***18 more pictures!! Start at the bottom of the page!***

Thanks Trish - I'm sort of partial, but I think my kids were adorable too!! Thanks for commenting! (As you can see, I do indeed see your comments now!) I wish more would so I'd know who was still reading or not. But nonetheless, I'm so appreciative of your support - all of it!!
Love, Valerie

Post-op Recovery and oh those knees!

The two hour car ride was soooo long and yet.....we were home before I knew it?!? Strange, what drugs do to you. It seems as if we hit every bump in the road and I was sure my head was going to fall off! I had cradled myself with pillows and even using Ben's sweatshirt as more support. I couldn't get comfortable. As soon as we walked in the house, a surprise waited for me. My Aunt Mary owns an electric recliner that she had offered to me several times. I had thought about accepting but I couldn't bring myself to. Erica knew all about this and she must have asked every single day leading up to the surgery, "Don't you think you should get the recliner from Aunt Mary?? Don't you think you might want it?" I can be stubborn and just kept saying no. Well, my little Erica ignored me! While I was in the hospital, she decided that she wanted me to have it because she was certain I would be more comfortable in it. She spoke to my sister Ursula and Ursula got in contact with two of my cousins, Joey and Tommy, and they went to Aunt Mary's and got the chair. Ursula met them at my house and they brought it inside. I felt awful for them when I heard this - it was soooo hot out. Before Ursula left, she put the air-conditioning on - so when we walked in after that very unpleasant car ride, there was the comfy electric recliner and the house was cool!! If you know me at all, you KNOW that I despise the heat! What a pleasant surprise that was and I was so touched by Erica's choice! She was worried that I'd be mad at her, but how can anyone be angry when someone does something like that out of pure love?? She helped me into some comfy pj's, I took another Percocet and she lovingly helped me into the recliner and off to sleep I went.

I won't bore you with all of the details of that recovery, but I will mention some highlights. It sucked! There was a great deal more pain that I had anticipated. And the description I gave in an earlier post saying that my head felt like earth stuck on the top of a skinny pencil is still the best way of describing it. I truly felt like a bobble head and thank God I wore a neck brace for 2 weeks. I did remove it for showering and when I was reclining in the chair, but I felt much safer with it on. Everything was difficult, especially eating and swallowing. To this day, I think my throat is smaller. I have never been one to have difficulty swallowing pills, but now I do. Sometimes, out of nowhere, I seem to choke on my own saliva. Sometimes when I drink, it doesn't seem to go down "right". I have spoken with several people who have had a cervical fusion and they all say the same thing. Every single one experiences the same sensations as me. Weird. My neck mobility was difficult at first. I went to PT and it improved slightly. I just figured it would take some time to gain the flexibility back.

Now, I would like to mention one little problem that I had when I was in the hospital and that I still had weeks later. I could speak a little more than a whisper now, but it was hoarse and deep. If I tried to speak louder it hurt. At my second post-op visit with Jeff, Dr. Glazer's PA, we discussed the voice since it didn't seem like it was improving. He remarked that the hoarseness should dissipate by the next time I came, and if it hadn't, that Dr. Glazer would want me to see an ENT to investigate what the problem was. Now, let me back up a step. Do you remember the anesthesiologist that I spoke of? The "newbie" that had my blood spraying all over prior to surgery?? Well, the morning after the surgery, Saturday morning, he came into my hospital room and announced to me that I had been a "very difficult intubate" patient! He asked if I had ever been operated on before and if anyone had ever told me that I was difficult to intubate? I said, "No". He said, "Yeah, we had a helluva time and I hope you're not being operated on in the near future, but if so, you better make sure to tell the anesthesiologist!" and he left. My sister, Bob, Ben and Erica were all in the room. I think we were all speechless. WHY none of us thought to question him, or to question Dr. Glazer about this conversation the following morning when I saw him before discharge, I'll never know!!! My excuse is going to be pain and drugs, the kids, well, they're kids, Ursula, well, she wasn't there the next morning, but I do wish my husband had bothered to ask some questions. To be 100% honest, I think I was in so much pain, I really didn't care what he had to say. But I knew what I heard. So when my voice wasn't improving, I started to wonder if what he had said to me had anything to do with my current throat/voice problem? Hmmm.....the medical sleuth I can be, I started to do some searching online. OMG!! It happens again! I diagnose myself online! Seeing that Jeff had mentioned that if it didn't improve that Dr. Glazer would want me to be evaluated by an ENT, I decided to take things in my own hands and I called up the ENT who aided me with my mono - Dr. Feldman. I was able to get an appointment for 5 days later and when he walked in and said, "What's going on???” I told him the whole story. The poor guy had to practically sit in my lap to hear what I was saying. He then started to look down my throat and then said, "Ok, I need to do an endoscopy". Ok, I thought. I had no idea what that was, but ok. He told me to lean my head back and close my eyes. Then he said, "Do NOT cough, do NOT swallow, breath through your mouth only, NOT through your nose". OK, as I kept my eyes tightly closed (if I've learned anything with all of my medical experiences that I can relay to you -- ALWAYS do what the doctor says, if he/she say's "close your eyes", for God's sakes CLOSE YOUR EYES!!) and suddenly he is putting something up my nose!! And I can suddenly feel it going down my throat, my eyes start to water and I want to cough. As if he sensed it, he calmly reiterated, "Valerie, breath through your mouth. Follow me" and he started breathing through his mouth. It calmed me down and he quickly finished the exam. I gagged as he took it out. YUCK!! GROSS!! Well, that's an endoscopy!! And he verified what I had already diagnosed myself with! My right vocal cord was paralyzed! He proceeded to tell me that it either happened from the intubation or the surgery itself. He explained that in a difficult intubation, they very well could have "scraped" the vocal cord in an attempt to intubate, especially when time was of the essence. Or it could have been Dr. Glazer, as he gets really, really close to the vocal cords during a cervical fusion. However, he stated that if he had to take an educated guess, it was probably the intubation. If it were the surgeon, he felt he would have seen a little nick, but he didn't, which led him to believe it was "bruised" rather than cut. He said that although it's relatively rare, it certainly isn't unheard of. The good news was that it has 80% chance of recovering on its own and the bad news was that it could take up to a year to heal!!! And he recommended that I NOT be intubated again unless it was completely cleared up! I said, "Wait a minute - I need this spinal revision". He just looked at me and said, "Not unless this clears up!” He asked me if I had spoken to Dr. Glazer about this situation and I said "No" because I hadn't even seen Dr. Glazer yet, just Jeff. I was going to be seeing Dr. Glazer about 2 weeks later for my final post-op, so I decided to pre-empt the visit with a letter. I sat down and wrote down everything, exactly as it happened and put it in the mail. I received a voicemail days later from Dr. Glazer (he had been at a medical conference), saying he had no idea what I was talking about, because NO one had ever told HIM that I had been a difficult intubate and that we could discuss this when I was going to be seeing him a week later or call him back. He also revealed that he had a phone call in to Dr. Glidden, who was (at the time) Chief of Anesthesiology AND who was the attending during my surgery!! I decided not to call him back as this was a conversation I'd rather have in person.

Appointment day came and Dr. Glazer announced a startling comment. He said he had been so shocked by what I had said in my letter, and he was taken aback because he had absolutely no idea what I was talking about, that he immediately called and spoke with the Chief of Anesthesiology, Dr. Randy Glidden. He said that they reviewed my OR notes and NO WHERE in the notes is it stated that I was a difficult intubate!! They ended up having to review the OR notes that day and it appeared that the "newbie" anesthesiologist made an error. A grave error. The day of the surgery, I was told repeatedly that the reason my surgery was delayed by 4 hours was because there had been a "complication" in the surgery before me. Evidently, the difficult intubate was the woman before me! That "newbie" anesthesiologist got us messed up! Plus, Dr. Glazer was appalled that even if it had been me, the way in which this resident treated me was unacceptable. He said, "It's not bad enough that you WEREN'T difficult to intubate, but that he didn't treat a patient here at BIDMC with compassion". He then said that Dr. Glidden wanted to meet with me personally to apologize for the incorrect information that have been given to me. I agreed to this. He called to Dr. Glidden but in the meantime,  I was brought to another room to see a knee surgeon before meeting Dr. Glidden.

So, let's back up a bit..................c'mon, you had to have known there would yet another part to the story! Since when have I ever had things go without complication??? Ok, in the meantime going back to after the surgery and when I wrote my letter to Dr. Glazer, I had returned to my local ortho and told him that Dr. Glazer was requesting an MRI of my knees and that he was hesitant to proceed with my spinal revision surgeries without having my knees evaluated with an MRI to rule out any major problems. I hope you are sitting down for this one!! HE REFUSED!! Yep, you are reading that correctly, he refused!! His exact comment was, "All you have wrong with your knees is pseudogout. There is absolutely nothing else wrong with your knees! I am refusing the MRI because that is how confident I am that I am right!” I was aghast. I requested that he put that in writing to Dr. Glazer. Well, it just so happens that one of the doc's I worked with at South County Pediatrics was appalled that I told her this. She said, "I have never heard of a doctor ignoring the request of another physician! Why refuse an MRI? It doesn't cost him a penny; you have to pay for it". She was soooo mad, so she said, "The hell with him, Valerie. I'll write the darn script for the MRI's!!" I replied, "You will? You don't have to, I'll just call Dr. Glazer and he'll have to!" and she said, "No biggie, here you go!" and she handed me the script. So off I went for a bilateral knee MRI with a script from a pediatrician!!! That is kind of funny, except for the fact that it was that way because my own orthopedic wouldn't write it- and basically out of ego. Rather patheric, if you ask me. I arranged for the MRI's in Wakefield, RI and got the report and disc (no old-fashioned films anymore!) and managed to snag a appointment with another knee surgeon in the office next door to Dr. Glazer for the very same day as the post-op appointment in which I would be discussing my letter with Dr. Glazer. (Dr. Glazer had referrred me to this doc when I made a phone call to his office). His name was Dr. Robert Glen Davis. Now keep in my mind, "the" report was read as my having nothing wrong with my knees except osteoarthritis and some "abnormal" area's in both knees. No other explanation. All I knew was that I didn't care what the damn report said, I had knee pain and there had to be some reason - for God's sake, I knew that I wasn't crazy!

