Have you ever had a time when EVERYTHING seemed to go wrong?  You know how it is...when you just can't catch a break?
    In the past few weeks, it's been one thing after another.  Never mind the big things like a trip to the ER or back surgery, it's all of the little nuances that seem to add up.  The air conditioner in the car died, then the air conditioner in the HOUSE went out too.  The dryer kicked the bucket, then water spilled over the computer.
    I believe it's important to keep in mind that life is 10% of what happens to you and 90% of how you deal with it.  On the other hand though, there's got to be a point where you just throw your hands up.
    Today I was reminded of something important however.  Sometimes, even when you don't know why things happen, no matter how furious they can make you...there really is a good reason.
    When the repair guy came to fix our dryer, he said that the whatcha-mathingy blew out because the dryer wasn't working efficiently enough.  When he asked how long it had been since our dryer vent was cleaned, I had to stop and think.
    "Ummmmmm...maybe a year ago...ish?"  I said with a smile.
    "You need to get it done.  Now."  He replied, without a smile.
    He fixed the dryer and left, stating that I needed to call someone immediately once he was gone.
    I Googled a guy and he came out today with his dryer vent cleaning thingy equipment.  Within a few minutes, I heard him yell, "Ugh, Ma'am? Can you come here please?"
     Going into the laundry room, he had that "look" on his face.
     "I can't get through this vent.  It's pretty much like a concrete wall in there.  I'm actually surprised you guys haven't had a fire by now."
     (nice.)
     He worked on the vent for sometime and eventually got everything cleared.  With the amount of laundry that we have between the six of us, we use our washer and dryer pretty much non-stop.  Thank God the dryer broke before a fire started.
     The bottom line is - in the midst of the chaos that we all go through everyday, it's always good to remember two things.
     Number one.  Don't sweat the small stuff.  Things happen constantly that can make us crazy.  Most of the time it feels like there's no reason for any of it...at all, but sometimes - just sometimes, you may never know.  
    And number two...always clean the dryer lint.  :)
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    It's so great to write the first blog in such a long time with absolutely and 100% no pain. 
     The surgery was scary to do, but now that it's over, I'm so glad that I did it.  We didn't know until the surgeon got "in there" that a cervical disc had already ruptured and another was close to rupturing.  I wondered if the pain would get better over time once the surgery was done, but as the doctor said would happen...when I opened my eyes, the pain was gone.  Nothing. No shooting and numbness down my left arm, no weakness.  It was amazing.
     The cut in my neck doesn't look so bad...

    And the drugs they gave me in the hospital knocked me out pretty well... (I was talking to the walls)

    I'm home and am taking it easy.  I'm off the pain meds now and healing well.  I haven't had my follow up with the doctor yet, but hopefully he'll give me the "all clear" so I can get back to life.
    It's been a pain to go through all of this, (bad pun) but through it all, it's been a nice reminder of how wonderful it is to have such beautiful friends and family.  THANK YOU for your prayers and kindness.  This world is a Wonderful place because of you.  XO     

If you read this blog with any regularity, then you know my wife.  She can make you burst into laughter, then fall into tears only words apart.  If you’ve caught any of her more recent posts, you know that she had back surgery yesterday.

First things first, the surgery went “fantastic”.  Speaking with the doctor immediately after the surgery, he confirmed that she actually had a ruptured disk (which caused all the pain), a herniated disk, and a bone spur.  He was confident that the procedure would quickly resolve Beatty’s pain in her arm and back, and optimistic that the numbness/tingling down her arm and hand would disappear.  Spending the night with her in the hospital, she confirmed, aside from the back and neck pain from the procedure itself, her arm pain and numbness/tingling are no more!  The surgery was a huge success.

Next, since Beatty is otherwise indisposed, I asked her if I could fill in as a “guest blogger” for a day or two.  I figured since I have a front-row seat to Beatty’s blog, it’d be okay to give my perspective.

