Squirrels in tree tops

I am keeping a handwritten journal through this recovery time. A spiral bound journal that the insurance company gave me. I wrote it in Day 1, 8/30/16, the day of the surgery.

I picked it up again on Day 12 or Day 13, and began to write. I can't recall the Day Number at the moment, and the journal is not within reach. To retrieve it right now would take some major body movement...like Beethoven's 5th, or something.

Along with that handwritten journal, I may blog my thoughts regularly -- journaling, stream of consciousness, scribbles. Blogging gives me some sort of connection with the outside world...or a sense of it. I can get to my laptop a couple times a day for limited amounts of time. Texting from my phone is difficult right now.

Monday night, 9/12, was rough emotionally. I felt myself sinking into that dark, narrow, hole of depression, as my mind replayed the upcoming worsening of my limbs. Limbs which I really need to be strong enough to support my weight until I'm given permission to bear weight on my surgery leg, which should happen on 9/28/16. Limbs which need to be strong enough until my neck injections on 10/03. And my back too. It gets weak sitting up or standing. Another nerve damage symptom which will get the needed relief with my 10/03 neck injections. And my jaws and neck too, but they aren't crucial right now. My arms and back are.

(10/03 is Post Week Eight from my last epidural. Usually I receive my neck injections at Post Week Six. And usually my arms aren't having to bear my body weight. So they are weakening even more quickly than typical. I'll simply have to manage with oral prednisone boosts to keep my arms somewhat functioning until Post Week Eight. I did my first prednisone boost on 9/08. I did my 2nd this morning, 9/14. I boost and then titrate down and then boost again, if needed. I'm sure it will be needed again. I've also upped some of my herbs to help me manage. And I'm using my heated rice socks and frozen ice packs. And I need to rest my arms and back more.)

I worked with my head Monday night as I found myself slipping into "the hole."
Carol, you can't allow your mind to go down that hole. You have to cocoon for 2 more weeks and 2 days. But you can't isolate. Somehow you have to stay connected with purpose, with life. You can do this. You've done it before. The two weeks will click by. Figure it out. What will help?

I came up with a strategy to try to help keep my spirits up. Nothing new. Same stuff I've used for the last 5+ years to manage the dark weeks living with nerve damage. Music. Journaling. Laughter. Drawing. Books. Observing the little things, like watching an acrobatic squirrel traverse the limbs in the tops of the two Bradford pear trees which I can see outside my two cocoon windows. And then there are memories.

Memories. Memories...

Specific songs bring certain memories to mind, and in an instant, I'm reliving life...

....Riding my bike on the Blue Ridge Parkway with three deer cantering beside me.
Hiking the balds of Roan, all my senses awed by the magic of the scene around me -- an ocean of mountains.
Hikers I've met. Conversations. Life stories. Openness. Wilderness. Trust. Good, good people.
My bicycle rides around Salem Lake. Deer. Geese. Rabbits. A gray fox. Groundhogs. Kudzu. Red dirt. Sweat. Muscles flex as I ascend the hills. I effortlessly glide through the wind as I descend the hills...me and Olivia. I hear the gravel under her tires. I hear my breath. Openness. Wilderness. Freedom. Relief. Life.
The feral ponies of Grayson. Snorting. Cantering. Laughing. Playing. Tussling.
Climbing the boulders of Grayson and drinking in the incredible view stretching as far as eye can see.
The time I met Rising Tide, the thru hiker who had been a quadriplegic, at Thomas Knob Shelter.
The time Olivia and I got caught in the creek on one or our approaches to Salem Lake. Maybe I'll write about that story. Quite something. It happened a few months ago.
The lock smith appearing out of nowhere right when I needed him. That happened years ago.
The old van's alternator dying on the Parkway just as I was driving down a hill and able to pull into Mabry Mill's parking area on an off-season weekday at dusk. No cell service and no cars anywhere, except for one belonging to a maintenance guy who just happened to be in the main building who made a call to AAA from a landline. Oh my, another funny story because the kids were with me. What a funny time that was.
And the lightening bugs, some 18ish years ago, in the Smokies. Hundreds and hundreds of fireflies putting on a magical light show for us.
Grandfather Fir at Grayson.
The big evergreen at Roan.
The old pine tree in our back yard.
The tall pine at the rehab center.
The deer family in our back yard. They visited last week after I got home, 5 deer. I didn't see them. But Joy and her little long-haired Dachshund (who is staying with Joy in our home) saw them. It's nice to know they visited.
Real-life happenings that remind me, I'm not alone.
A plethora of memories.....

Some memory-movies come back to mind as I reread journal and blog entries. That helps too. They remind me I will recover. I will be riding Olivia again. Of course then, the worst-case-scenario part of my brain chimes in. And I tell it, "Go away!"

I recall the times I've been alone on adventures and a need would arise and someone was always there, out of the blue, to provide the assistance needed. They were just...there. I tell myself that one day, they will not be there. Perhaps that is the day it all ends. And that will be that.

I recently thought that once a person is at peace with death, they are at peace with life.

Yesterday, Tuesday, 9/13, my spirits were up. It was a good day. My staples were removed by the home health nurse. I had 25 staples! Oh my. Glad they are out!