FatGirl vs World

How to Join #GoTheDist 2013:

1. Click on the SUMMARY PAGE (bookmarking it would be a good idea as you will be using it often).

2. Fill out the next available line on the "Summary" spreadsheet.  You are responsible for filling out your biographical information (columns A–D), your tracking modality and goal (columns E and F), your quarterly goals (columns G, J, M, and P), and your half-year and full-year rewards (columns T and V).  

3. **CREATE YOUR INDIVIDUAL PAGE** (The information you have entered in step 2 should auto-complete to an individual page.  Check your line number and then look at the bottom of the page.  Match up your line number and double check that your information is correct).

4. Rename the tab "@[twitter name]" or if you don't have Twitter "[nickname]" 

5. Fill out the sheet as you wish.  See step #8.

6. Update your own individual page as needed (if tracking is too hard, consider printing out your page and filling it out by hand and updating it online once a week). The total mileage will automatically be updated on the Summary tab as you report on your individual page.

7. Follow #GoTheDist on Twitter for support if you need it or to support others when they do, to announce achievements, and find new/old friends!

8. PLEASE DO NOT DELETE LINES OR TABS! Do not SORT.  If you want to add columns, please add them to the RIGHT of the page.  Please do NOT move your page around! You CAN bookmark your individual page using your browser to find it easily.

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At the end of each month (or year) consider answering these questions:

• How do you think you did over the course of the month?  
• Did you overestimate or underestimate your capabilities?  Why is this?  Is this representative of a larger trend in your life?
• Did you learn anything about yourself while doing this? 
• Can you apply what you've learned in #GoTheDist somewhere else in your life? 
• Did you make any new friends through #GoTheDist -- were you able to support each other?
• What was the hardest part of the challenge?  (physical? mental/psychological?)
• What do you think you did really well this month? (doesn't have to be about #GoTheDist)
• What do you think you could improve on? (again, doesn't have to be about #GoTheDist)
• No matter the numbers you already entered, are you going to finish strong, or taper off? 
• Did you go the distance? And no, I don't mean did you hit 100% of your goal... did you put yourself out there and really try for it?  Is 80% still something you can be proud of?

At my follow-up appointment yesterday, I told Dr. O'Brien, that he has given me my life back.  I think I hugged him three times.  Told him that I'd bake cookies for him.  I think I even told him I wanted to give him a puppy.  I really didn't have adequate words to thank him -- I didn't have the words to tell him what he's given me once again.

I'm asking my friends and family to leave a comment to this post adding your two cents to that which Dr. O'Brien has done to help restore me to my life, to my friends, to my family.  You have all seen me on the sidelines.  You've made sacrifices and changed plans as much as I have. 

Fitbloggin -- remember all the activities I had to sit out from? 
Everyone -- remember when you'd go to hug me and I'd wince?
Weight Loss / Health Gain people -- remember how much pain I felt over each lb that crept back on?

(PS:  this is my 500th post... I find it fitting to dedicate it to the man that helped me return to me....)

Looking stylish with dad.

The furry nurses taking care of me

From my boss

Seven more days until my surgery.

Everyone has been asking me if I am nervous. The answer is both yes and no.

I'm not nervous about the actual procedure or even the outcome. I'm not nervous about all the rehabilitation that I will have to do. Nor am I nervous about being in the hospital in general. I have the greatest faith in both my doctor and even in my own body to get through this.

However, this is the first time that I will be staying overnight in a hospital since I was born. Yes, I have been to the hospital for various issues (migraines, the time I sprained my foot in two places, for my hemorraghic ovarian cysts) but I have never had to stay over night. I have also had anesthesia before: when I had my wisdom teeth taken out. So I'm not nervous about that.