So, now....while I was waiting for Dr. Glidden, I was going to see Dr. Davis. He reviewed my report and films and said, "Wow, how did your knee's get like this and WHY do you have pseudogout at your age?" Good question. He definitely diagnosed me with pretty significant osteoarthritis in my knees, so he suggested a steroid injection in each knee. I said, "Sure." I mean anything to reduce the pain. It had gotten to the point of torture to get up in the morning, climb down stairs or get up after having sat for more than 5 minutes. Boy, those were painful injections, but within 30 minutes - the pain was simply gone. My friend and neighbor Dee came with me to that appointment that day and as we were walking to meet up with Dr. Glidden, we passed by a room and Dee said, "Valerie, they are calling you in there". We proceeded into the room where Dr. Davis was looking at my disc that I brought of my MRI's on a computer screen. In the room was Dr. Glazer, Dr. Davis and what I would presume to be two residents. Dr. Davis proceeded to tell me that he completely disagreed with the MRI report from RI and that he was confident that I had meniscal tears in both of my knees!! However, since he had just done the steroid injections, we decided that we would review it in 6 months. I didn't say a thing, but I knew this also meant I wouldn't be proceeding with revision anytime soon. I suppose that is why I didn't say anything. Hmmm.....I got to put it off just a little longer. Now the question was, was this a blessing or a curse??

From there Dee and I went and met with Dr. Glidden. He was a personable man who apologized profusely over the error that had occurred and Dee and I later agreed that he seemed nervous. We both suspected that between him and Dr. Glazer, they were probably scared to death that I was going to sue them or something. I'm not sure. The whole story DID seem sketchy to me, yet..........I really do trust Dr. Glazer and I have no reason -whatsoever- not to trust him. I can't imagine why he would involve himself in a lie, so I decided to just trust them both that this was just a horrible mistake and Dr. Glidden assured me that when I was to be operated on again for my spinal revision, that I could refuse to have a resident be on my case and I just had to request an attending instead. In fact, he told me that he himself would do it if I so chose. We left the hospital after seeing three doctors and 6 hours later - we were exhausted. I had so much to absorb in my mind. It was a very long day indeed. But.........I had no knee pain. Thank God for small miracles!

2008

This year started as all others. A weight, not really noticeable but there nonetheless, on my shoulders, that with every increasing pain in my back would remind me that "Oh yeah, I've got something wrong with me that I will have to sit down and really think through one of these days!". But it seemed like I was just too busy to sit and think about how I was really feeling and analyze whether or not I was really getting worse or not. The one think I did know was that I was getting sick and tired of people asking me all of the time if I had hurt my back because I walked "funny". It started to make me self-conscious of walking. I mean like it wasn't hard enough to just DO IT, but now I was concerned about people watching me! Think about that - all you people with healthy spines. When you get up to walk, do you even THINK about it or do you just do it?? It is a huge thought process for me, not a simple act. I don't just walk. I have to think about it. Very strange.


In May 2008, I went back to Dr. Glazer - again! I said, "I think I've become worse". He said, "Ya think?" and he would just look at me. He examined the newest x-rays and was quiet. Then he turns around, as he does each and every time, and without saying anything else, he ALWAYS starts out by crossing his legs and arms, relaxing in the chair and says, "So....talk to me". Wait? Aren't I here for YOU to talk to ME??” Dr. Glazer is a different doctor though. I tend to view him as a "holistic" doctor. He looks at the "whole picture", NOT just the problem area. Even though he is technically a spine specialist/surgeon, he really see's you as a WHOLE person and not just another spine. He is like a therapist. He knows me, I think. He asked me once, "WHY when I ask you how you are doing, you reply "I'm doing well, how about you?” You are not here for ME and you are NOT fine, Valerie. I look at your x-rays and MRI's and CT scan’s and I don't know how you function!!! Do NOT say you are fine!” Well, I guess he told me!! So he knows, he has to take it slowly with me but soon I am revealing all. I tell him I can't walk. I tell him I can't stand. I tell him that I can no longer imagine shopping at the mall. I tell him that if a friend wanted to go to NYC for the day, I would have to decline. I CAN'T do that anymore. He looked at me and said, "It's called a decline in the QUALITY OF LIFE". I said, "Yes, you are right". He said, "What do you want to do?” I look at him and say, "Have the surgeries I guess". He's quiet. "Really? Are you sure?” I want to scream, "What? Are you telling me I shouldn't?” But I don't. I just look back at him. He says, "This particular surgery is HUGE. Are you prepared for this? Have you really thought it through?” I lie and say, "Yes". I know that he doesn’t believe me. But he and I have talked about it a number of times. I have been a member of my online support group for years. I talk to my family and friends about it occasionally. I mean, for God's sake, YES, I've thought about it. Just not in details? I say none of this to him, it's just quiet. He turns back to the computer screen and stares and the digital films of my spine, in each and every way imaginable.

He turns around again and says, "Your neck is a mess". I say, "I know". He gets up and gives me a finger, hand and arm strength test. I fail. He said, "Do you bump into doorways alot?” Shocked, I respond "Yeah. How did you know?” He asks, "Do you drop things alot?” "Yeah, how do you know?” He sits, looks at me, smirks and says, "because your neck is a mess!". I smile and chuckle. Okkkkkkk. I say, "Now what?” He said, "I believe in fixing the neck before revision". I said, "Will you still be slitting my throat?” He smiles and says, "I will be entering from the front of your neck. I think I need to fuse 2 discs.” I asked, "Do we really have to do this?” He said, "Yes". He said, "I want a new MRI first". OK. He said, "Have Linda set it up for you. I do not want them done in Westerly. I know this is an inconvenience, but I want you do have them done here". Alrighty. He stood and left, but as he walked out, he turned around and said, "I'll call you with the results".

One week later, Erica and I headed to Boston (yet again, I could do this drive in my sleep!) on a Saturday afternoon. I had an MRI and CT scan of my entire spine and then we turned around and headed back home.

A week or so later, Dr. Glazer called me. "Valerie, your neck is a mess. We need to fix it before revision. I need to do a 2-level fusion, from C 5-7. No ifs or ands about it. What do you want to do?” I hear myself saying, "Let's fix it". He hesitates. Finally, he speaks again and said, "You'll be hearing from Janet next week to set up a date". I said, "Ok". He said, "I'll see you in the OR dear".

Janet calls two days later. I set the date for July 18 (2008). Yikes - I had about 3 weeks. I told my boss. My employers were wonderful and they don't even really know ANYTHING about my spine saga. Janet states I'll probably be out of work for 2 or 3 weeks. Well, I figure I am a fast healer, so I will just tell work 2 weeks definitely. Because I WILL be ready then right?? I just ignore the numbers I don't want to hear, I heard "2", so 2 weeks it is!!

We headed up on a Friday for a surgery slated for 1:30 PM. We arrived at 11. The family was staying overnight (Dr. Glazer said I'd only be in the hospital overnight) in a hotel directly across the street. No big deal. Right? Well, 1:30 came and went. 2. 3. 4. FOR GOD'S SAKE PEOPLE, don't you know that you are stressing me??? Beth Israel IS a teaching hospital, I know BUT I get this "newbie" anesthesiologist. The kid can't get the line in me and before any of us know it, my blood is spewing everywhere. Erica lean's over and whispers, "OK, I am NOT comfortable with this guy taking care of you". I tell her, "No worries, he'll be being watched by an attending. Everyone has to learn on somebody". See? Why am I always worried about everyone else?? I chose to keep my mouth shut because bascially I'm more concerned about this young kids feelings than my own well-being?!? Slap me now!! Finally Dr. Glazer and his PA, Jeff show up. Jeff is using a black marker and doing God knows what , I guess basically drawing with it on my neck. I want to ask, "Where's my drugs??" Jeez! Finally, at about 5:05 I am brought to the OR. I kiss all good-bye and all I could think was "Let's get this show on the road". I hadn't been in an OR since my C-section with Ben. This was my 5th surgery and the realization of that 'ol familiar smell of "something or other" was my last recollection.

