Happy 9 Year Anniversary

My first entry on this blog was June 27, 2007.  I was home recovering from a surgery to install a spinal stimulator to alleviate the pain I have from sciatica.  At the time, when they said the rechargeable battery lasts nine years I thought nine years seemed like a very long time.  But the nine years was up so I had my new battery installed yesterday.  I am so grateful for this technology.   Without it I would still be spending 5 minutes getting out of the car constantly looking for ways to move without awakening that stabbing pain.  Without it I doubt I could work.  I'd probably be home on disability.  Without it I wouldn't be able to exercise as vigorously as I do.  My health would suffer.  Without it I would not have been able to snorkel in the Galapagos Islands and the Great Barrier Reef.  Without it I wouldn't have been able to touch a black rhino in Kenya.  Without it I wouldn't have the strength or energy to listen to owls and frogs and secretive marsh birds.  Without it I would not have been able to go on that tiger cruise on the USS Nimitz.  Without it I wouldn't have been able to zip line in the cloud forest of Ecuador or ride a horse on the beach in Australia. Without it I would have a different life entirely.  Pain is a thief.  Pain steals my energy, my motivation, my hope and my happiness.  I asked my doc to please clean the battery off well before he sent it back to Medtronic.  He said he thought they threw them away. He asked me if I wanted it.  I did!  This little battery has been to 3 continents and would make a heck of a conversation piece on the coffee table.  I guess it's a long process to get the battery back. It needs to be cleaned and filled with epoxy and engraved with the fact it can't be used again.  The surgery itself went fine. I basically had a one hour nap.  I was very anxious before surgery and instead of talking myself down like I usually do I thought it was appropriate to be anxious and rode that anxiety.  When the nurse asked me, "Would you like to walk into the operating room or ride in a wheelchair or . . .?"  Her voice trailed off.  In my highly anxious mind, where thoughts bounce around like a ball inside a pinball machine, I pictured myself riding into the operating room on a Roman chariot. 

I wanted to say "Roman Chariot" so BAD I could taste it but I bit my lip and kept my anxious mouth shut.  I actually have a mark on my lip from holding back my anxious thoughts.  The anesthesiologist leads the way by holding onto my IV bag.  "I'll follow you anywhere," I joke lamely.  Am I funny or annoying?  Both?  I'm too anxious to tell.  As 7 people, all gloved and masked, watch, I am told to lay face down on this very narrow table.  The IV is in my right elbow so I can't use that arm to help me get in the right place.  A huge bruise is forming in my left hand where the IV didn't go in so it's hurts to use my left hand too.  I stand on the little stool and contemplate how to do this.  Do I just jump and land on my belly?  That seems a bit extreme for a newer right hip.  So I sit down on the table and lay on my back first.  Then, with a hospital gown tied in two places, trying to keep myself covered, and without using my right arm I roll over.  Good!  I didn't fall off. I'm way too low on the table.    I have to move at least a foot towards the top end of the table. There is no space on this table for my left arm to rest and help myself up.  So I inchworm my way up the table feeling awkward as heck.  Actually I am surprised how good at inch worming I am as I don't practice that move ever. Surely someone could give me some verbal assistance here but no, they all stand and watch in silence.  I see a padded hole in the table where my head should go and there is an oxygen mask in the hole already.  I suspect there is more than oxygen coming out of that mask. I suspect there is some  happy gas in there and I could use some happy gas right now.  There is a pillow under the head hole and, well, being female, I need to get things adjusted right if I'm going to lay here for an hour.  So I say, "Excuse me, I have to adjust things here."  I do that.  There is no room for my arms.  I ask, "What do you want me to do with this right arm here?  Leave it hang down or put it somewhere?"  They tell me they'll take care of it.  Next thing I know I'm in the middle of a conversation with a nurse.  I don't remember the start of the conversation but I had to be in one.  Everything is over and I am seated on a recovery table on my back.  I am, like the Energizer bunny, re-energized and free to go home.   Happy 9 year Anniversary dear blog readers.  I guess I am surprised this blog has lasted this long.  Writing gives me an outlet to the cool things I see, the neat things I learn, and is an outlet for all my crazy, anxious thoughts such as Roman chariots.