No Eyebrows

So this morning my little girl, that precious beautiful girl of mine, decided she didn't like how "dark" her eyebrows were. So she cut them off.

I, of course, was horrified.

I am just very grateful she has blond eyebrows and not brown or black.

I'm also hoping they grow back before school pictures.



Before (This picture was taken a week ago)
Look at those beautiful eyebrows.




After (Taken tonight)



Do me a favor and try not to laugh too hard.

HELLO MY BABY

"Hi there my little girl."


"Hi mom. Mom? Why are you taking these pictures?"
"I don't know baby, I just wanted to."


"Hi mom. You are weird."
"Yeah babe, I know. But you are so very cute."

MY STORY (Part 6) HAPPY ANNIVERSARY

(Fall 2004)

So today is the day. 5 years ago today I was in surgery. “I’ve made it” as some at work have said. But really, my journey at this new life has just begun.

And now, the rest of the story

By three months post surgery I was finished with my physical therapy. They told me I was as good as I was going to get. I was no longer walking with my cane and had gained about 70% of the muscle activity back into my left leg. It would always be the weak leg and it would always have loss of sensation. My right leg was doing much better; I had 90% muscle use back and I could feel the whole leg except for my toes and an occasional spot or two. I hated physical therapy with a passion, so I wasn’t too sad to see it end. However the “this is as good as you are going to get” comment scared me, because, well….crap….I walked like a slow moving duck and hurt like hell. So REALLY, “this is as good as you are going to get” really sucked.

However, I was alive and I kept reminding myself of that. I had at least gotten that wish.

Two MRI’s were taken that year. They showed my spinal cord had gone from a slim crescent moon shape to almost a half moon shape. There was fluid left at the surgical site and the surgeon suspected that is what was causing the electrical jolts, but I had permanent nerve damage and permanent spinal cord damage. He told me that my cord would most likely never return to a fully round shape but that we would watch it and see.

I spent that first year getting use to my new life. Along with learning how to walk, I had to learn how to deal with the pain. My regular doctor was very helpful in this, however, I didn’t want to become dependent upon strong medications so I tried to take as few as I could. In all honesty, I probably inhibited my recovery by not taking the medications prescribed to me, but I needed to work and I couldn’t work and take care of a four year old when I was zoned out on pain killers. So I dealt with the pain.

My daily routine was hard. When I woke every morning I would have to give my body time to get going. I woke most mornings to numb legs and if I slept with my arms out or above my head they too were numb when I woke. I went to work and tried to put in a full day but by three o-clock every day I was useless. The muscles in my back were tense and pulling by then and my back hurt like a bugger. I also had headaches and leg pains. After work I would pretty much lye on the couch in intense pain until it was my daughters’ bedtime; then I would take the strong pain meds and muscle relaxants. Mornings were the best time of the day but my evenings were awful.

My little four year old girl was a godsend that first year. She became my little helper. She learned to become so very independent and helpful and rarely complained. And her little prayers at dinner and bed gave me hope.

“and bless mommy’s back that it will feel better.”
“bless mommy’s back that it will feel better so she can play with me.”
There were lots of “bless mommy” prayers,

there still are

(fall 2004)

It was a tough year, and I still couldn’t walk well. I looked at my future that first year with a lot of anxiety. I was grateful for being alive, but I wondered how long before my body gave up and gave out. I missed a lot of work that first year. I never knew how my back and legs would feel when I woke up and there were many mornings I woke up to find myself in excruciating amounts of pain and with legs that wouldn’t hold me. I was determined that within 5 years I would have to leave my job and be on disability. It made me sad and fearful.

At the end of year one I had another MRI which showed my spinal cord was still misshapen. It also showed that my muscles had not attached in the manner they were supposed to. The surgeon told me they had attached themselves to the surgical patch instead of to each other and so every time I moved my back muscles I was irritating my spinal cord. This was what was causing the intense back pains and my muscle spasms. It couldn’t be fixed without further surgery and the risks for that were too high. I would have to live with it until I needed another surgery. He told me that my spinal cord was as good as it was going to get and that very rarely do they change shape after a year. He also told me that getting pregnant again with my spinal cord that way would not be a good idea.