Confronted with recent events, Beatty and I took the opportunity to reflect a little more on our lives.  Sure, thousands of surgeries happen daily worldwide, but the vast majority of time, it’s to somebody else.  Once in a while, though, your number is called, and it becomes your turn to go under the knife.  To some people, it’s really not a big deal; to others, (and I fall into this category), it gives a moment to pause and reflect…on life…and death. 

It’s in this dichotomy; I do admit that I find comfort in the trivial world of sports.   Anyone who knows me knows that I love the San Francisco 49ers and San Antonio Spurs.  And anyone who follows sports knows how agonizingly and excruciatingly cruel the past few years have been for both the Niners and the Spurs.  Both teams have come heartbreakingly close to winning their championships, only to lose in the end. 

And yet, I remind myself – it’s all a matter of perspective.  Who wouldn’t be thrilled to have the incredible success that both teams have experienced?  Sure, they’ve come up ever so short on the brightest of stages, but isn’t being one of the best good enough?  Or must we win it all – to be declared the champion – to be called a success?  What’s your definition of success? 

Then there’s this perspective: I remind myself that I’m only a fan (a pretty big fan as Beatty would attest).  And, it’s only a game.  Because for those who come across life and death on a daily basis: patients battling disease, the doctors and nurses who work with them, policemen, firemen, our nation’s Armed Forces, that inspire us all.  

The Spurs played for another chance at a championship just a few days ago.  Call it redemption or a mission from last year’s gut-wrenching loss…call it whatever you want.  Simply said, they destroyed the Miami Heat in historic fashion.   Many called their performance “epic”.  As a Spurs fan, it was beautiful to watch as the team came together selflessly.

It’s been said that in the Spurs’ locker room, is the Stonecutter’s Creed, which translates remarkably well in life. 

“When nothing seems to help, I go and look at a stonecutter hammering away at his rock perhaps a hundred times without as much as a crack showing in it.  Yet at the hundred and first blow, it will split in two, and I know that it was not that blow that did it, but all that had gone before.”

When you toil so painstakingly – in life, with your family or your friends, in your careers, spiritually - don’t lose sight; keep toiling away; keep at it.  The toils are not in vain; the effort will be worth it.

It’s so easy to feel the victim.  It’s easy to complain.  Why do I have to get back/neck surgery?  It’s easy to feel sorry for yourself.  And it’s easy to make excuses.  Simply put, it’s much easier to take the easy way out.  BUT… 

As much as we can attest that life is incredibly challenging and demanding, continue to stay the course.  Stay true to yourself.  Stay true to your values, to your faith and your loved ones.  Continue striking the stone…

To the doctors, nurses, and the entire medical staff, Thank You.  My sincerest appreciation for all that you do daily, and for taking care of my wife.  To our family and friends, my deepest heartfelt thanks for your continued love, support, prayers, fellowship, and friendship.  To our four children, I give you all that I am.  And finally, to my wife, the heaven-sent angel who took my breath away a long time ago, I adore you and am eternally yours.  Best wishes for a speedy, healthy, happy, and blessed recovery. 