I am a little bit anxious about all the needles. I have my pre-op screening tomorrow and they will be drawing blood. Yay! *eyeroll*

I am also feeling a little bit anxious about the words "advanced directive."   I mean, they are good to have for everyone. They leave no ambiguity as to your wishes in the instance that you are incapacitated. However, they just bring to mind my past. I have seen many of my family members become diminished or incapacitated to the point where other people need to step in and make some very hard decisions. I would like to save my family members from that by having my wishes commemorated in a legal document. And yet, when that form is in front of me, I feel so utterly unable to fill it out. It is so much easier for me to say what I do not want: I do not want to languish for a period of time with no expectation that my condition will improve (catastropic brain damage/brain death); I do not want to be trapped in my own body with full mental capacity and no physical ability (locked-in syndrome); and I do not want to be kept on life support for anything longer than 30 days.

Do I think that any of this will happen next week? No. But ever since witnessing my grandmother die (I was 8), I have had an acute sense of my own mortality. I think it is why I'm not afraid of having surgery or any of the serious complications that can happen.

And so, I'm not focusing so much on the day of the surgery though I'm counting it down, but I am trying to focus on what my life will look like the day after surgery:  will the pain be gone?

I can handle being sore for a few days and even having to limit my range of motion until my vertebra begins to grow into the metal plates and is stable.  What I cannot handle is if by the end of January I am NOT sleeping well, or I can't exercise. Then I will feel like the surgery was a wasted effort.

But for now, I am choosing to focus on the positives and especially that we are doing the surgery in a proactive manner, not a reactive one.

I am trying to think about all the things in my life that I have had to give up because my neck injury dictated it be so. I'm trying to think about being able to sleep through the night and feel well rested in the morning. I am trying to think about dating and not worrying about a man reaching behind my neck when he goes to kiss me. I am trying to think about being able to read a book and not getting a headache from the way my head is positioned to read it, etc.

So am I nervous? No. I am excited to get on with my life. It is waiting for me not in 7 days, but in 8 days.

Last week on Facebook and Twitter (on 11/20), I announced that I had met with a new spinal specialist, and that he had told me that I was an excellent candidate for artificial disc replacement ("ADR").  Immediately, I was overcome with emotion and said "I'm going to hug you now and again after the surgery." In other words, I told him then and there that I wanted to go ahead with the artificial disc replacement.

Two years ago, Dr. Yu--a colleague of Dr. O'Brien (the man doing my ADR Surgery)--told me "If there was a significant, operable change you'd know it." And now I know what he means.  So, you (and many people in my life) may think that this was a rash decision.  But if you've been following me for a while, or if you know me in person, you know that this isn't a rash decision at all.  In fact, I've been talking/thinking about it for a very long time.

Back in March 2007 when I was going through all the wonderful pain of the bulging L3-4, L4-L5, L5-S1, I researched artificial disc replacement in Europe. At that time, artificial disc replacement devices had recently been approved in the U.S. for use in the lumbar spine (October 2004 for the Charite Artificial Disc, and August 2006 for Synthes ProDisc-L) and not yet for cervical discs (that occured in July 2007 for the Medtronic Prestige Cervical, and December 2007 for the Synthes ProDisc-C ) (there are other devices I'm not listing that were approved around the same time).  Artificial disc replacement in Europe had about a decade more practical experience and application.

The standard of care for bulging discs is to start with conservative treatment (physical therapy, steroids, pain management) and to see if the discs would realign themselves or the inflammation that was causing nerve pain would decrease.  I was told many times that they couldn't/wouldn't do much of anything until their hand was forced -- until a disc herniated.  Until then, I wasn't a good candidate for either disc fusion or ADR.  For bulging discs, the more common surgical option would be a partial discectomy/laminectomy (I'm glad that I ignored the advice of one surgeon who wanted to operate, because the conservative treatment seems to be working for the most part (I have good days and bad, but the good days far outnumber the bad)).  I just wanted to know what all the options before my hand was forced into making a decision that wasn't good for me.

There are risks to this and any surgery.  There are also benefits. 

• Dr. O'Brien has a great track record with this surgery, and has performed more cervical ADR surgeries than any other surgeon in Washington, DC.  I think I'm in good hands.
• The benefits to ADR vs. Fusion is that an artificial disc replacement acts and functions like a vertebral disc.  I will still have flexibility and functionality (unlike a fusion that would limit it). 
• Many studies (now that there have been 5-year U.S. studies and 15+ year European studies) show that ADR surgery in the cervical spine are stable and require fewer revision surgeries (think Peyton Manning) when compared to lumbar ADR or cervical/lumbar fusions. 
• If I were to do nothing, I might not qualify for a single-level disc replacement because the disc below C5-6 is also bulging and could herniate.  This buys me some time and some stability.  It also gives doctors an inside look at what is going on with my discs.

