Back from the "dead"

Ok, Ok, Ok...I didn't really die, but there were times...

Since my last entry I have gone through two back surgeries, neither of which were major (according to the surgeon). Let me just say that if I put two sets of screws and a cage in his spine, and 4 weeks later put in four more screws to mend a stress fracture (all without anaesthesia) he would consider it major! I'm just kidding about the anaesthesia, but still.

I'm 2 1/2 months out from the second surgery, and I'm to the point of walking without any aids (walker, people's arms, walls, etc). One of my loving daughters said my gait was "Weebles wobble, but they don't fall down" lol But I'm getting better.

I have to get a little mushy here...If it weren't for my wonderful husband, our three wonderful daughters, and their wonderful families (did I mention they're all wonderful?), I would not be sitting here. Speaking of sitting, the picture is of the grandkiddos and me on Father's Day. It was the first time I was able to sit up for any length of time.

Talk to you later.

PS

I have to add a ps to the last blog...

One of the things (I'm just going to call them doctor and nurse from now on. I'm not dizzy anymore, and I can watch tv, play computer games, and walk around without holding on to the wall) the doctor and nurse both emphasized was to drink plenty of water to rehydrate my brain and to FLUSH THE DYE FROM MY BODY. They said to drink plenty of water until MY URINE WAS CLEAR. I was so worried about that that I drank over 20 oz of water during the first hour home. That might not seem like much to a regular "water drinker", but to me it was, "try not to throw up from drinking so much water" seriously.

Well, every time I went to the bathroom, I would check my urine...clear, clear, clear. I was worried. I kept waiting to see some color in the toilet. I didn't know what color the dye was, but I was sure you would be able to see it. Finally about 4 o'clock I called the nurse. In a very patient, but amused voice, she said, "Ms. Causey, the dye is colorless. We meant we wanted your urine to be clear not ...wait for it....yellow from lack hydration".

To make matters worse, my formally beloved husband said, "I didn't know you were waiting to see the dye".

That's it. I'm over the test. Life goes on!

The Joys of a Myelogram

A Myelogram, for anyone who doesn't know is:

Myelogram - an ancient torture device brought back to the 21st century to make us appreciate that torture is illegal (unless you happen to find Gitmo).

Actually, it's a test to check spinal blockage by injecting dye into your spine and then taking pictures of it. I got to do this yesterday. The doctor was kinda cute, used a tiny needle and was kind. He could afford to be kind because he had Nurse Ratchet (sp? It's Ratched, I just looked it up) to do the dirty work. She was very pretty, had a sweet little voice, and was the master of pain, well, not so much pain, I guess. I'll let you be the judge.

The doctor injected the dye and left the room, and with her sweet little voice, Nurse Ratchet said, "Ms. Causey, I need you to make three 360 degree turns on this "bed" (it was a platform about three feet wide) so the dye can get sloshed around. If I had known then what I know now, I would have said, "Just stick a chopstick in there and stir it around." Ahh, hindsight.

Now if anyone out there knows me (my daughter, my sister, my niece), you know that I get dizzy at the drop of the proverbial hat. People, it was the last time I walked alone yesterday. I slept with a wet towel pressed to my forehead. I don't know why that helps. Don't misunderstand me, I can lie in the bed all day with the best of them, playing games on my computer, watching TV, eating whatever Jimmy brings me, BUT I couldn't play games, watch TV, or eat! Everything made me dizzy. I STILL can't watch TV or play games. What the hell is that about? Yesterday I couldn't even stand to have Jimmy in the room. The only sound I could really tolerate was (get ready to impressed) a video of Pavarotti singing "Nessum Dorma". I tried a Neil Diamond and a Kid Rock, but no. The only reason I needed some noise in the room is because Maggy, our spoiled brat poodle who sleeps in my room during the day, breathes louder than Jimmy and I put together!

In closing, I don't stay in bed all day very often. Just when things refuse to work correctly.

Another bird story

I know, I know, I know. Enough with the birds already. I would agree with you, but my birds ARE cuter than everybody else's birds.

So ANYway...the other day I was looking out my bedroom window, and I noticed a small gray striped bird hopping around in the flower bed. I probably wouldn't have given him another thought, since he looked like one of the common sparrows that hang around our feeders all day. But then I noticed that it looked like he had gotten into some bright yellow paint. It sounds silly now, but at the time, that's what I thought. I grabbed my camera, took some pictures of him, and then called my husband.

Of course, eagle eye (no pun intended) that he is, he realized that big yellow spot was yellow feathers. So without further ado...

The pictures were taken through the window since it was quite chilly out, but you get the idea. I almost forgot...Our new visitor is a Yellow Rumped Warbler. He, like the Ruby Crested Kinglet is a migrator also. They make me hope Punxsutawney Phil is right, and there'll be six more weeks of winter.

Third Opinion

Tuesday the girls and I went for the third opinion. I won't mention the dr's name, but suffice it to say...He was full of himself. He's one of those men who pretend to be controlled by the women in his life.

His wife "makes" him take a week off every 6 to 8 weeks to watch Sesame Street with his three year old daughter (he said he was an old dad - 52). He said he didn't schedule anything. His assistant told him when he was going to do what. Now I'm sure that it took a lot of training to get the women in his life to tell him what to do, and I'm also sure that he has gone through several women before he found the ones that told him what he wanted them to tell him. If you know what I mean. Having said all of that, I guess that's the kind of "god-like" quality you want in a surgeon.

Seriously, he said "Here's the problem, and here's what you do about it". He also said that he had preformed the same surgery on one of his partner's dad who is 94 a year ago, and now he's back gardening. He also said he and his partners do over 300 of these surgeries a year. He also said that this was one of the routine surgeries that he does. He also said that I would be able to play the piano after the operation. Just kidding!

I'm going for a test Monday for him, and a stress test for my regular doctor. Then I guess his assistant schedules the surgery. Hopefully we'll know something in a week or so.

Thanks for listening, y'all!

Cross your fingers

Well, tomorrow Tam, HJ, and I go to get the third opinion from another spine guy. In case one of my MANY, MANY readers doesn't know the story...Sometime during my long and happy life (while I was apparently not paying attention) the little bones that interlock to keep my spine in place took a long vacation and allowed one of my unruly vertebrae to escape to a place where it can come and go as it pleases. The nerves (jealous of that freedom, I suppose) throw big fits when the vertebra barely touches them. I know this because every time they touch, I feel it. One of the "fun" parts is that there is different pain and different locations depending on the nerve that is aggravated. The truly frustrating part is that the pain is unpredictable.

Take tonight, for example. I was in bed for a couple of hours earlier in the evening, and now I can get up with very little pain. That means I can finish my washing and fix my dinner (what Jimmy and I eat at night is a VERY lose interpretation of the word "dinner", but at our ages...). Last night Jimmy had to bring me something to the bed. Sometime we can go to lunch, and sometime we have to turn around and go back home.

The reason for the third opinion is that one surgeon told me that my bones were too soft to hold the screws, and a second surgeon said he could do it. The man I'm going to see tomorrow is Dr. Kurt Von Rueden. He sounds important and smart, right?

I'll let my MANY, MANY readers what he says tomorrow.

Sixth folder / sixth picture

This is a picture of Jimmy, as Danny, in Grease. He's dancing with some girl that someone else took to the dance. Of course, his MawMaw thought he was better than John Travolta.