    Last night it was hard to sleep, but for once it wasn't from the pain.  For the past three months, my back/neck has kept me up nightly from herniated disks.
    After a series of visits to the doctor, x-rays, pain meds, steroids, physical therapy and an MRI, a neurosurgeon decided that it was time.
    Today he'll go through the front of my neck - and from what I can understand - remove a couple of cervical disks, put something in their place, then use titanium plates to lock the vertebrae together.  The irony is that evidently after the surgery, there won't be pain in the back of my neck anymore, it will be in the front from being open and worked through during the procedure.
    I'm ready for it to be over.  It's to the point that my left thumb, first and middle fingers are almost always numb - and I figure that can't be a good thing.  
    As much as I want to have everything fixed though, I really, really don't want to have surgery.  I don't know anybody who does.  
    My friends at work were amazing yesterday and we had a big breakfast.  They put together my favorite things and had them in a basket.  One of my funniest co-workers gave me a hug and said, "I love you hon.  Don't die."
    It was good comic relief, but that's pretty much what it comes down to.  We see complications from surgery in our job as therapists.  Blood clots, oxygen deprivation, stroke...it kind of gives a whole new meaning to, "ignorance is bliss".  
    My head tells me that nothing will go wrong.  I have the best surgeon, most phenomenal hospital and the greatest staff.  I know this.  That little voice inside is what haunts you though.  The one that sends the paralyzing fear of something going wrong.  The one that makes you not just kiss your children on the head, but smell their hair and take them in, never wanting to let them go.  That voice that has you take your husband's hand just because.
     It's that voice that I'm trying to push away this morning before surgery.  It's the voice I can't listen to.
     My girlfriends Marti and Stacy showed up during my lunch yesterday and we had some friends from work gather round too.  We said a prayer which really helped.  Marti asked for a blanket of peace and protection.  That expression stuck with me and I'll continue to pray for that today too.
      They say that when I wake up, the pain and numbness will be gone.  I can't even imagine how wonderful that would be.  I would like to say that it's a good wake up call to appreciate life and all that is in it.  The thing that stinks, is I don't need it.   I already know to be thankful for the amazing family and friends that God puts into your life.  I'm thankful everyday. 
     For whatever reason though, I have to go through this and it will be good to get it taken care of.  
     I'll write as soon as I can and be so happy to be pain free when I do.  It's going to be a fun few days but hopefully worth it in the end.  

    Last week, our two older boys were excited to go to camp.  One of their best buddies was going too, so they could hardly wait to be there.
    Adam and I wanted to make sure that everything was ready before they left.  
    Socks and shorts, check.  T-shirts, check.  Bug spray, check.  We went through the list with the boys, to guarantee they were prepared for adventure.
     The one thing we didn't want them to know about though, were the letters we had written the night before.  The camp had a neat system that allowed letters to be dropped off, so you wouldn't have to worry about sending them in the mail.  (very cool)
     Going to camp is a big deal.  My surgery was supposed to be scheduled for last week but I didn't want to miss this.  I asked to change the surgery date to this week instead.  Dropping the boys off for a week of camp and picking them up meant a lot to us.  It's seeing them go through a right of passage of sorts.     
     It almost didn't matter.
     As the six of us piled into the car, Adam grabbed the keys and looked over saying, "I just want to make one last check to make sure we have everything.  Once the boys are at camp, they'll be out of contact so I don't want to forget anything."  He then gestured like he was writing a note, letting me know he wanted to make sure the letters to the boys were packed.  Adam was worried that if we mailed them, they wouldn't get to the kids on time. 
     He went back into the house and I stayed with the kids.  We waited...and waited...until the door flew open and Adam's eyes were as wide as I've ever seen them.
      His face looked strange and I thought he said, "I broke my ankle." 
      I smiled thinking he was joking and waved for him to come on.  
     "I BROKE MY ANKLE!"
     The color began to leave his cheeks.  I opened the car door and shot to him, then looked down.  His left ankle was already swollen to an unnatural state.
      Adam slid down to the floor and put his hands over his face.  "Is it bad?  Is the bone sticking out?"
      "No the bone isn't sticking out but we need to go.  Let's get to the Emergency Room."
      Helping him hop to the passenger side, the kids began to clamor around to see. 
      "Guys, sit back down.  We're going to the hospital."
      Our five year old daughter got worried and whimpered, "Is daddy going to get a shot?  His foot looks weird"
      My head began to spin.  What if it was broken?  What if he needed to have surgery?  
      I grabbed my phone knowing that we'd be in the ER for awhile.  The boy's friend that was going to camp, was the son of one of my best friends.  I dialed her number and tried to keep it together.
     "Marti?"
     "Yes!  Are you guys getting ready to leave?"
     "Not exactly.  Would there be anyway the boys could go with you to camp?  I need to run Adam to the hospital."
     "WHAT?!  What happened?  What hospital?  I'll come get them or meet you wherever you want!  WHAT'S GOING ON?!"
     I didn't even know what to say.  I still didn't know what he had done.  One minute he was running into the house - and the next, well.
     I told Marti where we were going and she said she'd be there waiting.
    Putting the car into reverse, I flew out of the garage and spun the car around Dukes of Hazard style.
     Shooting a look towards Adam, I heard myself ask, "What happened?!"
     Adam winced as I turned the corner.  "I was in a hurry and ran down the stairs.  I missed the last few steps to jump down to the bottom.  I meant to turn right, but my ankle evidently decided to go in the opposite direction.  I felt and heard it pop and the next thing I knew, I was down."      
      My stomach turned as I thought of the pain, but I tried to keep a straight face. 
      As soon as we found a spot in the hospital parking lot, sure enough, Marti was there waiting.  She ran up to the car with a wheelchair and looked down at his ankle.  It was getting bigger.  
     Marti rushed him in and I stayed with the kids.  When she came back out, we hugged.  It was the first chance I had to take a second to think.  
     I whispered, "I can't cry.  The kids can't see me cry, so I have to keep it together.  I don't want them to worry when they go off to camp."
     "I know.  It's going to be okay."  Marti gave me a tighter squeeze and said a prayer.  
     We pulled everything from the back of our car that was packed for camp and loaded it into hers. 
     Hugging the two boys, I put on the strongest front possible and told them what a great time they were going to have. 
     "But what about Dad?"
     "Dad will be fine guys.  Don't you worry a thing.  He's strong and tough.  He'll be okay.  You boys just go have fun, okay?"
     I hugged them one last time and fought back the tears.  This wasn't the way it was supposed to be.  There wasn't any time though.   
     Marti piled the boys in her car and I waved bye.  Taking the little hands of our younger two, we three ran into the hospital.  
     A nice woman at the front desk calmly said, "Your husband is waiting in room 17."
     I whispered "Thank you," and shot through the doors.  
     Finding Adam, I rambled, "What do the x-rays say?  Is it broken?  Are you okay?"
     Adam shook his head.  "They haven't done any x-rays yet.  I'm still waiting."     

