To everything, turn, turn, turn

There is a season, turn, turn, turn.

So, 9 months. The time it takes to give birth, finish a school year, or read War and Peace. That's how long, as of today, that I went under the knife. And day by day I get an ounce stronger and a measure happier.

As with everything in life, there's room for improvement. The health of my family could be far better. Certain close friends could be struggling less. The grand jury could have returned with a just verdict in Ferguson. But this is the real world, and life isn't always just.

I've also been dealing with a pinch of survivors guilt lately. If you've been reading my blog you will understand why. But it goes a little deeper than that. As my mother and uncle's health deteriorates (my uncle is struggling after a liver transplant), and I finally start to see improvements in my health, it's difficult for me to temper my optimism and happiness. But everything in life is a compromise, a balancing act, I guess. So I choose to appreciate what I have, while I have it.

When I first lived in Santa Cruz a generation ago I became friends with Matt during our first semester at Cabrillo College. We were in the same creative writing class where we pieced together overly saturated words hoping to charm women with deep poetry and brooding short stories. He was the far better writer, and we embarked on a years-long battle for the attention of teachers we both had crushes on with our tortured prose. We've always remained in touch over the years, and despite any distance or time apart we made sure to reconnect and catch each other up on life's trials and tribulations. He moved back to Santa Cruz last year, eventually convincing his soon-to-be wife (not a lot of arm twisting there) to join him, along with her three kids, so he could be closer to his family and his young son. That and who wouldn't want to live in Santa Cruz, I mean seriously.

There were three places on my list of destinations - Lake Tahoe, Bend, Oregon, and Santa Cruz. Santa Cruz eventually won out based in large part to the close friends I had who already lived here, not the least of which are Matt and Jen. Since moving back we've spent more time together in the past three months than we have in the past three years, and I've had the opportunity to play uncle to his beautiful son, Benjamin (love that kid!). I've also managed to sucker Matt and Jen into early morning workouts overlooking the ocean, which they are crushing by the way. I'm determined to have these two lean and ripped by the big day.

Welcome to the gun show!

Feel the burn!

Yeah, Santa Cruz doesn't suck.

One of my favorite things in life is seeing people reach a goal - get stronger, get smarter, basically just attempt new things. Succeeding at something, no matter how small that success might feel at that moment...it makes me feel good to see the sense of pride in the face of the person stepping outside their comfort zone.

No matter where I might be a year from now, 10 years from now, I'm grateful to have this time in my life to share with good friends, and I plan to appreciate every moment and look back with not a shred of regret.

Sometimes life kicks you in the stomach. You've got a choice - You can lay down and curl up in the dirt, or you can kick back and say, "That all you got?" 

To kicking back, my friends.

I can't get no...Satisfaction!

A few months ago, my incredibly talented and beautiful cousin Fanny and I were talking about what it takes to feel satisfied and generally happy in life. She and I both subscribe to the 'less is more' philosophy when it comes to the 'things' we're told from an early age that we need in order to feel satisfied.

Owning a big home, driving a slick car, or having a lot of money mean little to me. I don't care about collecting stuff or having more than I need. OK, I don't need 5 bicycles, but it's better than 5 cars! But Fanny said something during our conversation concerning what it means to be satisfied that I'll never forget. I'm paraphrasing, but she basically said if a scientist is always satisfied s/he might not strive to discover cures for diseases. If an engineer is always satisfied we might never have planes that can transport people around the world at 40,000 feet. If athletes are always satisfied we'd never see what's possible with the human body.

After absorbing this nugget I realized that satisfaction is fluid, it's a philosophy, open to interpretation, and something I need to hold onto with a looser grip. I also realized that being unsatisfied with things is OK, it's normal, especially where my recovery is concerned. It doesn't mean I can't celebrate small victories along the way, and I can be happy with my progress, but being less than satisfied is what's going to motivate me to continue moving forward.

My ultimate goal since day one has been getting back on the bike. Once I can pedal with intent, I'll be satisfied, or at least that's what I've been telling myself. But I know when (not if) that day comes I'll probably look towards something else just beyond my reach.

