It was a cold Monday in January and a bumpy bus ride to the internists office.
"It could be a year, you know."
He looked at the floor as he said it avoiding my eyes. There was an awkward quiet. No more than two months had become maybe a year. He was in on the allusion with the rest of them. They had all said two months. It was a big "opps." My two month recovery, the palsy, the balance, the taste, the eye, the living on disability, the lonliness, the watching national commercial parts slip away could now last a year. I had another reason for being in his office. My neck had been in terrible pain. He sent me across the street to St Vincents for some XRays. Turned out to be some compressed discs. So I did what any normal person would do -- I went home and pouted. I spent a couple days doing it. Then I got mad and decided to do something about it.
That Wednesday, an acting buddy of mine stopped by and took me over to the foothills above Burbank. We hiked them for about an hour. I still heavily relied on a cane. But I tried something new.
Running. It was after a few steps that I realized the surgeons had forgotten to reattach my brain. It bounced around in my head. Running was not a good idea. Still the hike was good. I felt less helpless. My friend and I decided to hike more. He was an actor and out of work because of the strike and was looking for something to do and his wife who worked couldn't stand the thought of him lounging around the house all day. Then it started to rain again. So much for that idea.
But during the rain, I came across something new and wonderful. It was totally unplanned. No one led me to it. I very accidently found it. It was Monday, a week after the one year news bomb had been dropped on my head. I was sitting at the computer searching through AN sites that would tell me that the doctor was lying and that a one year recovery only happened if your operation lasted eight hours or the patient also had a frontal lobodomy. I knew it couldn't take a year. One of the sites I looked to was the Acountic Neuroma Association. They didn't tell me what I wanted to hear. But I did notice a tab that said "Forum." I clicked on it. And there they were, my new family with advice and support and knowledge and questions and most importantly, caring. I remember reading a post from a guy in Atlanta called Webwrestler. In his first entry he had told of his frustrations with palsy. There were a few suppostive posts in between. Then he was back to tell everyone that after 8 months post op he was feeling zaps and tingling and twitching. He was thrilled and so was I. I wanted to tell him that he was an inspiration so I registered. I wrote my first post. A few moments after that, Phyl welcomed me to the group. Then there was Nancyann and Jan and Deb and there was Tammi who had surgery the same week that I did and we started writing comparing notes. And suddenly I had a new family of friends who knew what I was dealing with and the offered advice and comfort. And I found that I wasn't the only one who was on to the Pirate thing. This board was actually a ship called the Princess Batty Wench and it had a captain and crew. And it didn't take long before I was offering my somewhat limited knowlege to pre-op newbies who came aboard. I also discovered that compared to some other people and what they had been dealing with, I had no reason to sit around feeling sorry for myself. I started following stories and decisions and frustrations and hope. I saw Kay discover Nancyann's T3 and followed her decisions and path to her surgery yesterday. My life had become depressingly lonely at home. All but one or two friends had drifted away. But I looked forward to each morning as I logged on to the board. It did and it still does light up my day.
So with my new family supporting me I was ready to go out and tackle the challenges. The rain finally stopped that week and on Thursday my actor friend and I took on a mountain. We hiked a 3000 ft climb on a four mile course up the Verdugo mountains. We made it to the top. As I stood there overlooking the San Fenando Valley, I knew I could do it. I would recover and it wouldn't take me a year. But the rain started again and with the rain came the lonilness and the boredom and the doubt. Still my new family encouraged me. I walked as much as I could, even in the rain. I met with the eye doctor and set a date for surgery -- thwarted by my insurance company. I took on face exercises and balance exercises in ernest. I talked to my surgeon. He gave me some advice and encouragement. He lso told me something that I hadn't heard before -- if I hadn't seen any improving the first month, it could take six months to a year for recovery. He also assured me that I was doing nothing wrong. The next Thursday, my friend and I hiked another mountain, Rocky Peak, that sat between the Simi Valley and the Santa Clara Valley. That one was even steeper and tougher. I was starting to feel much better. Then that night it happened.
more later. Have a great day.
David