     I lifted the ice pack to see what it looked like.

     It was still swelling.  We waited for the doctor.  A younger looking guy eventually came and took Adam back for his x-rays, then returned a little while later.  We sat and waited some more.

     Eventually, another person came back and said, "Congratulations, it's not broken.  You've got a really bad sprain there, so stay off of it for at least a week or so."
     Adam's smile grew a mile wide.  "Let's go see the boys."
     "WHAT?!  They're already gone!  Marti took them."
     "I know.  I still want to go though.  I'll feel better knowing they're okay and that they're not wondering what happened."
     I called Marti.  She said she and her husband were still on their way to the camp.  She smiled and said they were all having fun. 
     Explaining the latest, I told her that we would be following behind. 
     I love Adam for the dad that he is.  We did eventually make it to the camp and he hopped on his crutches until we found the boys by the lake. 

     It was good to see them and know they were settling in.  The camp was the coolest place ever and the boys seemed to be excited to be there.

    The week ended up being great and the boys went nonstop about it when we picked them up, telling new jokes and laughing on and on.  
     The bad part was, Adam's ankle got to be as ugly as it could be. 

     I'm still trying to talk him into going to see a doctor but he wants to give it some more time.  men.
     Needless to say, we're going to look like a Motley crew going to the hospital this week for surgery.  Me holding my back and Adam gimping along.  I'll be thankful for the day when we're all put back together. 
     For now though...I'm glad the boys are home and they had a good time at camp.  Next year though, I think we'll just use the mail.        
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    It's a day to celebrate fathers.  Facebook will be lined with pictures of dads and grandpas.  I posted this one to my dad last night. 