I woke up in the Recovery Room. My first thought, "Open your eyes". Anyone who has experienced surgery knows what I am talking about. Opening your eyes isn't so easy when you come "out of it". You’re so tired and you just want to go back to sleep. But I force myself, because I want to prove to myself that I am alive and all is well. Ok. I see people scurrying and I hear people. I'm alive. I ask, to anyone who can hear me, "What time is it". Someone responds, "Hi Valerie. You are in the recovery room honey. It is 8 o'clock". OK, that means it was successful too (Dr. Glazer had said it would be about a 2 hour surgery). Then all of a sudden, PAIN. Yikes!! This wasn't feeling so wonderful. The nurse says, "Wake up Valerie. Stay awake now. How ya doing?" I say "fine". She comes over and says, "Have any pain?” "Yes" I say. She says, "Then you’re NOT fine! Here is your pain pump, just pump it when you have pain". BEAUTIFUL!! I forced myself to stay awake because after a few attempts I know she is NOT letting me stay asleep anyway. Soon I am being brought to my room. The first people I see are my children. I smile and Erica is relieved to see me alive and ok. She is a worrier and I can see she is happy with what she see's, which in turn makes me happy. If she had looked worried, I'd be worried! I am exhausted and I just want to sleep, so I finally ask them to leave! They left, and yet I couldn't fall sleep. This is how narcotic's react in me. They exhaust me, but yet I can't fall asleep. I felt like I laid awake all night long. Plus I could only stay on my back in a reclining position. Well, lying on your back with Flatback is just about the most painful thing we can do. Even all drugged up, my back was killing me. Dr. Glazer came in the next morning and said, "You had a little more significant deterioration and herniation than was noticeable in the films. I had to fuse 3 levels, C 4-7. Are you in pain?” I say "Yes". I shocked myself at the answer! He tells me that he is going to instruct a nurse to remove my IV pain pump and he wants me to start eating and drinking and swallowing pain med's. HUH?? I could barely swallow my damn spit and now he thinks I am going to swallow a pill?? Let me explain, I feel like a freakin' bobble head. My head felt about the size of earth sitting on top of a pencil, I had a headache from hell, I had a TRUE pain in the neck, my back was killing me, my knees were stiff from being off my daily anti-inflammatory for the past 10 days and from not moving them, my throat hurts and when I try to speak I can only whisper AND I was sooooo TIRED because I couldn't sleep!! He takes off the neck brace and asks me to slowly turn my head! Is he joking? I do it. It is a relief to feel my neck responding, but it hurts and I don't want to do it again. He says, "You aren't going home today. You need to stay another night". Yeah, ok - like I was leaving anyway. There is no way I was leaving that hospital; I would have fought the whole way!!! I wasn't expecting the level of pain that I was feeling and my little Erica was my private nurse. She fed me popsicles in tiny pieces, she held my hand and she whispered positive affirmations to me constantly: "You look really good Mom". "You ate almost 1/2 Popsicle". "Want some ginger ale?” She never left my side. Erica and I share a bond so strong it couldn't be cut, no matter what. I always say that Ben is "My" boy, my little man (even though he is a BIG one now) and my little guy, but Erica is "My" daughter, my sweet little girl. She would have made a fine nurse. Both of my children are old souls. Really good, kind young people and they have been that way since birth. They always root for the underdog, they are altruistic and they are both so compassionate. Can you tell they are the lights of my life? I am so proud of my children and I love them fiercely.

Saturday night, I am in so much pain. I stare at the clock watching the minutes pass by until it is time for pain meds again. The nurse doesn't come. I ring the bell. No one responds. I ring again. Still no response. I hear a lot of activity in the halls. I can only assume someone is in more need than me, so I lay there and don't ring again. Finally an hour later, my nurse comes running into the room apologizing. She is 8 months pregnant, a sweet little thing. I tell her that I desperately need to change position, that my back and knee's are killing me. She manages to help me move about 1/16". Whoopie! She says, "How's that?” I say, "Good". I lie. How can I allow this very pregnant girl help me move? I feel bad, so I suffer. She gives me the pain meds and I am able to sleep for 10 minutes every hour. By 5 AM, my knees are screaming. I can't handle the pain. A nurse comes in and attempts to get me up. I WANT to get up. My knees don't. Dr. Glazer arrives and says, "What's going on?” I tell him, "My knees. I was stuck in the same position too long last night and now they hurt so much. Can I start on my Mobic again??” He says, "Yes, BUT we need to something about those knee's! You need to get an MRI, here me? Tell your local ortho that you need to check out those knees!” I say, "Ok". Then he asks, “Why are you whispering?” and I said, “I don’t know. It’s as loud as I can talk”. He just looks at me. However, even without words, I can sense his wonder as to why. He doesn’t say anything else except, “I’ll see you in two weeks”. I was discharged a couple of hours later. I'm in bad shape. The two hour car ride home is hell on earth. All I could think was, "What have I done??"

*****11 NEW PICTURES POSTED IN SIDELINE!!*****

2006 & 2007

 I took the anti-inflammatory daily as he prescribed and at first, it really helped. It even helped with my back pain. Yet, in just weeks, it seemed to stop working. The "attacks" of pseudo-gout never came to a head, just starting and then subsiding. Thank God. However, the back pain increased - first making it difficult to stand straight by the end of the day and then more difficulty walking any great distance.

I plunged ahead, doing my very best to ignore it all. Some days were ok, some days were tolerable and some days were downright miserable. I never knew what kind of day would be thrown at me. I tried hard not to complain, for I knew I would get a response from someone saying, "Well, have the surgery". Yeah, right. So easy for the person not needing the surgeries to say!

Working at the store and standing were becoming hard. Very hard. The other thing I noticed in 2006 was the difficulty I had in the mornings. Waking up stiff or in pain, and needing a hot shower to get the muscles to relax, but even then, I found I moved s-l-o-w. I just couldn't get myself going, it is like you know you could push if you really had too - but should you have to PUSH like that just to get showered and dressed? And afraid that if you pushed at all, it would create more pain. I found myself running late every morning and getting to work on time proved to be more and more difficult. How do you explain this to your boss (friend or not) and your co-workers (friends or not). How can you say, "I can't move quickly in the morning, so I may not be on time every day?" Bull crap. No way could I say that - I mean, if you're supposed to be at work for 8:30, then be there at 8:30!! Otherwise, to ask for "special" accommodations would fall under "disability" and I wasn't disabled. I was NOT disabled. Or was I??

Nooooooo! Disabled means being unable to function in everyday life, right? Not getting to work on time is just a time-management problem and laziness on my part!! Yep, so now I just felt like I had to get my act together because it wasn't a physical problem, it was a mental problem. I was just being lazy. Perhaps I just needed to lose some weight. THAT must be why I no longer had energy and walking was so difficult! It was all my fault and it had nothing to do with my spine. I was using my spine as a scape-goat!!! Right?? WRONG. I could slap myself silly sometimes. Actually, I did start exercising and lost about 30 lbs. and I did feel better. For a while. But then that 'ol familiar back pain was oh so prevalent again. And boy oh boy, how my knee's ached and hurt. And oh yeah, why was neck always hurting and arms and hands falling asleep???

Erica graduated from HS in June 2006. It was a busy and stressful time - planning and helping with graduation stuff, planning a graduation party, preparing and shopping for her dorm, it really was a summer that wouldn't seem to end! I felt completely stressed and exhausted. At the end of August, I was completely depleted of all energy. Simply exhausted. I could barely get through the days and when I would come home from work, I found myself having to nap before I could muster the energy to start dinner. Now looking back, shouldn't that have been a sign?? Why do I ignore signs?? This went on for a couple of weeks and at the beginning of September, Erica entered RI College with a major in early childhood education. I worked my butt off that day and I think I scrubbed and Lysol'ed every square inch of that dorm room and in the end the kid looked like she was in a luxury hotel room!!! I got home that night and was so thrilled for my little girl, but thought I had never been so tired in all of my life. I woke up the next morning feeling as tired as I did when I had gone to bed the night before! What was wrong with me?

