Truth in Advertising

Hi folks,
For the last several days my thoracic spine has been really painful--like keeping me up at night, the perscription drugs from last fall are looking really appealing kind of painful. I've been wracking my brain trying to think of something, anything, I've done lately that might be causing it and I'm coming up blank.

Over the course of the last two days I've started seriously regretting having this surgery done at all. It's a horrible feeling to think that I went through all that shit of the last year and came out on the other side being in pain more often than I ever was before.

Max convinced me to call the surgeon's office tonight and hopefully get a quickie appointment for tomorrow. I'm hoping that a little physical therapy and body retraining will be all that's required, but this is a pretty dramatic change from a month ago so I'm kind of nervous about what might be revealed.

More Tylenol, ice-packs, and trying to get to sleep for me now.

My favorite person of the moment:

Allow me to introduce you to Clayton. He has generously posted the thematic variations of each evening of SEAF for our costuming coordination and pleasure as conceived by Crushed Velvet. I don't know if I'll have the stamina for all three nights, but the idea of that much costuming fun might just do the trick. (small complain-y note: WHITE?! really? Talk about your wear-it-once costume. I'll give it a shot, but if I don't find something truly spectacular and white, I'm not afraid to buck the system here)

Clayton also recently posted a call for a SEAF stage manager. In much the same way that I failed to honestly consider my physical condition while offering to help Russell with his Flogging workshop by stunt bottoming, I couldn't resist asking more about this stage management position. I've been itching to get back into performance tech since before the surgery. I would love to get on board with a production like this some time, but I don't think this is the year to give that a shot. Waiting stinks. (In good news he also posted later that they found someone who is likely to be a very good match!)

In other news, for those following along with the healing/recovery time-line and experiences:
I'm not posting much about this lately because it has really become much less apparent in my life. I'm past 80%, but certainly not 100%. With the support of my family, I make it to the gym and work out 3-4 times per week (which is 3-4 more times per week than I did a year ago). I continue to notice little improvements in strength and flexibility, while trying to stay cognizant of using good body mechanics and not over-working my back. In other words, just because I can bend or reach something at an odd angle doesn't mean I should.

Of Breeding and Cookie Baking

Relax friends and loved ones, I haven't fallen prey to the biological clock, but I do have some observations.

I work in a place that sometimes puts me in direct contact with crumb crunchers and their parents. I've been avoiding this part of my job since surgery, but today I felt strong enough to give it a shot again. (I was wrong) I found myself in a position that required I pick up a small munchkin to insure his safety. If my physical therapist is reading this she'll be happy to know I used all the good body-mechanics we discussed in the process. He was probably less than 25 pounds so not entirely out of my range of ability, but women tend to carry babies differently from laundry baskets. The maternal instincts that forced me to toss him on one hip did me in.

Which brings me to my suggestion for adult women considering this surgery. It's all about timing ladies! Either have the surgery once your children are old enough to understand why you can't pick them up (age 5 or 6), or have the surgery before breeding. Picking up babies 5 months post-op is really really really tempting and, in my first-hand experience, a very bad idea.

My job has also prompted a round of cookie baking tonight. We're having a kind of open house in our building tomorrow and everyone is bringing some kind of treat. My contribution will be Oatmeal Butterscotch and Oatmeal Chocolate Chip cookies (eta: the recipe link). This is the first time I've made these cookies in over two years. I used to refer to them as the cookies of death. However, since I'm hoping that I'll bake enough cookies to have a few left over for Skippy's memorial on Thursday, I'm hesitant to broadcast the nickname too loudly. Nickname or no, just the act of baking these cookies is comforting to my mixed-up emotions. I must be getting old, somebody died and I have a very strong urge to bake a casserole in a transportable container. (I don't even EAT casserole, much less know how to cook it)

PS. If say someone were to drop by before I go to work tomorrow, he or she might be able to snag a very fresh, very tasty (Russell approved) cookie. There's oatmeal in the cookies so they count as breakfast...right?!

Landmarks

Landmarks of recovery just keep racing up on me lately.

Bondage-focused scene with Max: Check
Working a 40-hour week: Check
Scrubbing the tub so I could take a girlie bath: Check
Passing muscle tests at physical therapy: Check
Submitting "Art" to SEAF: Check
Dancing at Bang for the Buck! (even though it's coming up a month earlier than I'd expected): Obviously I can't check this off quite yet, but I'm pretty confident in my ability to drop my drawers in less than two minutes without falling on my butt or otherwise hurting myself. This is a really big one for me folks. I pinned this goal to my wall very shortly after deciding to have this surgery. It was so much fun last year I started planning for it with Kaylee the morning after the event. I think the only thing that having a month less time to prepare physically will affect is my footwear. I'm just not ready for the risks of 6" spike heels yet. Fortunately, we have this covered.

The 80/20 Rule

In my favorite class from grad-school ever ("Non-profit Management" of all things), I was introduced to the 80/20 rule. Essentially, when one embarks on a sizable task a vast majority (say 80%) of the progress is made during the initial piece (say 20%) of time and energy invested. This was used in the context of starting up non-profits and exercising. Part of the point of the discussion was to evaluate whether 80% was enough to meet the needs of the initial project thus freeing up a significant chunk of time and energy for other projects. It's hard for perfectionist, control-freaks like myself to grasp, but sometimes "good enough" is really truly "good enough" Other times though that 20% of change and improvement has a big enough over-all impact to merit the 80% energy investment.