I was crushed.

But I was also grateful. While I have always wanted more than one child, I was so very grateful I already had become a mom and it was a blessing she was here. While my pregnancy was a difficult one, I had gotten pregnant while the tumor was small. Had I gotten pregnant a few years later when the tumor was bigger it could have had a horrible outcome.

(Christmas 2004)

Between year one and year two things started to look better. I was missing less and less work. I learned how to run, even though it was really only just small sprints and I walked with much more confidence than before. I had learned to get used to the tingling sensations and was starting to be able to ignore the constant nerve and muscle pains. I tried many medications trying to find one that would help with the nerve issues but after a while I gave up and decided I needed to get used to it.

At the end of year 2 I had another MRI that shocked the surgeon and even shocked me. My spinal cord had changed from a half moon shape to a misshapen round form. It was still damaged but the shape meant that it would be stronger and that it was working better. It was great news.

Four months later I pushed myself even further by embarking on a new journey. I purchased a home, with a yard. It was a very happy time for me. I had come so far and been able to accomplish so very much.

I didn’t know if my body was strong enough to be able to do the mundane things that home ownership brings…like mowing the lawn and shoveling snow. But my daughter needed room to play and a place to put a swing. Plus she needed friends.

And remember, it is always for her! Plus I had made that deal with the Lord that I would be the best mom I could be. Part of that is providing a good environment and home for your child.

(Spring 2006)

So in December 2006 we sold our condo, packed our stuff and embarked on a new and scary life.

Life as a homeowner, not a condo owner.

When I decided to buy a home I had a list, most people do. However, my list was based not on what type of countertops I wanted or how big of a master tub I felt I needed. (I still dream about a large bubble tub….awww). Nope, my list was based on what I felt I could handle. This is what was on my list:

Little, or better yet, no stairs. (Stairs are still very hard for me.)
Small yard (I didn’t even know if my body could handle mowing)
If the home was two stories, the washer needed to be upstairs,
A garage, so I wouldn’t have to scrape my car.

There were a few other things on my list, but those were the most important. The home I bought was so far from my list that it is almost funny. Our new home was on just over a fourth of an acre, had four stories with the laundry at the bottom level and the bedrooms on the top. But it did have a garage.

What was I thinking?

(Dec 2006)

I don’t know what I was thinking. I fell in love with the home maybe that was it. But whatever it was, I bought a home that I didn’t think I could care for. And within the first month of moving in, I had fallen down the stairs 5 times.

Since that day, back in December 2006, my life has changed for the better. I found that I can mow the lawn, and while it hurt to do it at first, slowly my body got used to it and my muscles became stronger. I found that I can also shovel the driveway, although that task has not been easy and gets harder every year.

But working on my home, my yard, my gardens, has brought my life so much joy and through it all it has kept my body active and healthy. Plus I have gained some of my confidence back. Confidence that I “can do it” or at least I can try to do it. I needed that back, I needed to feel good about myself and my abilities again.

So today as I celebrate my five year anniversary, I feel almost whole.

Yes I struggle daily with things that others take for granted. My balance sucks, I still have very little sensation in my left leg and both legs still have constant tingling sensations. I also still have constant back pain and nerve pain. But I feel like I have my life back. I feel like myself again. It is a new me, but it is me.

While I’m not able to do many things I enjoyed before this journey began I have learned to accept what I can do and ask for help with what I can’t do. And those fun things I can no longer participate in, I try not to miss them. I have adjusted to my new body and my new life.

I have been able to enjoy my life the way it is. I can walk normal now, I can run again, I can exercise and participate in some activities.

But most of all I have succeeded at what I wanted most in life. I can be a mom. And a pretty darn good mom at that.

Plus there has been no new regrowth of the tumor and no new tumors found.

It has been a long five years. Filled with anger and tears but I have made it.

I no longer feel that my life is hopeless. Yes there may come a day when my situation will change for the worse and yes I still have bad days and even bad months and sometimes even multiple bad months in a row. But I look to the future mostly with hope.

And with gratitude.

