Hang Me In The Closet

(That’s what my dad always said he’d do for me when I wondered what I’d look like as an old woman: “We’ll just hang you up in the closet and get you out in the morning.”)

Well, I can honestly say, I never imagined this day would ever come. Or rather, tomorrow would ever come.

Two weeks ago, I found out my rod is broken in two places. It’s been bothering me for a little over a year. No idea what I did/how it happened.

Friday, I had two CT scans. Tomorrow, I will find out if my rod is coming out, or if I have to have a new spinal fusion.

I’m really hoping that, after 25 years, my spine is completely fused and that I’ll be able to live the rest of my life without it (and without looking like the Hunchback of Notre Dame in my eighties). If my spine is not fused, I’ll have to have this rod removed and a new one will be placed.

The silver lining is (and, yes, there is one), my pediatric orthopedic surgeon retired from Children’s and is going to be doing the surgery, with his fellows, at UC Hospital. I’m a very lucky girl. I recently read an interview with him where he said, “I discovered if you help a child, you’ve made a friend for life.” If the man needed a new lung, I’d strap mine on him.

So, if you’re the praying kind…please, pray for the removal of this thing that has become such a part of me whole months go by that I don’t even think about it. It’s sticking pretty far out of my back at this point, which wasn’t what was actually bothering me. And it didn’t bother me until Dr. Crawford said, “My main concern is how long your skin can withstand the pressure from inside.” That kept me up one night, the thought of sitting at a restaurant and someone coming up and saying, “Um…you’re bleeding profusely from your back. And your table is ready.”

I’ll let you know what I learn tomorrow.

Thanks, friends.

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