I'm 10 days shy of 9 months post op, and I'm having a much easier time navigating life these days. Where I really feel a difference are in basic movements that we all take for granted. A year ago when I opened the fridge I had to be careful how I bent over to pull out a quart of almond milk. One false move and a few friendly volts of electricity might surge across my low back forcing me to go to one knee. But these days I'm bending, twisting, rolling around with relative ease. I don't have to think before bending down to grab a shoe, and lifting slightly heavy objects has become a non-event. There's still that ever-present tightness, but the sharp pain is a memory.

On halloween a friend of mine got married (to another friend), and she asked me to walk her down the aisle. I was floored and honored by her request, and happy to be a part of her big day. But I was also a little nervous leading up to the big day. It meant a long night of sitting and standing and (gasp) dancing. Maybe it was the beer and wine, but I felt pretty good all night and managed to work up a decent sweat on the dance floor...the first time I've danced in longer than I care to remember. It was also the first time in well over a year that I felt normal, part of the crowd, where pain wasn't the first thing on my mind. I'd forgotten what that was like, and I got a taste. Now I want the whole god damn meal!

Here comes the bride!

My activity levels have steadily increased. I'm still knocking out 4-6 miles a week in the pool and have incorporated TRX training into my workouts, but I've curbed the hiking for a while. Along with disc problems, I've had a lifelong sacro-iliac (SI) joint injury. A chiropractor I've been seeing locally told me he's only seen one other patient with an SI joint as damaged as mine. Not the first time I've heard that.

So about 6 weeks ago I underwent stem cell injections into my SI joint. The doc removed fat from my left flank and extracted stem cells from the adipose tissue. There's discussion amongst doctors as to which is more effective, bone marrow or adipose derived stem cells. Bone marrow stem cells require culturing to achieve a sufficient number cells, whereas adipose tissue provides about 500x the number of stem cells over bone marrow, and the process is much less invasive and less expensive. She also mixed some PRP into the stem cell cocktail and injected it into my SI joint. Doc said it takes 2-3 months before seeing any real results, so I've got some time yet, but she advised against doing any aggressive hiking while the stem cells did their stuff to let the joints heal, so I'm just doing 30 minute sessions on the treadmill at 15% incline along with swimming until my SI joint has strengthened up.

Ironically it's my mid back and neck that are currently a bigger issue. But I'm hoping that's just transitional and will sort itself out. Gone are the days of feeling like I've got a foreign object in my spine. Basic day to day movements cause me no grief, but sitting all day at work and standing for longer than 15 minutes causes discomfort, but not the agonizing pain I experienced 3 months ago.

So little by little my life is beginning to return. I'm not satisfied, but I'll never be satisfied, and I'm fine with that.

Peace out!

One more trip around the sun

Tomorrow I'll complete 45 trips around the sun. It's customary for people to congratulate you on your birthday as if you actually earned something. I've always found it strange when someone offers ME a hearty congratulations, when the person they should really applaud is my mom. She's the one who forced a watermelon out of her uterus. So mom, congratulations! Forty five years ago you made me possible. You deserve all the credit.

So, it's been a while since I tickled you with my ramblings. Where am I? Doing OK, actually. As always, I'm never satisfied with my progress, but slowly moving in the right direction. I'm still dealing with this constant pressure that increases in severity with prolonged sitting and standing. But I'm able to lightly sprint up steep hills during my hikes, and I'm easily knocking out 80-100 laps in the pool at a spirited pace. I've been occasionally 'riding' the stationary bike, and while it feels great to turn a crank (even if I'm not moving) sitting basically motionless while I pedal is difficult for more than 30 minutes. But I'll take what I can get right now.

For those who've read most of my posts, this thread of being unsatisfied pops up frequently. I don't mean to give the wrong impression. My standards of recovery are just a bit higher than some. Before surgery I was active on a level slightly above the average Joe. So my idea of 'getting back to normal' might seem optimistic to some, but it's MY idea of normal that makes it difficult to accept anything less. I'm capable of enjoying activities with much less discomfort now than I could two months ago, and I appreciate every gain. But until I'm on the bike chasing my friends through the woods I won't be completely satisfied.