A few days later, I developed a horrible sore throat. Horrible. It went away and then came right back again a couple of days later. I felt awful. Then I noticed I had a swollen lymph gland. Within days, it grew to the sign of an egg on the side of my neck! A couple of days later I thought, "I wonder if I should get this checked out?” I went to work instead. At the end of the day, I mentioned to my boss and dear friend Kevin, "I think I'm sick, I don't feel good and I have this swollen gland. Look" and I showed him. He looked at me said, "Get out of here now!! God, go to Urgent Care" with a grimace on his face, like he was completely grossed out!! Ha! Ha! It was a Friday night so I left a little early and headed right to the clinic. Naturally, it took forever to see the doctor and finally she came in. After examining me, she said that it was an ear infection! An ear infection?? I didn't even have an earache! She gave me an antibiotic and I figured that since I had the weekend off, I could rest and be good as new by Monday morning to return to work. Instead of getting better, with each passing hour, I felt worse. Sunday evening came and I was in pain. PAIN. I couldn't swallow, I had to keep drooling into a Kleenex because I couldn't bear to swallow and it hurt really, really bad. Everyone went to bed and I paced. Like I was in labor. I literally paced around my downstairs for hours, thinking "I can't go complain that my sore throat is hurting so much". How can you go to the ER for a sore throat - I mean, how absurd!! I continued to pace. Finally at 4 AM, I couldn't stand it. Now I felt like I couldn’t breathe, like I had to draw in deeply to get air or something. I got in the car and went to the ER. I have to admit though that I remember thinking I could not believe that I was going to the ER at 4AM and going to complain of a sore throat. Then I had to admit that it was obviously a bad enough sore throat to get up and go to the ER in the middle of the night!! I knew then I was sick. This is exactly how I talk to myself, I go round and round in my head. I make myself dizzy with the "what if's". I was a mess when the doctor came in, I must have been quite a sight. He looked at me and said, "You look awful! What is wrong with you?” I told him. He examined me and I kept falling asleep during the exam and he said, "How long have you been like this?” I said, "Well, it started about 10 days ago and it's been really bad this weekend". He said, "You have some sort of very nasty infection. I'm going to give you a super strong antibiotic and some Vicodan for the pain. Start on it IMMEDIATELY. At 9AM, I want you to call an ENT and get an appointment for Tuesday and don't take no for an answer and tell them I said you NEED to be seen on Tuesday". But wait......I said, "But I was at Urgent Care on Friday night and she said I only had an ear infection?" and he said, "What? An ear infection??" as he started to look inmy ears again. He finished and said, "You so NOT have any ear infection, she's wrong and the antibiotic she has you on wouldn't kill a fly, you need something more powerful that what she gave you." Alrighty then. So I went home and could barely get the pills down, I kept gagging. It was like there wasn't enough room in my throat. I've never had a problem swallowing pills, ever! I knew something was very wrong with me. At 9AM sharp, I called and got an appointment for the next morning with an ENT at 10. I tried to sleep; at this point I had gone for days without sleep! The vicodan didn't touch the pain. Now I was scared. I knew something was very, very wrong when the next morning it took me 3 hours to shower and blowdry my hair, because I had to keep resting and napping in between. I arrived at the ENT office, and they instantly looked at me like I was sick - probably because at this point I could barely speak above a whisper. The ENT I chose was Dr. Jeffrey Feldman. He came in and said, "Ewww...........you're sick!” No shit! He examined me and he said, "Cough". I tried but it hurt too much. Then he asked when I had taken the last Vicodan. I said a few hours ago. He said, "Your throat is almost completely closed up, the Vicodan is stuck there and you are a very sick girl. I need to get you in the hospital NOW". He then asked, "have you ever had mono?'. MONO???? Like as in the kissing disease?? I said, "No". He replied, "Well, I think you have it now and you have developed a nasty infection". He then picked up the phone right there in the room and called over to the hospital. I heard him say, "Valerie Delaney, dob 6-23-61. STAT - You need to get an IV ready blah, blah, blah....” Huh?? What was going on? My temp was 105* and he said, "Get to the hospital right now. Go directly to admitting. They will be waiting for you. You need to be on IV steroid RIGHT NOW. I am afraid your throat will close completely and I'm going to end up needing to trach you!” Oh dear God. I just had a sore throat, didn’t’t I? I did what I was told and within 20 minutes, I was in a Johnny in a hospital bed on the 2nd floor with IV antibiotic and steroids!! Dr. Feldman arrived that afternoon and said, "You definitely have mono and the numbers are out of the ballpark!” The next morning when he came in to see me, I had had time to think and absorb that I had mono at 45 years old!?! I asked him,  "How could I have developed mono?” He asked, "What do you do for a living?" and I said, "I work at Westerly Jewelry" and he said "Bingo!! Customer service. You exchanged germs with someone about 2-3 weeks ago that had mono. Simple as that." I said, "Well it's not like I kissed them!!". He laughed. He said, "It doesn't have to only be exchanged through saliva. They had it, wiped their mouth or something and either touched your hand and you rubbed your nose and that's how it all began. Being in sales, it could have been through the exchange of money. I don't know, but you go it and you got it bad. Have you been stressed lately?" and I said, "Yes" and he said, "Control the stress levels, as you get older the stress affects you more. It makes the body more suseptible to infections." He then explained that the mono itself didn't land me in the hospital because most people have a strong enough immune system that they could have fought it but for some reason my immune system was down and I developed a full-blown and dangerous infection in my body. The point I was trying to make with this story is that he then sat down and said, "People like you amaze me and I am NOT complimenting you! Why the hell would you be that sick and wait so long to get care?” Hmmmmm........good question. I said, "Well I thought it was just a bad sore throat" and he said, "Have you ever had a sore throat so bad that you couldn't swallow at all and had difficulty breathing before?". I said, "No" and he said, "Exactly!!! Would you have ever let one of your children go this long without seeing a doctor?” I said, "No". He said, "Think about that. You have the classic women syndrome of putting everyone ahead of yourself. And it will get you no where. You need to take better care of yourself and don't ever wait this long again with ANY ailment. Hear me?” I said, "Ok". He said, "Not good enough. We're shaking on it and you need to promise me and say, "Dr. Feldman, I will NEVER do this again". Ha! Ha! So we shook hands and I ended up having to stay in the hospital for several days and my immune system was so depleted he wouldn't let me go back to work for a couple of weeks to rest and rebuild my strength. It was a lesson learned. A hard lesson and a really horrible experience. I think I really have become a little better. Honest.

One day a friend of mine said, "You really need to find a new job where you don't have to stand all of the time". I said, "NO, I love working there"!!! I couldn't leave Kevin. He needed me and to tell you the truth, I never thought I'd stop working at the jewelry store. Ever. I loved working there. I LOVE Kevin. He really is the brother I never had. I used to tease and say, "I've known this guy for forever! I knew him before he had chest hair and now its grey!!!" (He would laugh at this!) and I LOVE Sherry, a dear friend and the store manager. She has always been like a mother/sister to me and I have known both of them since 1979. That's a long time. I couldn't leave. My friend said, "You LOVE working there??? I think what you want to say is that you used to love working there!! Valerie, it IS hurting you. It causes you pain!! What is wrong with you?" and she was right. I finally dug deep within myself and was able to acknowledge that I did no longer LOVE working there. I had begun to dread it, because it created more pain. What I loved was Kevin and Sherry and I was letting my emotion's confuse my mind. So, maybe it was a good idea to find a new job. But that was what it was. Just an idea. I knew it was something I would never pursue. I left it just an "idea".

Towards the end of the year, December 2006 to be precise - this friend called me up and said, "You want a new job??” I was having a pretty bad day, pain wise. I jokingly said, "Hell yeah!” She said, "I'm serious. I just had a job posting arrive in my email and it is PERFECT for you! Perfect!” She explained what it was and I found myself saying, "Sure, I'll check it out. Forward it to me". When I got home that night, I read it. It was for a Parent Consultant position for the Rhode Island Parent Information Network (RIPIN) based in Pawtucket, RI. Hmmm......it was interesting, that was for sure. I waited a few days and thought, "Well, it couldn't hurt to forward my resume". So I did. I received a call the next day asking for me to come in for an interview! An interview!! Jeez, I don't know what I was expecting; I DID send them a resume but now I was standing in Stop & Shop (where I was when the call came in) not quite knowing what to say or do. As the woman was asking me to come in for an interview, I thought, “All I did was send you a resume, why do you want me to really come in for an interview??". See? I could slap myself silly!! I make no sense! But something was urging me on. And it confused me. I had no intention of leaving the jewelry store, right?? Wrong. Deep down, I guess I did. I think. I guess? I went to two seperate interviews and they called 2 days later to say I had the job!! WHAT????? No!!!!!! I wanted to scream, "No, no, no, no,no!!! NOOOOO!!! Do NOT offer me the job!!!!!" and yet I found myself accepting it right then and there over the phone!!! Oh no, now I had to tell my dear, dear friend Kevin that I was leaving him. I would have rather cut my right arm off.

It was now the beginning of 2007, I had finally told Kevin right before New Years and I was going to start my new job on January 30. I would be working out of an office at South County Pediatrics in Wakefield, RI. One of the "qualifications" to my getting this job is actually due to my son, Ben. For the particular program that I would be working in as a Parent Consultant, a requirement was that the employee must be the parent of a child with a special health care need. If you recall Ben's birth, he was a large happy baby. However, when he was 17 days old, Ben almost died. He was rushed to RI Hospital (Hasbro didn't exist in 1992) and after a long night of the most stress I have ever, ever encountered, Ben was diagnosed with Congenital Adrenal Hyperplasia (CAH) or 21-hydroxylase deficiency. CAH is a very rare (occuring 1 in every 18,000 live births) congenital condition that affects the adrenal glands. In essence, his adrenal glands do not produce the necessary amounts of cortisol to sustain life. Yes, this condition is life-threatening and produces abnormal amounts of androgens and aldosterone. After Ben's testing was completed, he was diagnosed as having the most severe form of CAH - salt wasting; which is the part that makes it so dangerous and life-threatening. Ben can suffer from what is called an Adrenal Crisis. An adrenal crisis results in seriously low levels of sodium in the blood, diarrhea, vomiting, dehydration, low blood sugar levels, shock and then......death. People experiencing an adrenal crisis need prompt treatment under certain circumstances. Ben has been very lucky and has only experienced 3 crises in his 17 years. Ben will always have this as there is no cure (but a cure could be found one day, hence why I am a huge supporter of stem cell research!) but he can live a normal, healthy life with daily medications and taking excellent care of himself. Interestingly enought, because Ben has a chronic care condition, that made me "qualified" to acquire my job with RIPIN, and of course, along with all my other wonderful attributes!! (That's a joke folks!) I've told Ben many, many times that I really owe my job to him!

Within just a few days of starting my new job, I realized that a percentage of my pain, a small percentage but a percentage nonetheless, was diminished. I had proof now; standing on that hard, cement floor had no doubt been harming me. I was excited with my new job and I loved it from the get go. I felt like I had just received a gift since I was not looking for a new job, but instead had it almost handed to me on a silver platter. It truly felt like it was meant to be. It still does. I truly believe that there were angels looking out for me and I just knew, without doubt, that my mother was the leader of the Angel pack!!

But my neck hurt still. And my knees ached like you couldn't imagine. And walking was becoming more and more difficult. And now it was painful to stand still, especially if I get stuck in a waiting line. And my back hurt. Except when I sat. I was happier than I had been in a while, but I felt awful. Then that Spring I had another pseudo-gout attack (on a weekend again!) and I was getting fed up. I went back to my local orthopedic and he couldn't help me at all. He just repeated the same information, "Take the anti-inflammatory and call me during another crisis and I'll do an injection". Ugh - well if I get an attack on the weekend again (like happened this time), what do I do? I was upset. I asked repeatedly, "Is there a chance there is something else wrong with my knees? Should I have an MRI?” The answer was always "No, you just have pseudo-gout". JUST??? I could have slapped him too. ARGH!

By winter, I couldn't handle the back pain anymore. But I did. Of course I did. That's what I do. I handle the pain and I never say a word. I am not a martyr, it's just that I was raised to be strong and not complain! In other words, suck it up!! I can still remember my mother telling me for the first time, "You know, when people ask how you are, they don't want to hear about your every ache and pain! Just smile and say "I'm doing great, how about you?" and leave it at that!” Really?? That came as such a shock to me!! I had no idea! So I did what I was told. Don't complain!! The problem is that I have never quite figured out when I am supposed to ignore that advice and actually complain. I have been told by many different doctors in many different specialties that I "wait too long". When are you supposed to complain?? Even now, I honestly don't know most of the time.

