I escaped Los Angeles by the skin of my teeth! Dismantling LA is one of my favorite hobbies, I know. But I would be remiss if I didn't recognize some of the positive experiences that Los Aaanheeless provided me.
First, a little back story. I grew up in Santa Monica. Not exactly hell on earth, but I left after high school and found a home in the Bay Area that better suited my wants and needs. I was raised right down the street from Zephyr Surf shop, the birthplace of the modern skating movement and inspiration for the documentary,
Dogtown and Z-Boys, and the feature film,
Lords of Dogtown. I was a little grommet back in the 70's, and I idolized the older Z-Boys skate gods like Tony Alva, Stacy Peralta and Jay Adams, who basically defined skateboarding for a generation.
Zephyr Surf is now Dogtown Coffee. They serve a good cup 'o joe at DTC, and they pay homage to Zephyr and that period in time through their decor, but they're capitalizing on a time as if it's fashionable without truly providing a history of that time. But a fan recently put up a memorial outside the cafe for Jay Adams, one of the Z-Boys, who died recently while on a surfing trip to Mexico. While standing outside and staring at the memorial, a young couple next to me commented, "Who is Jay Adams?" It made me sad that anyone wouldn't understand the significance of someone who contributed to the local history, but it just reminded me that everything changes, nothing is permanent and we all keep moving forward regardless.
I came back to Santa Monica in the Fall of last year after learning that my mother had been diagnosed with lung and breast cancer. Thankfully it wasn't metastatic, but scary nonetheless. So I moved into my old bedroom in order to be there for mom while she went through her three surgeries and requisite treatments post op. It was a rough few months for mom, but she's doing pretty well considering. Unfortunately, the doctors detected two new spots on her lungs that have been determined to be cancer, so she's attacking this news with even greater determination. The good news is she feels great. The bad news is, the unknown. But she's active, exercises every day and continues to fight the good fight.
The past year has been a mixed bag of, well, to be blunt, crap! A year ago I tore some ligaments in my back that left me practically immobile. Then mom got hit with her cancer news. I proceeded to embark on 4 painful months of PRP and prolotherapy treatments, involving countless injections into my spine with very large needles and no anesthetic. Followed by mom's surgeries and treatments, and my deteriorating back, which eventually led me to Germany for disc replacement.
Two things happened in Germany that I haven't discussed on this blog. First, an incredibly tragic event took place that will forever shape how I view my recovery. I had a surgery partner in Germany. Another back pain patient who was also there for disc replacement surgery. He and I were scheduled for surgery on the same day, and we were both relieved and excited to have someone to lean on during our recoveries. Sadly, he never left Germany.
His name will remain private, as will the details surrounding his passing out of respect for his family, friends and his grieving widow. I was beyond devastated when I heard the news, and every day during my rehab, on every walk, and every step I take towards getting my life back I carry with me the hopes he had of regaining his life, being able to play with his son and spend a pain free life with his wife and family. I'm recovering for two people now, and I consider it an honor to shoulder that responsibility.
The other, and much less tragic yet still painful blow, occurred when my girlfriend at the time, someone who I considered above all else a true friend, suddenly stopped speaking to me and ceased responding to my messages...while I was laid up in a hospital 7000 miles away. I've since allowed my anger to fade, but the sting of being treated with no more regard than last weeks newspaper will last for a long time.
But wait, this was supposed to be about the good stuff I found, or rather found me, in LA. I joined a cancer caregiver support group at the Cancer Support Community Benjamin Center. The group consisted of a very diverse collection of people, all caring for loved ones with varying degrees of cancer. This group turned out to be far more than I had anticipated, and proved to be a huge part of not only my recovery in dealing with my mother's cancer, but also my own recovery from surgery and other personal issues in my life. These people are insightful, hold no judgement and truly want to see each and every person who attends find peace, strength and happiness. Listening to them share their experiences and offer advice helped me develop perspective and work through my own issues in a much more production and constructive manner.
I was referred to a massage therapist through my chiropractor, who himself requires about 10 pages for me to accurately explain his contributions to my recovery. But my massage therapist, Lana, also became an integral part of my journey in Los Angeles, healing me with her advice and opinions as much as her hands. She and I immediately developed a friendship that will continue no matter where I live and whose advice I will regularly seek out. Our sessions were part physical massage, part mind and spirit therapy. Lana, you healed me in more than one way.
Thanks to one of my t-shirts that advertised a mountain bike race I had competed in years ago, I became friends with Henry, a fellow cyclist who works at Dogtown Coffee. I would stop by DTC every morning on my way to the beach to grab a coffee or kale smoothie. I was in the thick of the post op pain and recovery, and not the friendliest guy to look at. But he saw past my blank stare and struck up a conversation after seeing my shirt, which eventually led to a friendship, and one that made my stay in LA that much easier to manage. Thanks, big Hank!
One of my oldest friends lives in Los Angeles on a slice of heaven in Highland Park near Pasadena. Julie, her husband Eric and their two beautiful and brilliant boys live in what I consider to be the most perfect outpost imaginable. They have created an oasis of peace and creativity that I didn't think possible in Los Angeles, but they give me hope that places like that do exist. And I was able to spend more time reconnecting with Julie and her brood that wouldn't have been available to me had I not found myself back in the City of Angels. So regardless what the circumstances were that brought me back, I'm glad I was able to use that time to reignite an old friendship.
My chiropractor, Dr. Charles Blum. What can I say. I'm walking again because of him. There aren't enough words to express my gratitude for all of the work he put in to straightening out my body. Thanks doesn't begin to cover how I feel. But a never ending thanks is all I have.
It was a long ten months in Los Angeles, and now that I'm in Santa Cruz, staying with friends while I prepare to move into my new place and start a new job, it feels like my time in SoCal went by in a flash. I'm creeping up on 6 months post op, and while I'm not yet ready for the rigors of the bike, I'm moving better, more active and stronger today than I was a two months ago. My optimism for my future flickers a little brighter, and my appreciation for what I can do rather than what I can't continues to grow.
I feel like the second chapter of my life is about to begin. And I'm taking a step back, reflecting on mistakes I've made in my personal life, with my family, friends, and using this opportunity to start fresh. My recovery is going to remain slow and require patience, but time is gift, and I've got nothing but time.
Ciao for now, kids!