I am so very grateful that I was born in a time when medical science could fix my problem. I am so grateful I was blessed with doctors who were given the gifts and talents that led them to medicine. And I’m grateful to my family and friends for being there for me through this journey.

Here’s to the next five years

Thank you for allowing me to share my story with you.

(Fall 2008)

CREAMY CHICKEN AND BROCCOLI CASSEROLE

Today's meal is brought to you by the letter "B"

B is for broccoli.

B is for broccoli that most kids hate and most adults love.

B is for bright green, my daughters favorite color (this month anyway)

B is for bright green broccoli that my daughter just picked out of her lunch.

B, B, B,

I love this meal, yes it takes a while to prepare (about 20 min) and another 25 to bake, but I just love, love, love the flavor.

We won't talk about the calories. Lets not talk about those little things.

Creamy Chicken and Broccoli Casserole
Serves 6

4-5 Chicken Breasts (cut up into bite sized pieces)
16 oz Frozen Broccoli
12 oz Can Evaporative Milk
8 oz Cream Cheese
1/8 Cup Chopped Onions
1/2 tsp Salt
1/2 tsp Garlic Powder
Pepper (as much or as little as you like)
1 Cup Grated Cheddar Cheese
1 tube Ritz Crackers

You will need 4 dishes for cooking this meal. 2 sauce pans (one for broccoli, one for the milk mixture) 1 skillet for the chicken and an 8x11 glass casserole dish

Empty crackers into a ziplock back and smash them. Set aside
Chop onion and set aside
In a medium sauce pan, over medium/low heat, heat evaporated milk and cream cheese until smooth
Add garlic powder to milk mixture.
While milk is heating, place raw chicken pieces in a skillet, add onion, pepper and salt to the chicken and cook until done.
While chicken is cooking, boil broccoli and then drain the water.
In an 8x11 glass casserole dish, layer chicken then broccoli. Pour milk mixture over the top. You may have to stir it to get milk on everything.
Top with cheese and crackers.
Bake at 350 for 25-30 min

MY STORY (Part 5) SURGERY

“Does anyone ever get all the way to number 1?” I said.
He laughed and said, “No dear, they rarely get to 99.”

I laughed and looked up into his eyes. Then I asked my second question.
“Will someone hold my hand?”

Those were my two questions. Really stupid questions if you think about it. Most people might ask. ‘Am I going to hurt?” or “What happens if I feel the whole thing and can’t tell you?” Or geez even “Do you think I will wake up?”

Nope, I asked if anyone had ever counted from 99 all the way to 1. See, I’m even a smart aleck when facing death. But while the first question didn’t matter in the scheme of life, the second one did.

A nurse held my hand while the anesthesiologist inserted his needle into my IV, putting me to sleep. He said I could start counting….and I never got the chance. I never made it to 99. He was right.

I woke up in a weird room 11 hours later. My surgery was supposed to be a seven-hour deal…not eleven. However the surgeon had taken his time and by taking his time he was confident that he was able to get the entire tumor out. At some point he came in and explained that he had gotten the tumor out, but that he had also had to remove some bones in my back and a nerve along one of my ribs…the nerve where the tumor had started.

I had hoped for a few things upon waking up. I wanted to be able to feel my legs, both of them…right down to my toes and I wanted to be able to walk normally again and I wanted to be able to run and lift my daughter.

I didn’t get any of those wishes, but I was VERY grateful that I did wake up.


(Sharing these pictures is really hard for me...just know that. Not because of the fat rolls...hahaha But because it hurts me to look at them. Anyway, the cool thing about the pictures are the markings on my back....Notice how they marked each of my vertebrae in purple marker.)

(Sorry for the pictures, but some of you asked for them. Here they are. I have some of the inside of my too. However, since I don't want to gross any of you out, I'm not posting them. If you want to see them, you will have to ask for them and I'll send you an e-mail.)

I spent nine days in the hospital with my mom by my side the whole time. Nine horrific days. I was told that on day three I needed to sit up and try to stand. This may seem like an easy task, but now I know better. My spinal cord had spent the last several years…smashed. My body was used to that and the nerves in my spinal cord had adjusted to being crushed. Now there wasn’t any pressure on them and they were going haywire. My feet were burning, my legs were tingling, my back was KILLING me and I was cold, so very very cold.