     Today will be filled with fond memories and loving photos.  But what about the other ones?  The pictures that don't exist from the times that truly define the quality of a father.
     When I was going into the eighth grade, all I wanted to do was be a cheerleader.  I had already tried softball and basketball...and I was horrible.  My best friends cheered so I desperately wanted to be with them.  My dad agreed to work with me and spent countless numbers of hours in the back yard spotting me for my back hand spring. 
    I'd hit him hundreds of times as I threw myself backwards, nearly knocking him over.  He stayed with me though. 
     When the day finally came, I gave it my best.  I'd learned every cheer, every chant and the dance routine.  When asked if I could throw a back hand spring, I took a deep breath and threw it.  It wasn't pretty, but I made it over.
     When try outs were done, the judges asked all of us to wait outside as they tallied the scores.  In what seemed like an eternity, the list was finally posted.  My friends and I gathered as our fingers fled down the page to every single name.  Theirs were all there.  Mine was not.  As they began to scream and hug, I congratulated them and turned to go.  A pit in my stomach like I had never felt, grew until I began to cry so hard, my parents could do nothing but hold me. 
     My dad simply said.  "You tried.  You did your best.  You can either quit and never try again, or you can work harder and get it next year."
     He continued to work with me and I did make it the next year in high school, then went on to cheer through my senior year of college.
     There are no pictures of that day though.  The day that I was crushed and my dad held me as I cried.  There are no pictures of the time I was sixteen and had to tell him that because I tried to back the car out of the garage, I ran straight into the garage door instead.  There are no pictures of him consoling me from a broken heart from the guy that I "knew" was the one. 
    There are no pictures of the two of us standing behind closed doors as a church was filled, waiting for us to come through.  Those pictures don't exist.  
     Those are the pictures that are taken with the heart, not a camera.  Those are the memories that define who you are and what a dad means to you. 
     For those pictures that don't exist, I thank you dad.  Thank you for guiding me and teaching me through life's ups and downs...and by the way, I really am sorry about the garage.  :) 
                   Happy Father's Day 
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     Adam and I went for a consultation with the Neurosurgeon yesterday.  My mom watched the kids so we were able to focus during the appointment.  It almost felt like a date.
     When the doctor pulled up the images of my MRI, Adam's eyes popped out.  The disks are really out pretty far.  The surgeon explained how he wanted to go through the front right part of my neck and work on the area.  He was very thorough in his description which was both a good and bad thing.  I didn't realize how much he would have to push everything aside in my throat to have an open working area.  I've been worried about the back of my neck, so I hadn't thought much about the front.
      In the end, there would be a little scar on my neck which I'm okay with.  I've always thought that scars were kind of cool for the most part.  
     After weighing the pros and cons with the level of pain and weakness through my back and left arm, we went ahead and set a date. 
     I'm equal parts freaking out about it and relieved at the same time.  Of course I don't want anything to go wrong, but I can't imagine actually being free from the pain.
     You know that kid who brakes his arm at the beginning of summer and can't go swimming because he has to wear a cast?  Yea, I kind of feel like that kid.  I can only hope this is the right decision though - and that everything will work out fine.  
     I hope that in no time at all, I'll be able to jump off of that diving board - and who knows?  Maybe I'll even throw a cannonball.   
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    Maxi dress, oh maxi dress.  How I love thee so.  You flow freely in the Spring and dance calmly in the Summer.  No heat or humidity can dampen your cool grace.
    Maxi dress, oh maxi dress.  I count on you each day.  When shorts are too tight and unforgiving, you spoil me with your kindness and ease.  You hold no grudge against me, nor ill will or taut nature.  Simplicity and happiness are yours, to greet the warmth of the golden sun. 
    Maxi dress, oh maxi dress, please never out of style go.  I would cry a thousand cries and mourn your comfortable embrace.  Then run to find solace in your sister...the yoga pants. 
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