But you all can testify to the one thing that my doctor is concerned about:  you know just how dedicated I am and will be to my rehabilitation.  You know I'll do ever exercise and heed every precaution.  You've seen me over the past few years and how I've applied myself and honored my body. 

I'm going to need you all.  While I'm not a religious person, I will say pray for my doctor (his eyes, his hands, his brain, his expertise) and for me.  Think happy thoughts.  Burn some incense.  Once we figure out if we can proceed (insurance, testing to make sure I'm not allergic to the metals in the device), I'll let you all know the date of my surgery [tentatively December 12th?], the terms of my release (I said to him, "If you can give me running, I'll give you/give up sparring"), and any other details I can give. 

But please, above all else, be happy for me.
I want this to work. 
I want this feeling of being hopeless to be replaced by an overwhelming feeling of being hopeful.
I hope that when all is said and done that the FatGirlvsWorld you all know and love will be returned to you.

― Elbert Hubbard

I'm very thankful for the friends that I have.  It seems that for every little broken place in my heart there's a friend that perfectly patches that hole.  There's a friend for each facet of my personality, or for each hobby or activity.  Then there are people that fill empty spaces I never even know existed. There are people I've been missing long before I ever knew them. And then there are the people that weave their way through time and space and return to me over and over again.  

These are the people you trust to carry the burdens that have been weighing you down ("I'm shocked you still go out and smile in that much pain" aahhhh *relief* she gets it...), or to hear out the ridiculous things you think of ("Sneezing while pooping is amazing" "Just rockets it right out."), or to just be there when you need them ("You are not alone.  I am in your corner."), and will back you no matter what you decide to do ("if you are ready to go for it, by all means, I've got your back").   I am not always the easiest person to be friends with.  I ten
d to isolate myself and not make plans.  When I'm in pain, I tend not to reach out; I shut down.  My friends are amazing and awesome people that figured this out long before I ever did, and they've never asked me to be anything but authentically myself.

 I'm a very lucky girl.  

 

1.  As of last week, I finally have a floor!! It isn't what I would choose, but it's what my building's insurance paid for.  And well...it's a floor (more floor!) (and new floor in the kitchen, as well as some new mirrored closet doors). It's a huge relief to, after 50 or so days, restore my sanctuary.  However...

Jack getting IV fluids and modeling the cone of shame

2.   There was a bit of a crisis while the crew was installing the new floor:  they didn't call me to tell me they were beginning the work of installing the parquet so I could get the cats out of there (they previously said that they could work around the cats).  I come home at lunch the first day of the project to meet with the lead contractor (to discuss the scope and schedule) and find that (1) they had begun laying down the adhesive and parquet and (2) that my cat, Spike, had walked right through the adhesive (and tracked it all over my apartment.  Did they call me to tell me this? No.  So by the time I get home, the adhesive had already dried.  I was LIVID.  I bundle up both of the cats and take them to the vet where they had to sedate Spike to remove all the adhesive from between each of his four paws.  Poor little woozle and $190 later...but....

3.   While we were at the vet, I noticed that someone had urinated blood in the carrier.  My money was on Jack and unfortunately it was right.  Back in May, I was concerned about some of his behaviors (frequent trips to the litter box) and we had taken him to the vet and done some urinalysis that came back negative for a UTI.  However, as we now know, it was a fairly large struvite bladder stone!  I took him in this past Wednesday night to had surgery the following day to remove the stone.  I visited him on Thursday night and was able to take him home on Friday (approximately $1650 later), but I'm still monitoring his recovery.  I had to take him in the night before because....

Notice how pretty my brain is?