On day three a horrible man showed up. He was the physical therapist…and the only person who took care of me during my hospital stay…that I actually hated.

It took me several tries but I managed to sit on the side of the bed. The pain was so intense and I immediately got light headed. I sat there for a little while, trying to adjust to being upright and then I stood up (with lots of assistance). I was only up for moment before I had to sit back down, that was al I could handle.

That night he wanted me to walk. I kept trying to tell him that the doctor told me to take it easy, to do this slowing…at my own rate. This man had no idea what I had been through and what I was feeling…he also didn’t know the definition of “taking it easy”.

I still couldn’t feel my legs completely. Taking the tumor out didn’t bring all or even most of the sensations back to my legs. I could feel my right leg and except for the tingling in the toes my right legs seemed fine, however my whole left leg was filled with stabbing pains, and I could barely feel my foot. There were also those issues with my nerves freaking out and the intense pain I now had in my back.

However he pushed and kept pushing and through tears I tried to tell him how much pain I was in and that my leg had sharp stabbing pains and that I was feeling faint and nauseated. He didn’t care. Not one bit. He just kept pushing, acting like I was being a baby. Just take a step, just do it, he would say. I had my hands on the walker in front of me and I was standing up. I told the horrible man that I really didn’t feel well and that I was light headed, and he still pushed me to take that step. So what did I do?

I took that step

And I passed out. I was in so much pain and my spinal cord was going haywire, so I passed out. Even after that happened he still treated me as if I were faking it. Oh I hated that man.

The next morning a girl I knew from college named Leiloni (I’m not sure that is how she spelled her name), came into my room. She was a physical therapist and was there to help me walk. I had been saved! I knew this girl, I had gone to church with this girl years before while in college. I knew she had a big heart and I knew she would care. With her and another woman they taught me how to take those steps, at my bodies own pace. And they helped me to be proud of myself with every baby step I took.

There were a lot of things I hated about that hospital stay. I hated being in so much pain, I hated that I had no appetite, I hated that I was reliant on other people and I hated that I was away from my daughter. But the biggest thing I hated was the nightmares and day-mares. The morphine injections were causing me to have these horrific hallucinations during the day and my nightmares were so bad that I was afraid to go to sleep. There was one night that I stayed up talking to my mom almost all night…all because I was terrified to sleep. It was awful.

One of the other big things I hated about the hospital was that I was cold the whole time I was there. My room was an oven (my poor mom), but my body couldn’t or wouldn’t regulate my temperature, so I froze and kept asking my mom to turn the heat up.

My mom stayed with me the whole time I was in the hospital. She took better care of me than the nurses…in fact, the nurses probably loves having her there because they didn’t have to wait on me much. I loved having her there though. It gave me such comfort to know that I wasn’t left alone for long periods of time. I loved the company and I loved that my mom was willing to sacrifice so much to be there.

And she was sick the whole time I was in the hospital.

Learning how to walk again was one of the hardest things about my hospital stay and the months and years that followed. I had gone into surgery with no pain. Before my surgery I had experienced maybe 3 backaches in my entire life. I wasn’t used to being in pain because, well, I had never had to endure pain. Not to this extent anyway. And even with the strong pain pills I was given and the morphine injections, the pain was almost more than I could take. I had pain from the surgical site, muscle pain from all of the muscles being cut in my back, nerve pain on my side, nerve pain in my right toes and my whole left leg and I had a constant headache.

It was hell. I didn’t expect this going into surgery, no one had told me what to expect after. In a way I’m glad they didn’t because I wouldn’t have been so calm going into surgery if I had known what it would bring.

Or how long the pain would last…like forever!

I learned to walk, albeit with a walker. I could walk down the hall, past a fish tank and back to my room. When I could do that, and eat a cracker, they released me. They released me into my mothers care.

I spent nine days at my parents’ house with my mom by my side day and night. On day 18, post surgery I went home.




The next weeks and months were filled with frustrations, anguish and lots of tears. This wasn’t how I wanted my life to be. I felt like a cripple! I felt worse than when the tumor was there, and while I was glad it was gone, I was angry for what it had done to my body and what I was now faced with.