Leaning Tower of Pisa

    Well, as if you haven't figured me out by now, I reveal - yes, I had lots to think about, but why think about it then?? So, of course, I decided to ignore it all. I figured that I had all the time in the world to think about it. I went quickly and solidly into "escape" mode. I decided to ignore it all and make believe it was all just a bad dream. I pushed it to the back of my mind, only to be reminded when I had pain. Which at that point, was not daily and almost not even to be considered chronic? It was completely intermittent and I was did my best to go on and just believe it would stay that way. Intermittent pain. Well, maybe I'm telling a fib. When did the pain turn from intermittent to constant? I really don't know. I can tell you that I recall Dr. Glazer asking me what I took for my pain and I said, "Motrin". He asked, "How much?” I lied. I said, "Just when I really need some and I take 2". I had some 800mg Motrin and I used OTC as well. But the truth was, I was taking about 1600mg each and every day. Often on an empty stomach, sometimes even chewing them so that they would be absorbed quicker. He gave me a prescription for Celebrex. I never filled it. I wasn't going to take such a medicine. Motrin was fine. I mean it's not like I had P-A-I-N, I just had discomfort. Right?


     I recall that Christmas season, 2004, at the jewelry store as being difficult. As I mentioned in another post, the floors of that store are tough on even the healthiest of people. It is a cement floor with carpet, but listen - cement is cement. Very hard on the legs and spine. I couldn't help but think that something was just not right. I knew it, I KNEW that there was no doubt - something horrible was happening to my spine and working all of those long Christmas hours was difficult at best. I tried to muster through it and I was never so happy when it was all over. I continued to ignore the ever increasing discomfort. I figured I better just suck it up, because I was NOT having revision surgery. NO WAY! Not happening. Ever. Well maybe, but not soon.

     It was also that winter that I had to seriously acknowledge; deep down, that Dr. Glazer was right. Something was very wrong with my neck. I first noticed before I even ever diagnosed myself with Flatback that my neck was feeling funny too. You want to know what I noticed first? When I would sit up in bed to watch TV, I had to turn my head to the right where my TV is stored inside an armoire. I remember one night I realized that I was having difficulty not turning, but keeping it turned. It would ache as if it were cramping up or "stuck" and sometimes I would have shoulder blade pain so painful that I couldn’t even move my arm. Very strange. What the hell was happening to me?? Still, I remained quiet and kept it all to myself.

     Then suddenly, in the spring of 2005, I started to notice that my knees were aching me. Strangely, they felt almost like they needed to be "bent" more. So on occasion, I would squat to relieve them. This was never a particularly easy thing to do as a fused spine makes it very difficult to get back up, nor did it ever feel good. However, now it did and I found myself squatting repetitively throughout the day to relieve the stiffness. One day, I even recall asking a dear friend of mine and a former co-worker at the jewelry store if her knees ached her. She is a little older than me and I was wondering if it was just a typical sign of aging. She said, "No, my knees don't hurt". Hmmm.......maybe this was a sign of something? Then one Monday in May, my knees' (yes, both of them and not always at the same time, but sometimes) started hurting more than usual, in particular the right knee. By the time I came home, it was throbbing. Yet a difficult pain to describe. I recall watching "American Idol" that evening with Erica and I asked her to rub my right knee. At first it felt good, but then suddenly, her touch was making it hurt even more, so I asked her to stop. I took some more Motrin and went to bed. I had a fitful night’s sleep, even with the Motrin, as every time I turned over, I felt it in my knee. Very strange. By the time the next morning came, the stairs were almost impossible to descend and the pain had increased. Yet I did two sets of stairs and drove Ben to the bus stop and then climbed two flights of stairs again. I realized that I didn't want to stay up in my bedroom all day and that I better get downstairs in case the pain got worse. It did. And it increased. And it increased. It was horrible and I mean HORRIBLE. Like, in all seriousness, it was pain with intensity of childbirth - NO lie. Horrible. I stayed as still as possible (the only thing that was even close to tolerable) until the kids came home from school and found me leaning over a chair crying, where I had been for hours - completely unable to move. I had to go to the bathroom so badly and they both needed to help me get there. I spend the remainder of the day and evening in tears and as the night went on, the pain started to subside. However, it took days for my knee to return to "normal". I was embarrassed, telling few that my knee hurt me so bad I was in tears and I found the pain equal in intensity to childbirth???? Just weird. So I ignored it until I felt that familiar pain again several weeks later. Although nothing came of the pain this time, the general aching increased, so I planned a visit to a local orthopedic. He took x-rays and told me, "I know what is wrong with you! You have pseudo-gout in both your knees! That is why you have pain! Unfortunately though, there is nothing I can do for you." Huh? Whoa - wait a minute. So I said, "Pseudo WHAT?" and he began to explain what it is. Pseudo-gout is exactly what it is called, "pseudo" meaning "not genuinely, but having the appearance of" and gout - because that is what it acts like. Pseudo-gout is actually NOT gout at all!! It just manifests like gout. In actuality, pseudo-gout is calcium deposits within joints and not caused or affected by diet whatsoever. It basically afflicts OLDER people, literally people 70 and older. So after I understood the diagnosis, I asked "How come I have this?" and he said, "I have no freakin' idea! You shouldn't - you're way too young! It's very strange". He gave me a prescription for an anti-inflammatory and told me if I had another attack, to call him and he would give me a steroid injection. End of story, and I was on my way out the door before I could ask another question!

I was soon up 2400 mg of Motrin daily. It is the only thing that allowed me to be able to move. I chewed them like candy. How I haven't ended up with my stomach totally rotted, I do not know. I guess I'm lucky. Ha! Ha! A little dabble with humor there! Heck, it could always be worse!

Ok, so now I had something wrong with my neck and the surgeon wants to slice my neck open, I have this weird thing wrong with my knees that usually only old people get and my spine was evidently like the Leaning Tower of Pisa! I mean, are you kidding me? I knew that sitting down feeling bad for myself was not going to help a damn thing, but..................sometimes; you just need to sit and feel bad for yourself. I have learned since that moment that often the only thing to do is stand up and pull up yourself up by your boot straps, BUT in order to do that you need to fall first. And so, I fell. Into a heap on the floor. I stayed there until there was not one more tear to be shed. Then I calmly stood and I pulled up my boot straps. Suck it up, Valerie – just suck it up.

My first consultation with Dr. Glazer

     I couldn't sleep. What do I do? Do I call and face an ugly truth? Or do I ignore all of my symptoms and hope they go away? What do I do? What do I do? For all of you that know me well, this is what I do best. I waste time THINKING. And THINKING. And THINKING. I spend hours, days, weeks, months, even years THINKING. It's all I ever do. It's probably yet another syndrome!! Great - who's luckier than me?

     I finally fell asleep. I woke up the next morning and said, "I'm calling first thing this morning". I had coffee and decided I'd call after breakfast. After breakfast, I decided that I really needed to start the laundry. After that, I thought "I should really take a shower". I went upstairs to shower. In the middle of the shower, I thought, "If I don't call this second, I never will". I jumped out, wrapped a robe around me and went downstairs. I took out the telephone number that his wife gave me the night before and held it for a few minutes. Thinking. I stared at it for a while then cautiously picked up the phone. I dialed the number and before I could hang up, someone answered....."Good morning, Dr. Glazer's office". Yikes!! Do I hang up now?? She repeated, "Good morning, Dr. Glazer's office. Can I help you?" I nervously said, "Yes, I'd like to make an appointment" and she said, "Have you seen Dr. Glazer before?" and I said, "No. But I met him last night" and she said, "Oh how nice. Were you at the CT Scoliosis Chapter meeting?" and I said, "Yes, yes I was" and she said, "He was just telling me what a lovely time it was and how he enjoyed it immensely. Did you get to meet his wife?" and I said, "Yes, actually I sat right next to her. That is how I got the number" and she said, "Great" and proceeded to take my information. When I mentioned "Flatback", she knew exactly what I was talking about!! I felt relief. Before I knew it, I had an appointment for 3 weeks later. Oh boy. Now what had I gotten myself into!!!

     Why is it that time passes so quickly when you wish it wouldn't?? Suddenly 3 weeks had passed and I was on my way to Boston. I arrived at Boston's famous Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center and was bewildered by it all. Upon entering his office space, which sit's within the orthopedic wing, the receptionist was lovely. I was whisked to X-ray (of course! I should light in the dark at this point!) for by first set of 3-foot standing x-rays (remember them?) in quite some time!! I was then ushered to an exam room when suddenly a Fellow (a medical Fellow that is!), introduced himself and asked some questions. I didn't like him, he was abrupt. I thought, "Oh Lordy, maybe this isn't going to go so well after all!” Suddenly, Dr. Glazer appeared. He said, "It's good to see you again!" and I looked at him funny. I said, "This is my first appointment with you, but I did see you about 3 weeks ago at the CT Scoliosis Chapter meeting at Lawrence & Memorial Hospital" and he said, "I know! That's why I said it's good to see you again". Duh! I'm such a jerk sometimes!! He said, "Sweetie, you've got Flatback" and I said, "You've looked at my x-rays, huh?" and he said, "Nope, not yet, but I knew you had Flatback the second you entered the room that night. You have the stance and you have the walk". Oh. Great. Couldn't he just tell me that I DIDN'T have it???? Ugh.

