Tag Archives: grief

There is a Serious Crack in My Foundation

24 Jul

  
and I don’t like it one fucking bit.  I’m feeling something I almost can’t even talk about.  It’s so awful I literally found myself completely at a loss for what the hell to do.  I’m a fucking little, innocent baby deer in headlights.  What (I asked myself since I’m the only one here…) in the SAM HELL is going on????   What’s wrong with me?  The synapses in my brain (due to fight or flight primal reaction) are firing and it hits me like a Mack truck..a Mack truck straight out of Mad Max, people – I’m feeling..accckkk….vulnerable.  Really vulnerable.  

Living Dilbert is rarely vulnerable and sure as hell doesn’t discuss it (except with Life-Saving Therapist who helped me figure this out – again), yet here I am filled with angst.  I fight deep feelings more often than I care to admit. Good news (I guess) is that apparently I am actually human and not always the superhero I project.  First, Main Squeeze is out of town for 8 days and being home alone all day AND night is new.  We haven’t been apart that long, but God knows MS needed a break and so deserves this vacation.  Today my sandal got caught on a rug while I was watering some plants and I almost seriously busted my ass.  Based on my knowledge of geometry and physics, it would have been REALLY BAD.  I most likely would have broken several ribs and I doubt my still healing neck would have had a party either.  It was so damn close, but I managed to save my ass.  Fine, it shook me up.  There, I said it again.   Please keep reading…

Ok, the real reason for this unsettling crack in my foundation?   I got some rather unsettling news the other day that dropped my jaw to the floor because I let myself get all comfortable with life and it’s been a few months since I’ve had a bone-jarring crisis.  I need another spinal surgery…my 4th, if anyone other than me is keeping count and my 3rd in a year.  I went through the five alleged stages of grief in 24 hours.  I cried all the way home (which kind of sucked because I was by myself and driving), I bargained with God, I denied it, then I was furious and the next day came acceptance.  I even wondered if God is testing me, but then thought that was selfish of me.  In plain English, it is what it is.  It is life, which can be so messy, yet wonderful too. My surgeon apologized and said she REALLY does not want to operate on me again and told me it’ll hurt like “last time.”  At least she’s honest and she’s compassionate and I do love and trust her.  She’s a damn rock star to me, yet so humble – a rare combination in a surgeon. I’ll admit the last one (posterior cervical disc fusion) hurt like a mother fucker. I cried, I nearly puked, gritting my teeth and the morphine pump didn’t cut it.  I had to really work to get through the days without losing my shit (figuratively, not literally).  Living Dilbert does not poo in hospitals.  I’ve learned that when they dissect through really important muscles, it really hurts to relearn to do stuff like, uh, USE YOUR ARMS.  I guess they’ll take part of my right pelvis out this time since they used left last time.  My back/neck are starting to look like a 3 year old on an Etch-A-Sketch. Frankly, I’m weary.  I am just healing from the last two and I’ll have to start all over and it’s scary.  There…I’m having feelings.  I lost my career. Life is very different now (but great in some new ways, like making a special new friend in all this). Stuff I never imagined.  I know there are others out there too.  Talk to me.  Tell me your story.  I’m actually considering a group therapy thing, but for this…I think I’d need to start it myself because there isn’t a “scoliosis survivors group” – I’ll have to come up with a better name than that.  I wonder if they’d mind if I said Mother Fucker a lot?

So, there it is. A touchy feely, yet painfully honest post from me to you. I just had to get it out, but damn if I didn’t fight this realization like an animal caught in a trap – kicking and screaming, but the more you fight it, the worse the pain. LST has worked hard to teach me my feelings won’t kill me and she is right, but sometimes it feels they will. Thanks for reading this one…it’s a bit long. I don’t want to lose more readers. I want to awe and delight, but be honest too.

I do feel I’m being led in a direction I don’t quite understand yet and I don’t like not knowing.  All this is causing a shift in me…I can feel it.  I think with great loss, comes the opportunity for great growth.  So, even though I seem to get shorter with each damn surgery, I’ll grow on the inside. 

Love – LD

220 Days

28 Dec

It has been 220 days. Hard to believe.

Let’s pick up where I left off before my life changed horribly. I had lost my weight and was getting ready to have a huge spinal scoliosis surgery. Where’d I go before that? What happened?!

One of a kind.

One of a kind.

220 days ago on May 23, 2012, I got a call that nearly killed me and my soul. Remember Best Friend? The Best Friend that I wrote about early on who shaped who I am today and that I loved unconditionally every day for 20 years? Who I talked to every day for 20 years? Who, together, we handled relationships, marriages, disasters, loves, life, some Bad Damn Bosses and a million billion memories in between? Best Friend committed suicide on May 23, 2012.

It was 5 weeks before my surgery. I can’t even begin to describe my shock and despair. I’m amazed I’m still here and breathing. I will write more about this later, but know I have survived the worst thing I ever could have imagined and I’ve had some damn doozies in this life. I lost my Best Friend. A lot had to be done to pick up the pieces of her life – her dogs, her home, all our memories. It was a task I would not wish on my worst enemy (if I had one). But, I wake up every day and I’m still here. Does that make sense?

Living Dilbert is still here. She nearly died from this loss, but damn if she is not still here.

Lisbeth, this one is for you. I hope you are in a better place, free of anguish. Know that I love you, I miss you and I hope to see you again one day. You were an amazing, kind, giving human being that I wish loved herself as much as those of us around you. The world is not quite as bright now, but I will find a way.

I am going to celebrate the incredible person you were…and therefore, who I am.

Someone has to carry on your priceless sarcasm, right?