I pushed myself….hard! I had a little girl to take care of. I was quickly running out of leave time and we were almost completely out of money. I had a mortgage to pay and a job to do. So to prove myself I could do it. I went back to work.




The surgeon had told me I would be off work for 3-6 months. I went back to work part-time at 3 and a half WEEKS. I would go to work, get what I could finished, last as long as I could and then go home and crash for the evening. Looking back now I know with all my heart that if I hadn’t gone back to work so soon, if I hadn’t pushed myself so hard to get my life back to normal. I don’t’ think I ever would have.

I was also going to physical therapy at the time, I was back using my cane and trying so very hard to learn to walk without it. With the new limitations I had been dealt I was scared when I didn’t have that cane in my hand. My left foot was numb on the outside, so when I was walking I couldn’t feel when my foot hit the ground until I shifted my weight and the tissue and bones (which did have some feeling) told my brain I had reached the ground. So I tripped a lot, I misjudged surfaces all of the time and I fell….a LOT. It was humiliating and frustrating. When I did finally ditch the cane I walked really slow and stared at the ground constantly to make sure I didn’t misjudge. Because if I did misjudge and I stepped too hard, or I stumbled I would get these intense electrical shocks that traveled up my leg, up my back and to my brain.

And boy did they hurt.

Part 6 coming soon


(All of the pictures in this post were taken in the days and weeks after my surgery)

MY STORY (Part 4) DIAGNOSIS

“The good news is that you don’t have MS.” He said.
“Not MS?” I replied.
“No” he said and then he paused.

I think he must have been thinking ‘how do I tell her this, on the phone, and how is she going to react.’ It couldn't have been an easy conversation for him to make…especially on the phone.

There are just some things you don’t do on the phone. Break up with someone, tell your girlfriend/ boyfriend you love them…for the first time, and give someone bad news.

This falls into the bad news department. By the way, I have broken up with someone on the phone so I guess getting this news by phone was my comeuppance. Do unto others…and all of that.

“You have a tumor.” He said

(I’m going to take a small trip down memory lane right now. You can call it a commercial break, because whenever I think of this conversation, my mind replays a scene from Kindergarten Cop, with Arnold Schwarzenegger, where he says to the little kid… “It’s not a tumor.”)

For me, it was a tumor. Now back to our regularly scheduled program.

The Neurologist said. “You have a very large tumor on your spinal cord. The tumor has compressed your spinal cord to a dangerous level. That is what is causing your leg problems. It needs to come out NOW. I have sent your MRI over to a neurosurgeon by the name of Dr. Bryson Smith; he is the best surgeon to perform this surgery. He may call you today, or this weekend, but be prepared to have surgery on Monday.”

I don’t remember what I said in response to his statement, his diagnosis. I also don’t remember calling my family to tell them, but I know I did call them, and I’m sure hearing the news over the phone wasn’t easy to them either.

What I do remember was feeling numb, but at peace. I had a diagnosis and they were gong to “fix it”. Or at least they were going to try. After I hung up the phone I grabbed my daughter really tight and cried. Part of the tears were happy, happy that I finally had a diagnosis…the other half were sad.

That weekend was a family campout. The doctor had told me I needed to wait to hear from the neurosurgeon so I stayed home waiting while my family took my daughter and went camping.

I spent the weekend thinking and praying…lots of praying.

But no one called.

On Monday morning Dr Bryson Smith’s office called and wanted to see me. My mom met me at his office where he examined me, had me do some of the same walking tests the other doctors had done and then showed me and my mom the MRI slides.

If you have never seen MRI pictures on disk before you should. It was amazing how clear they were and how really advanced MRI’s are. I have disks and disks of them now…including the one he showed us that day.

He scrolled down the MRI, starting at the top of the T-spine. As he scrolled he pointed out my lungs, each vertebrae, the spinal sack and the spinal cord. When he got to T-9 something white appeared and he stopped.

“There is the tumor” he said. He then pushed buttons that made the screen colors lighter so we could better see the white tumor.