     So he looked at my x-rays and then did some simple tests on me, including watching me stand and watching me walk. He sat down. This is what Dr. Glazer does. He sits down, speaks slowly and for a brief time, acts like he has no place else to be and he is all ears and all for you. Love the guy. I've always been a sucker for a man that knows how to listen! Really listen! I suppose it is a rather important part of his job. Actually it's probably not. Surgeons are notoriously cocky. Rightly so, I suppose. I would say that Dr. Glazer is, but in a humble kind of way - if that even makes sense. He proceeded to "formally" diagnose me and said, "You've got neck problems and I would suggest you let me fix that first". I said, "Why?" and he replied that his personal philosophy is "Why go through coping with revision surgery, which is not to be taken lightly, only to have to fix it later?? Plus I like to everything in working order so that revision is the last surgery and at that point you can just concentrate on recovery". I half listened to all of the details. I was lost at, "We enter through the front of the neck". Huh? Now I have to have a scar in the front of my neck too?? Are you kidding me??? I was done. I liked the guy, but I was all set. I was not having any neck surgery and NO ONE was slitting my throat and leaving me with yet another scar. Thanks but no thanks. K - bye. However, as he started to leave the room he said, "Well you have a lot to think about. Let me know what you want to do. Your Flatback WILL need to be addressed at some point, either by me or another surgeon. Just make sure he is experienced and you are ready, it's a helluva surgery and recovery". I said, "How will I KNOW when I am ready? What does that mean? Can't you tell me when I can't wait any longer"? He just smiled at me and quietly, in Dr. Glazer's way, said, "No dear, I can't. This surgery is different than most - it's grueling and it's the owner's responsibility. You'll know when you’re ready, trust me, you will just know" and he was gone. Poof! What the hell kind of answer is that, I ask you??? He can't leave this up to me?? I wasn't sure if I loved him or hated him at that moment. I knew one thing for sure - he was right. I had a lot to think about.

Ok, what do I do now??????

     In the meantime, while waiting for the next CT Scoliosis Chapter meeting and after much searching online, I found a web-based Support Group. I immediately signed up and started reading posts. I could not believe what I was reading. I felt at peace knowing there were so many others like me, yet so few. I felt peace knowing that I wasn't all by myself, yet I was so all alone. I felt at peace to know that there were people, mostly women, out there who could give me the support that I could get nowhere else. I still, after all of these years, belong to this Support Group. For close to six years now, these women have been my "sisters". I have seen them come and I have seen them go. I have seen the words of shock and anger and the words of acceptance. I have seen others get formally diagnosed, have surgery immediately and never hear from them again. But.....there are the select few, among them the group moderator and founder, Cam Maltby. Cam is a retired air traffic controller. She lives in Nantucket and her husband is a pilot for one of the major airlines. Cam had her surgery a few years before I even knew that I had Flatback and she has been an endless support to me. Funny though, over the years I shared so much of myself, yet I wouldn't know any of these women if I passed them on the street!!! Imagine people knowing so much about you, but they could walk right by you and you would never know it?!? On the opening page of the Support Group page is states:

     "The group focus is on members whose primary scoliosis surgeries took place in the 60's, 70’s, and 80’s and now find themselves facing the challenges of Flatback deformity and/or fixed sagittal imbalance which is often the result of the use of nonsegmental (Harrington rod) instrumentation. Flatback deformity is a loss of normal lumbar lordosis or curve. The medical term for this is fixed sagittal imbalance. Flatback typically develops when there has been a posterior spinal fusion with distraction instrumentation (ex: Harrrington rod). It is often accompanied by degeneration, instability, and stenosis. Most people also experience fatigue and muscle pain. A leaning forward posture, or being "bent over" is typical.
     Often this leads to revision surgery, which includes instrumentation and augmented fusion. Typically this reduces and stabilizes the Flatback deformity and reestablishes balance. With proper selection of technique for each individual patient's spine, a qualified and skilled surgeon may improve the patient’s pain, quality of life, and functional capacity. This is not an operation to be entered into lightly.
     This group offers members support and understanding while we each move through the decision to undergo, delay or forgo surgery. We also offer each other guidance, support and information on finding appropriate methods for reducing pre- and post- operative pain or disability. We are a safe and caring place to share life experiences as we each deal with our own personal “scoliosis odyssey”.

     I don't know where I would be without this group of compassionate and giving people (I am saying people because I hate to keep saying women, because we do have some male members. Remember though that Scoliosis affects dramatically more females than males, so this isn't unusual or unexpected!). There is a woman who belongs to the group who is a fabulous painter and she painted a portrait of a woman with scoliosis. It is the logo picture for our group. I wish I could paste it here on the site, I have tried numerous times but I think it may be copyrighted as it won't allow me to copy and paste it. I understand Ann wanting to protect her work, but I am saddened that I cannot share it with all of you. All I can say is that it completely represents "us". "Us" as in the Scoliosis community. The OLD Scoliosis community. It is a haunting portrait of a female with Scoliosis. I don't know if it is a self-portrait or not. All I know is that when I look at it, I see ME.

     The month passed quickly and soon I was heading to L&M for the CT Scoliosis Chapter's meeting. It was September 2004. Dr. Glazer was already there when I arrived (late, of course) and I quickly grabbed a seat next to a woman that I had not seen at the previous meetings. He was addressing Scoliosis in general, and then when discussing the new options for instrumentation, he proceeded to speak of Flatback. I did note that as soon as he said the word "Flatback", it was NOT my imagination, but he looked directly at me. The woman I was sitting next to, was charming and we began to quietly chit-chat back and forth and she seemed very nice. At one point, I mentioned that I had not seen her at any of the previous meetings that I had attended and inquired whether she had had surgery for Scoliosis and she very politely responded, "Oh no. I am Dr. So & So, I am Dr. Glazer's wife". Ohhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!! Duh! That's me! So she asked me if I had Scoliosis fusion and I said "Yes, many years ago" and I asked her for Dr. Glazer's business card. At that moment, I heard Dr. Glazer introducing her to the crowd and she was embarassed, as was I, because we hadn't been paying attention. We were like two young school girls ready to get in trouble with the teacher! He laughed it off and continued speaking. She quietly said to me, "Great wife I am!" and we laughed. After feverishly tearing her pocketbook apart, she blushed and apologized as she didn't have even one card. However, she had a pen and I had a piece of paper and she wrote his number down for me. She said, "I don't know what your issues are, but if anyone can help you, I KNOW that my husband can. Call him." I thanked her and then waited around for a little while in hopes to speak with the infamous Dr. Glazer, yet he was immediately ambushed by all of the other people, so I quietly left without ever speaking to him. Friends and coworkers asked me the next day why I didn't stay as long as possible to talk to him but I figured that if he had surgery the next morning, I didn't want to take any of his time. Free time. I hate when people do that. I mean make an appointment. Everyone seems to want something for free - even a medical diagnosis. All I knew was that if he was operating on me the next morning, I'd be wanting him well-rested. I distinctly recall one friend saying, "I would have never even thought of that!". Yeah, well I do. Sometimes I think I really do worry about everyone but me. There -- BELIEVE IT OR NOT -- is a name for this behavior. No lie, it is called SCOLIOSIS OVER-COMPENSATION SYNDROME! Oh dear God, now I have another syndrome! It never ends!! On the drive home that fateful night, I do remember questioning myself, "Do I call or don't I?" That was the big question.

2000-2004

     I distinctly remember being so happy on New Year's Eve, 1999. I was eager to start the year 2000. So much hype and it was simply the passing of an old decade into a new one. That August, 21 years after my initial first day of working at Westerly Jewelry, I went back. At that point, the business was just being purchased by my dear friend Kevin, who had been the jeweler there since the early 80's. I was happy to return and call him "Boss". I even remember my first day back, it was a Saturday. At the end of the day, I felt rejuvenated - back in the work force at last - and I was in a familiar place! It felt like being back with family. I returned to work for a few days a week, and although it took a little bit of time to adjust to being on my feet all day, I did get used to it after a few weeks. At first, all was well. About 2 years in, I suddenly noticed that my back was aching, an unfamiliar ache, at the end of particularly long days. Naturally, one can reason that away. Plus, the floors were cement under the carpeting, which was increasingly difficult on the legs and back.


     Although for years I was always complimented on my posture, one day at the store it suddenly struck me that it had been quite some time since anyone had complimented me AND in fact, had been frequently being asked, "Is something wrong with your back?" or "Is you back hurting you?" or "Did you hurt your back?". Although it would be aching at times, there was no significant pain, per se. During the next year, I had to finally start to wonder if something was going on and acknowledged -only to myself- that I probably should find an orthopedic trained and experienced in "older" fusions, for a checkup. But where do you begin to find one??

     Suddenly I realized that end that end of some days, I was finding it particularly difficult to stand up straight?? What was that about?? I would find it more comfortable to lean on kitchen counter. After a few months of this occurring more frequently, I started to get a little nervous. But..........I, of course, chose to ignore it. Until one night, I was at the computer and I was tired and my back was hurting. Before shutting down, I was thinking of my back and thought, "Hmmm, maybe I should look online for doctors with expertise in old fusions", when suddenly the thought of my Harrington Rods entered my mind instead. I immediately started to wonder if they still used Harrington Rods, so - for the fun of it - I entered "HARRINGTON ROD" into the search box when BOOM! There was surprisingly TONS of information, but as I started to open things, none seemed to pertain to me because they kept referring to something called "Flatback Syndrome". Well, I didn't have that, so I kept searching. I kept hitting a brick wall though. So, on a whim, I started reading the page, when suddenly I came to yet another paragraph referring to "Flatback". However, in this box, it said, "If you had spinal fusion due to Scoliosis during the years of 1950 and 1980, the likelihood of now having Flatback Syndrome is great - CLICK HERE". I stared at it for a minute. I had mine in 1974. That would be me! I fit into that group. OMG - does this pertain to me?? Afraid to find out, I sat there a little while longer. Let's call it an inner instinct that I knew that this was indeed going to pertain to me and I was going to need a few minutes to muster up the courage to CLICK HERE. Finally, as if someone else’s were guiding my hand, I clicked.

