while wearing my back brace; the gentleman who gave me his seat in a crowded doctor's waiting room after noticing the clunky back brace I was wearing. These moments have heightened my sense of compassion, filled me with gratitude, and inspired me to practice kindness.

Another thought: at some point, BBW will naturally come to an end as I come closer to total recovery. I will no longer have experiences to post. But I am just not ready to give up BBW.  I have enjoyed writing about my spinal fusion, not only because I now have a written account of all my family and I went through to reclaim my life, but because it has helped others. I have received wonderful emails from people who have a renewed sense of hope about getting their quality of life back. I have people I now call friends who endured spinal fusions and have offered their support in the middle of their own tough recoveries. It has given me back more than I gave.

So what do I do? This thought occupies the back of mind all of the time. Do I put BBW in a basket and send it down the virtual river for others to discover? (Please pardon the "Moses and the reeds" reference but this blog, in a way, is my baby.) Do I transition BBW into some sort of resource blog with new and interesting info about spinal fusions? If you have any thoughts, reader, please feel free to leave a comment. I am open to ideas.

DANGERS OF CONTINUED NARCOTICS USE AFTER SPINAL FUSIONS.

I have written here and here about my personal experience with medication, and have also received several emails and comments with opinions and questions about taking a variety of pills to get through the day. Some of the questions include what are the benefits of having surgery if you still have to take medication afterwards, and many of the statements I get are from people who desperately want to be taking fewer pills. Much, much fewer pills. I got curious and starting poking around.

I came across some articles about the dangers of narcotics use after spinal fusions here, here and here. For those of you who are battling this issue, please read. It is good information.

My personal opinion (from a non-medical practitioner point of view) is that the less medication you have to take, the better. If you can feel 50% better using 50% less medication, that's fantastic. Also, ALWAYS get a second opinion if you are told to get a spinal fusion - this type of surgery is a very big deal.

Talk with your doctor about various diagnostic procedures (like the one I wrote about  in Second Opinion) that can better identify what is causing your pain so that the very best treatment can be provided to you as an option. Most of all, be your own best health advocate, and if you can't, please find someone who will; someone who has the energy, the stamina, and the chutzpah to fill this important role. Ultimately you need to make choices that are best for you, and for what you are experiencing at any given time.

Please take care of yourselves.

SETBACKS.

It was bound to happen - the moment when I eventually twisted or turned or bent the wrong way. But still, I am worried.

After enduring a spinal fusion and the months of recovery that follow, the potential for re-injury or the pain to return has always been on my mind. I often feel like I am on borrowed time, and that quite suddenly, this relatively pain-free state in which I live can change in a moment.

If you have read the latest BBW post, you know that Bolted Bionic Labrador had surgery to remove a malignant tumor from her leg. Keeping her calm and relatively immobile has been a challenge, as she is just internally wired to be enthusiastic and excited, if not a little bit out of her walnut-sized mind. Unfortunately I left the house for 45 minutes, and in that fraction of an hour she ruptured some of her stitches and was bleeding from the incision.

My first reaction in this case was to call Dr. Dad, a.k.a my father-slash-physician, to come over and survey the damage. I also debate calling Nurse Mom, but make an effort to balance my medical emergencies between the two of them (I tell myself it is so neither is overly burdened by my issues, but in the back of my mind I think it is so that neither gets a full picture of how clutsy and prone to injury this family is).

Back to Dr. Dad: his conclusion was that the bleeding would stop with pressure on the wound, but being as he does not specialize in treating animals, he recommended I call The Specialist tomorrow to determine whether or not the sutures need to be replaced. After a stressful evening of visible open wounds, I called The Specialist the next morning and was told to bring in her for an evaluation. To make a long story short, she stayed overnight to have another surgery to put her leg back together with even stronger sutures.

But to back up a bit, while waiting for Dr. Dad to get to the house after calling him frantically, I tried to get Greta turned on her side on the kitchen tile so I could get a good look at what had happened (have I mentioned she is 84 pounds?). And that is when it happened: I felt a tug and then a burst of pain in my lower back area. By the time Dr. Dad arrived at the house, I was laying on the kitchen tile with Greta, unable to straighten my body without great difficulty and strain. I was afraid of this happening, had worked so diligently to prevent it, and began constructing a daisy chain of what ifs.

I may have dodged the bullet this time. My back is fairly sore, but it is not throbbing with the stabbing ache that used to inhabit my lumbar area. If I am lucky, all the core work I have been doing for the last several months paid off; that when my body sensed a wrong turn or twist coming, the core muscles tightened their corset strings to brace for impact. If I am lucky, what I feel is muscle strain and that the pain will subside as the muscles heal. If I am lucky, I will not have to visit Bolted Bionic Surgeon to ensure that there is no damage to the hardware planted in my lower spine.

I will give my body a few days to right itself. As patient as it has been with me, it is only fair that I offer up a little patience with it.