He looked at us and went to the next vertebrae, and the next, and the next. As he did, each time he used the scroll of the mouse the tumor got bigger…and bigger. He stopped on T-11 and said. “And this” as he pointed to the screen, “is your spinal cord.”

I’m thinking….’where?’
I didn’t see it, honestly I didn’t. He had to back up a few slides and keep his finger on it for me to see it. The reason I didn’t see the spinal cord is because it barely existed. The tumor had smashed my spinal cord from its normally round shape, into a very thin crescent moon.

He told us it was a nerve sheath/ schwannoma spinal cord tumor. Schwannoma tumors develop from wacked out cells surrounding the nerves. He said mine went from T 9 to T 11 and that it was most likely not cancerous (later I would find out that only about 2% or schwannoma tumors are cancerous). He said these types of tumors take a long time to grow and that if he had to guess he would say mine had been growing for 5-7 years.

5-7 YEARS…Holy sh…er…crap!

5 years ago I had been pregnant and had those weird leg pains.
4 years ago I had picked my daughter up, or tried to, and experience that stabbing paralyzing pain.

It hit me like a train………..wham!!!

The tumor had caused those things. All along the tumor had been the reasons for so many weird medical things that had happened over the past 5 years. I had had 2 MRI’s in the past 5 years, not including the full body one, and they hadn’t shown anything because the tumor was 2 vertebrae above the range of those MRI’s

All I could think was…. Holy crap!

He told us that the tumor started on a nerve that runs along one of my ribs and that it grew into my spinal column and down the cord. He looked at the screen again, once again pointing to the crescent shape that was my spinal cord and said he couldn’t believe I was still walking.

I couldn’t believe it either, but the truth is…I really wouldn’t have been walking much longer.

He said that because the tumor had grown slowly it had allowed my body to adjust until it couldn’t adjust any further, but that he couldn’t believe I was still as mobile as I was.

My mind was racing with all of the information he was giving me. But I could pinpoint the time in all of this when my body decided it couldn’t adjust any more and the symptoms of the tumor became noticeable.

I could pinpoint it to the day.

It had been almost a year ago….October 2003 while I was walking around the side of my condo building. I stepped in a shallow hole that most people wouldn’t have even known about and most bodies wouldn’t have even tripped on and my body said ENOUGH…I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t adjust enough to this tumor inside you anymore. I can’t hold you up anymore with fewer nerves working. I just can’t.

And so down I went…literally and figuratively.

The Neurosurgeon said the tumor needed to come out. That surgery was the only way. But that we had caught it just in time. If we hadn’t caught it when we did I would soon become paralyzed and then eventually the blood flow would be compromised……and then….well….I needn’t say more.

However he was worried about how bad off the muscles were in my legs. He didn’t think my body was strong enough for surgery; he wanted me stronger so he prescribed me some steroids and schedule surgery for August 20th…that Friday. Four days away.

I had a training I was in charge of at work all week, and I hated that I had passed the first day off onto my unsuspecting coworkers who had no idea what they were doing. So I actually breathed a sigh of relief and went back to work.

Sometimes, usually when looking back on a situation, I wonder what the crap I was thinking. This is one I wonder about. I laugh about it now, but geez, who in their right mind would go back to work when they had four days to prepare for a life-changing surgery.

Apparently I do.

That week I took the pills, noticing some changes in my leg sensations. But mostly I spent the week on the Internet looking up information on spinal cord tumors and getting my personal papers in order.

This wasn’t just an everyday, ordinary surgery. I had been told the side effects by the surgeon. They included things such as: Paralyzation and death. Plus I had learned on the Internet that spinal cord tumors really aren’t that common. The statistics I read said something like 8,000 cases a year.

I also read many posts that said most Neurosurgeons don’t perform these types of surgeries. Most people go to Johns Hopkins or the Mayo Clinic.

My surgeon hadn’t done one before….I found that out later…thank goodness.

With those side effects I knew I needed to make sure my will was up to date and that all of my other important papers were in place and that my doctors had a copy of my living will.

Sounds morbid doesn’t it, well…it is.

Wednesday night I received a call from my regular doctor. I guess when I went in for the MRI on Friday, they had asked me if I wanted the results sent to anyone else and I had said “yes, send them to Dr. Johnson”. He got them that morning when he came into the office. He was floored by the results.