With that said, other areas of my life are a bowl of cherries! The new job I started a few weeks ago is awesome. I've got the freedom to work from home, and the crew I'm working with are fun and easy to collaborate with. I love living in the Santa Cruz mountains! I've got an amazing group of friends here and meeting more people every day. I have an endless network of trails right outside my front door and each morning when I'm out searching for new trails I stop and soak in how happy I feel at this moment in my life.

I hope happiness finds you as well. And on your next birthday call your mom and say thanks. She earned it.

Peace!

Home Sweet Home

I'm all moved into my new place, affectionately called, "The Birdhouse'. It's a tiny cabin on a property in lovely Felton, California where several other people call home as well. In the main house there's a young newlywed couple with plans to open a Boba Tea shop, a talented musician, a bike rep, and a single mom and her 4 (and a half) year old son in another, larger cabin. The neighborhood is nestled into the redwoods and is across the road from Henry Cowell state park with endless hiking and mountain biking opportunities. Now I just gotta get my back ready for riding!

A home fit for a Hobbit!

I report to my new job tomorrow morning. While I can swim hard and fast for over a mile and eek out a strenuous 7 mile hike, sitting still gives me fits. Being stationary is the most difficult thing for me to handle right now. So I'm not sure how I'm going to feel after a day at a desk. I imagine a lot of laps around the office during the day. While I'm not looking forward to the sedentary nature of work, it's been a while since I've been in the workplace, so it will feel good to shake the rust off.

Felton is next to Santa Cruz, a small town of about 6k people where downtown stretches all of three blocks. Quite a dramatic shift from Los Angeles. I went to school in Santa Cruz 25 years ago and it's incredible how little has changed in that time. This will be a perfect opportunity to slow down (if it's even possible to slow any further) and focus even more on my recovery. I'm looking at the next 6 months as a pivotal period in my life and look forward to the coming seasons of change.

Benjamin and I both agree...Santa Cruz rocks!

Peace!

Chapter 2

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!

Still Smokin'

Sorry for the hiatus, folks. Well, things are moving along. As always, not fast enough, but still moving forward. I'm getting in about 10 miles a day on foot and incorporated stair work outs again.  I started swimming as well, or rather splashing around like a kid with ADHD after sucking down a couple Cokes. My freestyle ain't pretty. I manage to get in about 40-50 laps before the back lets me know it's time to stop.

I'm still being taunted by this persistent pressure in my low back. It's a very familiar type of discomfort that I've beed dealing with for about 20 years, but it's not completely limiting me from getting out and living my life. I'm coming up on 5 months now and haven't experienced any sharp pain or numbness and tingling for a while, so I'm hoping that phase is behind me. That 'foreign object' feeling comes and goes. Some moments I feel light and airy, other moments I know it's there. I imagine this will follow me around for a while based on accounts from other ADR patients.

About 6 weeks ago I was able to begin stretching again, starting slowly and inching my way back to yoga shape. My downward dog is starting to look pretty damn good. I can bend at the waist and rest my knuckles on the ground, so the hammies and glutes are starting to respond. I can ease into a spinal twist that really helps stretch out my piriformis. Stretching, more than anything else, seems to really help with my recovery. And it just feels good to know that I can bend and twist without that fear of something 'catching'.

One big change is the work situation. I've been living the lifestyle of the not-so-rich and shameless on the beach for most of this year, and it looks like this extended vacation is coming to an end. I accepted a job that starts on August 25th. I'm not looking forward to sitting for long periods of time, which my job requires, but it will be nice to get back to work and start replenishing those pennies I spent in Germany. I'll be in Santa Monica for a few more weeks, but I'm moving to Santa Cruz for the foreseeable future. The new job allows me the freedom to work remotely, so I'm going to check out a couple other potential locations to lay my head. But for a while at least, I can be found traipsing around the forests in the Santa Cruz mountains searching for Sasquatch.

Peace out!

Good luck, Drew!

During my recovery I've become friends with a fellow spiney who has had a long and arduous road to surgery. Right about now he's moments away from going under the knife in Barcelona to have three discs corrected with a combination fusion and disc replacement.

Good luck, Drew! See you on the other side! Bring me back some paella.

- I