Continued from Part 3 …

2001 Nov 11, Sun PM

Karan, the super lady who originally drove me to the hospital on the previous Wednesday, was there to pick me up and take me home. After the hour drive, I asked her to stop by the post office, so I could check my mail. When I returned to the car, and just about to get in, Karan screamed.

The back of my shirt and pants were saturated in blood, but when I had gotten out of the car, my back was dry. Apparently the pressure of leaning against the seat back was enough to contain the blood flow until I got up.

Karan immediately demanded to take me back up to the hospital, but I refused. The top surgeon said it was OK for me to go home, so I felt if we made the drive all the way back up, they’d just turn us around and send me home again. She reluctantly obliged and took me home. continue reading…

. . . continued from Part 2
Back Surgery, November 7, 2001, 06:00, Piedmont Hospital.

2001 Nov 7, Wed

Karan, a woman I had met just a few months earlier, had offered to drive me to the hospital. It was not convenient for her in the least, either.

She had to drive an hour to get to my home from her’s, then travel another hour to get to the hospital. When we pulled up, I told Karan she could just drop me off at the entrance.

Her response was a very firm, “No way, I’m walking in with you.”

Karan won that dispute as she drove right to the parking deck and found a convenient spot. As soon as I checked-in, I was told they were ready for me in pre-op, so Karan gave me a hug, and wished me the best.

Within minutes of arriving in pre-op, they had run an IV, and suddenly, I had not one single care in the world. Shortly thereafter, my life was in the hands of an unnamed anesthesiologist.  continue reading…

continued from Part 1 . . .

January 2001

In late January, I began getting muscle spasms in my left shoulder. Within a week, I could no longer lie down, forcing me to sleep in a chair. The pain in my upper back and shoulders was becoming unbearable.

One evening, I was in my daughter’s room when I tossed her comforter onto the bed. That simple action almost took me out, by a new level of intense, acute nerve pain, unlike anything I had ever felt. continue reading…

 
Besides the evil perpetuated against me by my sister, Kathy, and Julie, my ex-wife, the 2000-2009 decade was also pay-back time for all the physical *fun* I had growing up. I had a passion for life, and that often meant living on the edge to place it all into perspective. But I must start at the beginning …

Age: 2-4
Being Grounded

This has nothing to do with being placed on restriction, as that would be a bit odd for a toddler. This is about that other ground, the ground that electricity always looks for. Based on my size and the layout of the house, this has to be one of my earliest memories … which also could have ended my race before I ever got out of the gate.

I was crawling on the floor in our family room, and I happened to squeeze in behind an overstuffed chair. There, in front of me, were two things that seemed to go together, at least based on my limited-life experience.

On the floor was a metal bobby pin and on the wall was a small, rectangular plastic covering with two slots on top, and two on the bottom. I know my mom stuck things in there. So, I recall seeing no reason, whatsoever, that the two sides of the bobby pin should not go in the two little slots on the wall outlet. continue reading…