     There was a picture of a woman. A woman they described as having a Harrington Rod, who was now suffering from something called "Flatback Syndrome" - and they were claiming it was all due to the Harrington Rod! Well, this could not be. Until I scrolled down and realized that this was MY stance. Knees bent, not being able to stand up straight any more. I started reading and reading and reading. I was up for hours reading. I went to bed sobbing, realizing that although I had just on a whim decided to Google "Harrington Rod", I had in fact opened Pandora's Box. And a large box it is. I think I walked around in a daze for a week or so, re-reading the information nightly. I suddenly came to the realization that I needed to get this checked - somehow, someway. I needed to find out that I DIDN'T have it and I was wrong. But deep down, I knew that I had diagnosed myself online. After a week or two, I called my sister Michele and told her. She said, "You can't diagnose yourself online!" and I said, "I know it sounds ridiculous, but I KNOW that I have this". I then told some people I work with and they too wondered if I could be sure. I mean, who diagnoses’ them self online - unless you are a hypochondriac or something! Once I began to accept that I may just have something wrong with me, I started doing a little more research, determining who exactly these orthopedic "specialists" were and where they were located. What I soon found out was that it was indeed a SPECIALITY and that there were only a handful of orthopedic surgeons across the country that have any relevant experience with people diagnosed with Flatback. There was a name that stuck out in the Boston area, a couple in NYC, one in SC, one prominent surgeon in Amarillo, TX and a couple in California. That was it! I knew then we were talking serious stuff. I joined the Scoliosis Association and found there was a Scoliosis Chapter in CT at Lawrence & Memorial Hospital. I called and decided on attending the next meeting. There was no one like me; they were basically people younger than me who actually had just recently (previous 10 years) had their surgeries. It was more a support group, although they did have speakers and guests. At the end of the 2nd meeting, the chairperson announced that the next month’s meeting we were going to have a "special" guest. His name was Dr. Paul Glazer from Boston - a world-renowned spine surgeon. Glazer??? I quickly thought, "I think that is the name of the guy I read about from Boston""! I came home and looked - sure enough. I decided I would NOT miss the next meeting for anything in the world.

The 90's

 The summer that Ben turned one, it was 1992. My friend Robin had called and asked if I wanted to meet her at her mother's pool for the afternoon. I said "Sure". I took a couple of trips down to the car, with Erica playing in the Playroom and Ben in his playpen. At last, it was time to grab the baby and Erica, but I decided to just grab my pocketbook and diaper bag and bring it down to the car first. I went down the first step and BOOM!!! My sandal slipped underneath me and I fell as if it were in slow motion. It was as if someone had a cord that kept me completely in sitting up position and my tailbone hit 9X and I stopped at the bottom with both my feet wedges up against the cement wall. I experienced the strangest sensation - I had a sharp pain that went up my spine and my legs felt like they were very heavy and then, NO FEELING whatsoever. As I tried to get up, I couldn't move and suddenly both of my legs felt like pins and needles. Erica, who had just turned 5, ran to one of our neighbors and she came running to help me. By the time she was here, I had regained my composure and she managed to help me up. The feeling was back in my legs, but I was scared. At the ER, they took x-rays and told me that I had severely fractured my tailbone and there is absolutely nothing you can do for it. It just takes time to heal.

A couple of days later, I called Dr. Hardy's office and got an appointment for about a month later. We went and I took my x-rays with me. He was aghast and said it was a significant break and it was barely just showing signs of healing, but he said in time it would be alright. He did comment that it would probably ache from time to time - and he was right. It was at this appointment that Bob asked Dr. Hardy if I was going to okay as time went on and as I aged that Dr. Hardy yelled at him saying, "Look at her!! Look at these x-rays?!? Does she look like she is going to be okay?? Of course, she is not going to be okay!” I was stunned! What did he mean? I thought I had been cured? I thought it was all behind me? What was he talking about?? Sadly, I never asked. I never pushed. I just looked at him. The appointment was now over and we left. I KNOW now that he knew exactly why I wasn't going to be okay and I am now so disillusioned with the man that I had looked up to, the man whom I had previously respected so much. I left that office trying to forget what he said, but deep down, I knew that what he said had a meaning beyond what I could understand at the time. Guess what I did? Yep - I fell asleep on the car ride home from Hartford. Fast asleep................

     Several years later, I kept experiencing this pain in my groin when I would stand too long, but then it would go away.

     I also started realizing that I couldn't turn my neck as far as I always had been able or that it would feel "stiff" if I kept it turned.

     Suddenly, my arms were falling asleep at night too. And why did my groin hurt so much when I walked alot?

     My shoulder blades were hurting too. It was as if I had pulled a muscle around and underneath them.

    Strange little indications that something wasn't right. But I ignored all of these signs. Until one day, I thought, "Well, I probably should just go back to Dr. Hardy, it's been a few years". So I called. I was stunned and scared when I heard the receptionist say, "Dr. Hardy retired last year. Would you like to see one of his associates?". One of his associates?? Was she crazy? He retired and didn't tell me?? The nerve of him! Now what was I supposed to do?? I chose to do nothing. I chose to ignore it all.

Moving on to baby #2............

     In the spring of 1990, I was stressed. I had an active 2-year old and we were building a brand new home. One day, I decided to see how far I could run. Well, once again, I got to a 1/8th of a mile, before huffing and puffing. I had been thinking of joining a Step class at the Y, but felt so out of shape that I figured I better get in better shape to join a Step class! Wow - isn't that a weird way of thinking?? Or maybe not? Are there any other women out there reading this that can relate? Has anyone tried to get in shape to join an exercise class?? I must admit, it seems stupid now all these years later. Anyhow, I decided to try running again and sure enough, within a few weeks, I was up to a mile or two. I then joined the Y and started doing Step 2-3X a week. I recall in class one day, the instructor commented that although she loved Step too, that one should never do it more than twice a week, due to the stress it put on the knees. Knees?? My knees were healthy, I was fine. I felt strong, I felt energetic and I felt good. One day, after a particularly grueling 4 mile run, my back was hurting me. I remember that I ran off a curb and my ankle twisted slightly and although I managed to keep from falling, I think I twisted my back. I skipped Step class that night and two nights later as well. By the next week, I was feeling fine. The instructor asked how I come I hadn't made class the previous week, and so I told her about my back. She looked aghast and said, "Oh my, have you checked with your doctor? I'm not sure you should be doing Step class and you run???” I replied, "Oh no, I'm fine. I actually only have a small list of things I can't do". She looked at me with a skeptical eye and said to me, "Well, I can tell you that if I were you, I wouldn't be doing this OR running". I said, "Really?” She replied, "Really. If I were you, I'd be swimming and stretching and that's it!" I thought, "What does she know? She's just some bimbo in a leotard!' I mean, MY doctor never said anything about not running and he certainly never said anything about my knees!! I kept up the Step class for another year and in the end, I was running 3-5 miles, several times a week. I was feeling wonderful.

     Soon after we moved into our house in August of 1991, I became pregnant with my son. I gave up Step and the running. I was in the best physical shape of my life and I was now pregnant, I figured I had been given a "pass" on eating!! Benjamin Robert Delaney was born on June 22, 1992. Now, if you'll recall, I only gained 17 lbs. during my pregnancy with Erica. Well, with Ben, I gained 42 lbs.!!!! Yeah, big difference. Looking back, this must have been very hard on my spine - between the physical stress that I was putting on it for the previous two years and then stopping suddenly and gaining more than 40 lbs. in less than 9 months. Not good. Ben's due date was June 15 and one week later, on June 22, my Ob/Gyn sent me to hospital for a non-Stress test to see how the baby was doing, since I was now a week late. I arrived early in the morning, they hooked me up to the fetal monitor and I simply lay there pressing the button when I would feel the baby move. I was always concerned that this baby never moved as much as Erica had. He moved, just not a lot. I remember asking the doctor about this more than once and he assured me that the heartbeat was strong. As I expected, the baby wasn't moving much, so they gave me some orange juice to drink, explaining that the sugar can sometime get them "moving". No luck. Then they came in and started making a lot of loud noise, in an attempt to "wake" the baby up. I started feeling a little more movement then. They told me they were going to have me lay there for 10 more minutes and they all walked away. Up until the point, the heart rate was strong and regular. No sooner had the nurses walked away and drawn the curtain again, the baby’s heart rate stuttered fluttering and sounding like it was "skipping". Two nurses came running back in and said, "What just happened?" and I replied, "I don't know, but I heard that. What does that mean?” Suddenly there was the doctor on call and they were doing a sonogram. They told me nothing except that the baby seemed a little large and he was, just like his sister, in a posterior position. I recall the doctor saying to me, "If you think you've had back pain before, you're going to soon find out that you didn't know what back pain was!” Gee, thanks. I explained that my daughter had been in a posterior position too and asked if she could try to turn the baby and she said she could. She tried, but was unsuccessful. Eventually, they hooked me up to Pictocin, explaining that they were uncomfortable with the "skipping" heartbeat and were going to induce me. I was in labor all day and I experienced the same syndrome with this baby as I did with Erica. Evidently, for some unknown reason, when I dilate to around 9 cm, instead of the continuous expansion of my uterus and cervix, it begins to contract and close. This is what happened when during the labor with Erica when they decided to use forceps and were successful. This time however, everyone seemed in a panic and I was in awful, awful pain. I was never allowed any pain med's whatsoever and by now, I was beside myself. At this point the heartbeat was completely erratic and they announced that I was going in for a C-sect. In the moment, I was thrilled - let's get this over with. I would have done anything to eliminate the pain. For some reason, I was told that none of the anesthesiologists were answering their pages and it was all being held up for one of them to respond. I was MAD!! I look back now, hmmm...........sounds like a story that could have had an absolutely horrendous ending. It was 3 hours between the time I was told I was going to need a C-sect until the time the baby was born. One thing I did recall was that Dr. Hardy had told my mother that I wouldn't be able to have a spinal, so if I was to require a C-section, then I would have to endure general anesthesia. I tried to tell the medical people that, in between the more painful contractions, and they ignored me. Soon, I was screaming mad and in the OR. I recall the anesthesiologist saying to me, "Where exactly are you fused?” I replied, "I DON'T KNOW". In that moment, I really couldn't remember. He said he was going to try at L1 and I said, "NO, I'm fused at L1" and he said he was going to try anyway. I grabbed him by the arm and said, "You do and something bad happens, I will sue you and this whole hospital, do you hear me?” The whole room was staring at me, he looked up and said, "We're doing general anesthesia". As I became unconscious, I realized everyone was staring at me like I was some lunatic and the next thing I knew was I was waking up in Recovery. I remember having to ask, "What did I have?" and they said, "A boy". And that's it. That's all they said. Honest, it was as if I was among enemies. I was finally brought to my room where Bob was waiting and I said, "Oh my God, we have a boy" and he said, "Yeah, and a BIG one". I said, "What?" and he said, "Didn't they tell you?" and I said "No". He then announced to me that I had an almost 10 lb. baby boy, with a 14" head AND chest and he was 22 1/2" long! A mini football player!! I remember one of the nurses saying as I walked down to see him in the nursery, "Don't worry, you'll recognize him, he's the biggest baby there!" and he was. He looked HUGE compared to the other babies!! I recall when my ob/gyn (he didn't do the delivery, how I wish he had. I had the doctor on call) came to see me the next day, I said, "How did I have such a big baby?" and he said, "It was all that pizza you ate! You gained 40 lbs.!!” Once again, gee thanks. Several days later, I took my little man home and thought "How am I ever going to lose all this weight?”