4.  That same Thursday morning, I was scheduled to get some fancy 3T MRIs on my lower back and my neck.  Turns out, I'm quite photogenic.  Based on (1) my friend Evan's expertise with MRIs, (2) the MRI technician's opinion (3) the radiology report and (5) my experience with my own scans, we could tell a few things:   (a)  here's no new damage after 5 years for my lower back (b) no new damage after 1 year for my cervical spine (c) I have a brain! and (d) neither the best case scenario (the discs put themselves back into place) or the worst case scenario (more discs were bulging/herniated) came into play. 

5.  Today I met with the spinal specialist that Evan (my wonderful medical sherpa) recommended.  Not only did he have fantastic hair, but he was a real laid back dude with the time to talk to me about my history, where I'm at now, and where I want to be.  He digs that I'm an active person and this is limiting me.  He expressed hesitation regarding doing either a fusion or an artificial disc replacement ("ADR") on "someone so young" (why thank you doctor...).  And so he wants me to do an intermediate step before we get there.  My previous epidurals were steroids injected into the epidural space and were meant to help relieve inflammation around the herniated/bulging disc.  He wants to try a more targeted approach and see if a a "root sleeve injection" where the steroids are injected closer to where the affected nerve lives (little bugger we know where you're hiding!!). If that doesn't work, he favors an ADR procedure as compared to a fusion, because an ADR would (1) help maintain the integrity of my cervical spine (i.e., it wouldn't increase the responsibility of the surrounding discs as a fusion does) and (2) would preserve the range of motion (a 1-level fusion wouldn't mean much of a change in the range of motion, but the ADR gives my other discs a better chance of not needing to be addressed). Did I mention that he has fantastic hair?

From the time he was my date to a friend's wedding in NY.

6.  I'm going to take a moment to just publicly thank my medical sherpa, Evan, for all the help he's given me.  I can't sing his praises loud enough.  He has enough experience in the medical field to (a) help me navigate insurance (**shudders**) (b) help me find the right doctors (based on feedback he's received personally, and the professional opinions of the doctors he works with) and (c) keep me focused on the task at hand -- which is about finding a long-lasting remedy, not just a BandAid.  While I love my family dearly, we're just not equipped to handle medical issues.  Evan anticipates each step and makes to easier for me to focus on healing, not the administrative stuff that ramps up my anxiety levels.  So... Evan, I love you.  I hope the universe bestows a heap load of karma on you (apple pie is not karma, it is apple pie). 

7.  I've known Evan since college. And I know his very dry sense of humor.  Sometimes he just loves to pull my leg.  As we were leaving the MRI (yes, he's such a wonderful sherpa that he met me at my 7:30 am appointment), he tells me that he and the MRI tech doing the scans noticed an anomaly on my kidney.  I think he's just trying to pull my leg or to get me to relax after being in an MRI for so long.  But he assures me that he's not joking.  Chances are that it's nothing other than a fluid-filled cyst hanging out on my kidney.  They're pretty common and usually benign.  Most people don't know they have one until, like me, they go for a diagnostic test for some other reason.  Still, not going to tempt fate, and will be following up with my internist. 

So, now that I have a house, have two healthy cats, and am addressing my own medical issues, I feel a lot less stressed (still residual stress from not sleeping well, having gained weight, and the amount of money leaving my bank account).  I've gone from a 7.5 to a 3 or 4.  The feeling of always being in an adrenaline fight-or-flight panic mode has dissipated.  

Again, I want to thank everyone for bearing with me this past year where all I seem to talk about is being injured, chronic pain, and wanting to eat my feelings.  I also want to thank you for being there for me even if/when I have nothing to say.  I feel the love,  I really do.  Notably, I just received a card via snail mail from the amazing @coracast (who I affectionately cal "Lil" as in "lil sister" and she calls me Big Sis) with the sweetest words of support and love (as well as a prezzie!).  

I know how everyone makes vision boards to help them focus on their goals.  I think I want to make the most selfish board ever -- a love board -- a place to put all the reminders that I'm valued, that I'm heard, that I make a difference, that I'm loved.  You all have helped turn this stoic/stubborn/I-can-do-it-myself hardass into someone willing to reach out and accept help. 

You humble me with all the love and support.  Especially cause you know that I can be a massively arrogant megalomaniac sometimes.