Weren’t we all?

He had called to apologize for not asking for an MRI of my whole spine. He couldn’t believe he had missed the tumor by two stinkin’ vertebrae. I could hear the guilt in his voice; I could hear that he felt he had failed me. I could almost feel the self-kicking he was giving himself.

I tried to let him know that I didn’t blame him. I said things like “you didn’t know” and “you weren’t the only doctor to miss it” and “I wasn’t having pain in my T-spine, so how could you know?”

He is a doctor, he plays God everyday. I guess he expects perfection from himself. He shouldn’t but he does. To this day I can still see the guilt in his eyes.

He wished me luck on that Wednesday night, told me I was in good hands with Dr. Smith and hung up.

I wanted to ask him if he thought I would survive the surgery. But there were just some things I didn’t dare ask my doctors…that question was at the top of my list.

I really don’t remember much else about that week before my surgery. I was mostly numb, maybe with shock…I don’t know. But that numbness kept the scared feelings away and allowed me to be a peace with my life. So much at peace that on my day of surgery I knew that if I was called home to my Father in Heaven, that if my life on earth was over, I would be okay. As would my daughter.

I had lived a good life. Not mistake free, because geez…I am who I am. But I had lived a good life. I didn’t have any unfinished business. If it was to happen, I was ready.

I didn’t want to die though. I had a 4 year old daughter that I wanted the opportunity to raise. I wanted to live, if only for her.

Always for her!



And so on August 20th 2004 I walked into the hospital at peace, but with a prayer in my heart, a very large prayer.

“Lord, let me live through this, let them remove this tumor from my body and make me whole so that I can be a mom.”

A mom…

I promised the Lord that if he would grant me this wish I would live my life devoted to being the best mom I could be.

A mom…that was all I wanted to be. That is what I wanted most out of life. Have you ever thought about what you would want most if you were to make a compromise with God while staring death in the face?

Neither had I.

My mom, my dad and my grandma were with me at the hospital. They helped get me dressed and ready for surgery, all the while they stayed pretty quiet and talked about mundane things.

I was worried most about my mom. I’ve never asked what went through her mind that day. I know she was scared. I knew because of the questions she had asked the neurosurgeon. I’m sure someday I will ask her what she thought, how she felt on that August day. I can’t imagine being in her shoes and faced with a similar situation.

My mom is my rock. She had been with me for the past year through test after test and little did I know at the time but I would ask so much more of her…so much more.

We were all expecting a 7-hour surgery. We had been told that they would go in through my back. Cut the muscles to get to the spinal column. They would try to remove the tumor, most likely having to remove other nerves and some bone. They would then use a “patch” made from cow cartilage….*moooo*…to seal the spinal sack and then sew me up.

(Sorry, even after 5 years I still can’t help myself. I have to ‘moo’ when I talk about my surgery.)

I’m part cow now. Thank you little cow.

If Dr Smith couldn’t get it all or he decided it was too much of a risk, he would get as much as he could, cauterize the rest and sew me up.

I said goodbye to my parents and grandma and they wheeled me into the operating room. I had already said my goodbyes to my daughter. The night before the two of us had slept curled together all night longh

I know it may sound funny. But as they rolled me into the operating room I laughed.

I was thinking. “Those poor doctors.” hahaha
“Here I am lying on my back. They are going to have to lift me and flip me like a pancake before they can operate on me.”
I’m no lightweight, those poor doctors. hehehe

I just hoped they didn’t drop me.

The anesthesiologist came into the operating room and told me he would be with me throughout the whole surgery. He told me he was going to ask me to count backwards from 100 to 1 as he gave me the anesthetic, but before he did that, did I have any questions?
I lifted my head, looking over my toes and saw all of the nurses and doctors running every which way in the room. They were bringing in carts and trays filled with medical stuff. They were doing their jobs, getting ready to cut me open. (That isn’t a thought you want to dwell on for very long) It was cold in the room, but not uncomfortably so. I looked back up at the anesthesiologist, who was older than me by about 20 years or so and asked two questions.

Part 5 coming soon.