     Amazingly, 17 1/2 years later, I think I still have all 40 lbs. Ugh!

Moving On & Growing Up

     So, here I was, almost 14 years old and I had just experienced something that no one I knew had experienced. I had no common bond with anyone I knew. Making friends again was awkward and difficult, at best. I was happy to have the cast off for good, immediately feeling a sense of relief that people wouldn't be staring at me anymore. However, I soon was constantly inundated with the same question, over and over again, from people I knew and from strangers. It was "How come you stand so straight?” Although I was happy to have the whole scoliosis saga behind me, I still felt "different". Everything I did was done differently, whether it was bending over to tie my shoes, or just sitting. I was young and limber then though, which made it easier to "compensate" and use other muscles and ligaments to facilitate the way my body moved. Things were progressing slowly and I was very tentatively getting back to life as a "normal" 14 year old. Sort of anyway. Another situation that bothered me alot was going to the beach. Of course, one-piece bathing suits were not in fashion for a 14 year old back in 1975, so as I headed to the beach that summer in a bikini, I was mortified at how many people - mostly strangers- would literally stop and ask me about my "scar". "Wow" they would say, "What happened to you?". It got to be that I would just lay on the blanket all day and not go into the water anymore. Soon one-piece bathings suits became popular and that helped a lot. I soon realized that if I bought bathings suits that came up high on the back and my hair was long, no one would know. Here, I no longer had a cast to bog me down, but I was still feeling like I had something to "cover up". I was still hiding. To this day, I am astounded by the random, complete strangers who will STILL come up to me at the beach and ask me about my scar. I find it mortifying on two accounts. Number #1, I would NEVER do that. My mother always taught me to never bring things like that to attention, so as to spare someone's feelings. Number #2, doesn't everyone know that it is upsetting to be addressed on personal matters? And personally, I would consider a horrific scar that runs down the length of one's spine to be of a personal nature. When I was younger, I would be so embarassed. Now, I'm old enough to recognize the absurdity of tactless people and I can easily look someone in the eye and say, "I don't really think it is any of your business". Because frankly, it isn't.


     One night during the summer of '76, I was watching a TV movie late at night. Everyone was in bed but me. It was hot and the windows were open and I was intently following the movie. I really don't recall the name of it or even the premise, but there was a scene that made me jolt up off the couch and I found myself so engrossed in the story line. It was about a woman who had just had a baby and she was unable to give birth naturally and they had to perform a cesarean section and the woman went into a deep depression because of this. All of a sudden, I recalled that my mother had asked Dr. Hardy about my having children and his response was that I may have to have a cesarean section!! I hadn't thought much of it at the time, but for some reason, now I did. OMG! Did this mean I was not a "real" woman? Did this mean that if I couldn't do it "normally", that I wasn't "worthy". I didn't sleep all night, I was aghast at the sudden comprehension of all of this. As soon as my mother awoke the next morning, I was sitting on the couch waiting for her. She looked at me and asked, "What's wrong?" and I started crying. She came over and said, "What is it?" and I told her about the TV movie and how I was suddenly feeling awful that I probably wouldn't be able to give birth naturally and she smiled and said, "Valerie, HOW the baby is born is not really all that important, it's the mother that you will be that will matter" but I wasn't hearing any of it. I was devastated. I became obsessed with the notion of a having to have a cesarean section and I don't remember when it passed, but it finally did. But somehow, I really just buried it and those feeling of despair would come back to me in years to come.

     I went through the High School years with very little ramification from the surgeries. Usually people seemed impressed and downright jealous that my posture was so superb and I was able to get out of taking gym in 11th and 12th grade. Ya-hoo! I HATE physical activity! I'm a couch potato! Always was and always will be. I was at an appointment with Dr. Hardy in 11th grade and I told him that someone knocked me over during a basketball game and he was appalled and said, "Well, we can't be having that happen! No more gym, are you okay with that?" I wanted to say, "Are you kidding me? ARE YOU KIDDING ME??" Truth be told, I could have jumped for joy! He just made me the happiest 11th grader ever. I can proudly say I haven't touched a basketball since! Ha! Ha! I did however start doing something else that Dr. Hardy never said I couldn't, and yet I have no doubt now, harmed me. Running. During the summer before I was a senior, I started running a little bit with a friend of sister's. Her name was Carol and she was on the track team and I don't recall how she managed to get me involved, but I found myself hating and loving it. I went from panting and not being able to run a 1/8 mile to running 2 miles. I was so proud of myself, but mostly I loved that I was losing weight. My sister Michele was always thin and I was tired of everyone commenting how I was "chubby". Well, yeah maybe compared to her, but I was NOT chubby. I am a bigger-boned person than her, but I look back now and how foolish to have felt "fat". I was 5'5" and I weighed 118 lbs. Michele was the same height but weighed about 105!! All I can say is I'd doing anything to weigh 118 again!! As soon as Carol and Michele headed to college, I gave up the running because none of my friends were into that. I didn't miss it.

     I graduated from HS in June 1979 and everything was going swimmingly. I was still seeing Dr. Hardy and I had now progressed to only having to see him every 2 years. He would always examine me and take x-rays and tell me how good I looked, how impressed he was with his work on me and how I was a "success" story. Everything was perfect! Regrettably, I didn't choose college. I went to work at Westerly Jewelry Co., Inc. right after HS. The years passed, I became engaged and married at 21 and then my world came to a crashing halt. My mother, the wisest and strongest woman I have ever known, unexpectedly died. My dear mother passed away on September 4, 1985 from a massive and sudden heart attack. She was all of 5 feet and I think the only time she probably ever weighted more than a hundred pounds was when she was pregnant with me or one of my sisters. Remember, I call her the "granola cruncher". Other than having smoked cigarettes since she was about 12 or 14 years old, my mother was basically a healthy person. Obviously, she was not overweight, she loved to exercise (I didn't inherit that desire!) she adored fresh foods, including an array of fruits and vegetables. My mother’s idea of a "treat" was a nice, ripe plum in the evening. I'd be dreaming of chocolate truffles and she'd say, "Want a peach?” Ay-yi-yi!! I mean I love fruit too, but c'mon - how about a little chocolate, you know? The only real sweets that she liked was pie. Fruit pies, she adored. Like blueberry or strawberry. I was devastated by her sudden death and to this day, I am still not sure I have ever healed. It was a very emotionally traumatic period in my life, but my mother had done a fine job raising her daughters. We are all very strong and independent women and we were taught that nothing can get you down if you don't let it, and I decided early on that what my mother would have really wanted was for me to hold my chin up and move on. I have tried to do that every day since her death, some days proving to be easier than others. As they say, life does indeed go on, for what other choice do we have? I look back now, at 48 years old, and I realize what a phenomenal woman my mother really was and I only wish I could have her back for even just one day so that I could tell her how proud I am to be her daughter. She taught me well, I'd describe myself as having a fair amount of wisdom and common sense and I no doubt, get that from her. My mother was definitely not what one would have considered "book smart" (and neither am I!) but I realize now that she really was one of the smartest women I have ever known. If you're around Mom, thank you and I love you. But I am still really, really mad at you for dying on me!

     I stayed employed full-time at Westerly Jewelry right up until the birth of my first child, my daughter Erica Rose, in July 1988. Labor was very difficult, lasting well over 24 hours. I experienced horrendous back labor pain because she was in a posterior position in the birth canal. Delivery was finally accomplished with the use of forceps and I was able to say that Dr. Hardy was wrong - no c-sect for me! I was so very proud of that fact. However, I almost wished afterwards that I did have a C-sect. Erica was only 7 lbs. 6 oz. but she was most certainly too big for me to deliver. I couldn't even sit for days! Ouch! The labor was so awful, I was certain that I wouldn't be having anymore babies, C-sect or natural delivery, I was done with that!! I had only gained 17 lbs. with Erica, which I lost quite quickly and soon resumed a moderate exercise plan with videos that I would do while Erica napped or on the treadmill. I bounced right back and I felt no ill effects of the pregnancy on my back. I was 27 years old, I was healthy and felt great, and I had a healthy baby girl. What more could anyone ask for? Life was good.