Today, I went to see The Lion King on stage. It was amazing! My mom and I were talking about it over dinner, and she said, "The opening actually brought me to tears. Is that weird?" while during the whole opening scene I was crying and trying to cover it up like an idiot. But I'm not here to talk about an idiot.
In case you didn't know, I just had surgery in December. We'll get to that. But first, a back story!!
-Back Story Back Story: Part One-
So when I was born, there was apparently an annoying little bump on my back. Two days and an MRI later, they found out it was tethered spinal cord. Pretty much some baby fat wrapped around my spinal cord, so as I grew, my spinal cord stretched and that was bad. When I was two months old, the amazing pediatric neurosurgeon Dr. Fuchs performed my first (yes, first) spinal de-tethering surgery at Duke. Nine years later, some scar tissue basically did the same thing as the baby fat and I had to get surgery again. I don't really remember much, but I'll tell what I do remember.
In elementary school, I knew going to see Dr. Fuchs was a good thing. All I would do was go see him, walk around for ten minutes, then go on my merry way. Plus, I would get out of school for it. (I knew what was up, I was a smart kid!) So one regular day in the fourth grade, I knew I had an appointment. I got checked out, skipped out to the car, but was confused that my dad was also there with me. It's not that he wasn't supportive, (Daddy, I love you! I know we butt heads sometimes, but no matter what, you'll always be the number one man in my life!!!) it was just that usually my mom brought me because there wasn't ever anything different. I asked why he was there, and my mom explained to me that I was going to have to get an MRI. After my mom explained it, I was really scared. I remember one thing from that car ride very vividly. For the full 45 minute ride, I was staring out the window silently, but I kept wondering why my eyebrows kept raising. We eventually got there and I did the MRI. This was around December, so I got a little Christmas themed beanie baby that had a jingle bell in it. I ended up never seeing Dr. Fuchs that day. A few days later, I had to get another MRI on my brain. What I remember from that is the fact that it felt like I was in Chick-fil-A the whole time. No, I was not on any meds.
When I finally did go see Dr. Fuchs, both my parents went and looked very worried. I didn't know any better; I just thought we were going to see Dr. Fuchs and I would just have to walk around on my toes some more. We get in the room, the doctor does all of his usual things, but we had to wait for a while. He walked back into the room. I was sitting on the table, my mom and dad next to me in chairs. They were holding hands. I had no idea what the doctor was saying, so I just kind of zoned out. What I do remember hearing is that I might need another surgery, and I thought to myself "Oh, my mommy and daddy would never make me do that. That wouldn't be fun." Well, surgery time!! I don't actually remember anything from the surgery other than the pre-op. I got a really nice stuffed giraffe, which I named Herbert. (That's Dr. Fuchs' name) Oh! The last thing I remember was the OR. It had Spongebob Squarepants wallpaper. :]
I'm going to leave this as a cliffhanger. Story continuation tomorrow!!
"a back story" I love it!
ReplyDeleteUncle Mike was soooo proud of your "back story" pun. He was beaming like perhaps his punniness is having a greater effect on the world (besides making it groan in pain on a regular basis). Please don't encourage him toooo much. ;)
ReplyDeleteThe opening of The Lion King makes/made me cry, too! I'm not sure if it's the music, or the sentiment, or my pregnancy hormones, or the overall beauty of the opening, but...wow. The first time Uncle Mike and I went to see it we were so caught off guard by it and were both tearing up/crying outright. This time I was at least prepared for it. Oh, and I was apparently catching a bad cold and spiking a fever so perhaps that had me messed up/not so emotional or something.
One thing I hope to be able to pass onto you is that I hope you never hold back tears. We come from such a strong family, particularly full of independent and free-spirited women. From Great Mom Mom (and I'm sure many more before her) on down through Mom Mom, your mom and aunts, and now all of you, I see this same spirit that has allowed us to do anything, to withstand anything, to take the world head-on. I suppose the boys have it, too, but given our girl-heavy family and my own girl-self, I guess I just focus on the women for some reason.
I'm proud that I was brought up to be so independent and able to accomplish anything I wish. I'm also very proud of all those around me who can do the same thing. And proud that at any given instant, if any of us does need anything, we'll all be right there. Unfortunately, some side effects of the independence of us all includes things like not being very good at asking for help, not sure what to do with help when it is standing there, and generally trying to hold ourselves into images of "perfect" and strong people when our worlds are tumbling around us and we are pretty sure we're actually dissolving into the floor beneath us. I wish we were all better at just letting the world see us broken down a bit. There is unbelievable strength in that as well and it definitely took me at least 30 years, if not much closer to 40, to figure that out.
So, although the opening of The Lion King was not exactly one of those moments of dissolution that needed much support, it's just a small glimpse into that same fierce spirit you have had passed onto you from your mom and others. That spirit may be based in strength and independence and keeping the exterior together, but the true beauty of that spirit is in its vulnerability, its deep compassion, and its raging currents of emotions beneath those still waters on the surface. So whether it's opening numbers from musicals or being hit with the hardest challenge of your life, I hope you never feel you need to cover up a single moment of all that dwells in you. You are loved for each and every tear and for each and every ounce of strength...neither is preferred or in any way better than the other, so I hope you always feel comfortable sharing both with the world.
Oh, and boy do I remember those early surgery days. When they first discovered the issue I was still living in CA so wasn't here for that first surgery and it was horrible being so far away from you and your mom and everyone. Once I moved here (the day after your 2nd birthday--in all seriousness being away from all my nieces and nephew was a huge part of my reason for coming; I just couldn't take it anymore!), the first few years I went with you to your Duke appts as your mom certainly could always use an extra hand with both you and Jacob in tow.
ReplyDeleteI would love how medical student then intern then resident then attending physician would come in to examine you. You were a verrrry active little toddler and would be running around the room, climbing on the table, opening cabinet doors and squeezing into them, and just generally swinging from the light fixtures. And then these new or someday doctors would come in and do this systematic exam with having you stand still, tip toe, walk, run, bend over, stretch, etc. And at the end of it, proudly report that you seemed just fine and all was well. You mom and I would sit there shaking our heads thinking "did you not see her scale the wall, grab onto the light bulb and do a few back flips off of it as you walked in?!? Of COURSE she is "fine"!" :P~
And yes, when you had to have surgery again a few years later, it was terrifying. As horrible as it was for you, I suppose you did have the blessing of semi-ignorance of a small child while your parents and others around you were panicking. But, as always, you pulled through like the amazing girl/woman you are and continued to amaze us all. :)