At three months after surgery I feel like I'm 80% percent back. I can work full days, I can shake-it at Grind, and now Max can safely tie me up again. Basically, all systems are go.
So what might I spend the next 80% of my time and energy working to accomplish?
Growing a back bone (literally), regaining muscle, training my body to be flexible in different ways, increasing stamina, and other boring, slow-changing stuff. Also safely supporting my body while in full suspensions, picking on Kaylee until she wears out before me, wrestling with Russell, and swing dancing. Those are all things that fell solidly into the "not sure if I'll get them back" category when I started this journey, but I think well worth the effort.

And honestly, if I can get into this (NSFW) position just three months after being barely able to walk down the hallway, I don't see any reason not to keep going forward.

The Three-Month Check-up

When your surgeons are so proud of themselves they want to bring in other members of the practice to show you off during your appointment, it's a pretty good sign things are going well.

We established that the thing poking prominently out of my back is probably a cross-link, (one of two pieces that attach my two longer rods together to keep them from tipping to the side). Since I'm young enough and strong enough, I probably only need one cross-link to stabilize the fusion. Dr. Williams gave me the option of going in and removing it right away. He estimated it would be a 1-hour surgery with one night stay in the hospital. Much less traumatic than the original surgery. However, the original surgery is still very fresh in my memory. So long as it's only a cosmetic nuisance, I'm quite happy to leave it in until I'm at least a year out from surgery.

My nerve explosions/phantom piercings were a mystery to the doctors. Not a concerning mystery, just one of those things that doesn't have an exact cause and will probably go away with time. Since my mom (who had scoliosis surgery 44 years ago) has been living with them alright for as long as I can remember, I'm not too concerned.

I also got permission to return to work full-time, so today was my first full day of work since the end of September. This is the calm-before-the-storm season for my job so working full-time isn't really necessary. The good news is, I can stop sucking the paid leave resources dry and I'm not overwhelmed with high-impact duties. The less good news is I'm at a loss for what to do during the extra couple hours.

Nerve Explosions!

There's something about the way nerves grow back or die off completely that I don't fully understand. It results in sudden, sharp, tingling sensations that my mom calls nerve explosions. In mixed or vanilla circles that seems like a pretty apt description to me.

Given my more recent experiences, I'm inclined to describe them to members of the kink community as phantom piercings.

Imagine if you will my kinky friends, someone sneaks up behind you and pops a needle in your back--no warning, no warm-up, just wham-o. Sometimes this imaginary sadist just pops it in and leaves it alone, the sensation fades pretty quickly and you can pretend like nothing happened. Other times though the person decides to twist it and push on it for a minute or two requiring that you explain to the rest of the room why you're making that particular face and breathing funny. It would be much more entertaining if everyone else could see the glee on imaginary sadist's face too.

For some people this is just a passing phase of the recovery, for others it's a constant annoyance that never goes away. I'm not sure which way things will turn out for me, but right now they seem to be increasing in both frequency and intensity. What fun!

PT Learning Curve

I had the first physical therapy appointment today and boy do I feel incompetent. Once again, yes I realize my feelings have no basis in reality, but there they are anyway.

Getting to the office and parking was extra fun due to construction in the area, but fortunately I had those annoying "first-time visit" forms filled out ahead of time. I was properly chastised for not becoming completely familiar with my insurance policy's coverage of physical therapy and then introduced to Mark the PT. We chatted for a bit and then he tested my "multifidus" which failed completely. I was prepared for weak, but this was completely non-responsive. We went over a few exercises to hopefully wake this little muscle back up. Then he had me on my side and started poking...nay prodding at my spine all along the fusion! The desire to reach back and clobber him was strong, but I'm a good little bottom so I just let him know it hurt and then tried to breath through it. The multifidus was not actually on the list of things Dr. Williams wrote on the perscription, so we weren't done when he'd finished the sadistic portion of our session. He gave me a couple more exercises for my upper back. I left with a pile of papers and just about zero confidence in my ability to accomplish any of it.

I have a whopping total of 6 exercises that will probably take less than 15 minutes a day to complete. Short of daily walks during recovery period, I cannot think of a single time when I successfully maintained a daily exercise schedule. This is a really big change in habit I'm asking of myself right now and today I feel like I'm not going to be able to do it.

Do I know anyone who does a daily routine? How did you start? How do you keep going?

Feeling a little screwed

I had my second post-op appointment yesterday. In which I got to point out a discovery I made Sunday night: one of the screws can be easily felt through the skin on my back. I've now been prescribed physical therapy to build up the muscles in my upper back hoping that we can hide it. The other option is to open me up again and take the screw out. Hard work resulting in strong shoulders and a pretty back or more surgery resulting in more time out of work and another scar...hmmm let me think about that for a minute. Honestly, I've never had strong shoulders, disturbingly flexible yes, but strong no. Historically I've been more than a little lazy when it comes to exercise for body maintenance. Part of what I wanted to get out of this surgery journey was a little more dedication to actively taking care of my body. Time to start learning some new habits.

Shortly after the appointment my period started complete with debilitating cramps. I can't take anti-inflammatories because they'll slow the fusion. I only made it an hour and a half at work and quite possibly should not have driven myself home. When I got home to the only pain pills I can take, I took the maximum dose. I felt fine (if a little worn out) for about an hour, then slept for a couple more hours, then woke up and vomited my way through the rest of the night. I've been spending today coddling my cramps with non-chemical remedies and trying to properly apologize to my liver for yesterday's sin. I hope I can work longer days the rest of this week otherwise I'm going to need a lot more help from my coworkers than I thought.

Dry spell is over!

On Thanksgiving, I worked and danced at Grind after spending all day cooking and enjoying the company of Russell, Kaylee and her husband. Then the next night, I had the first play-focused overnight date with Max in two months. I can confidently say I feel my life coming back in some of the most important ways. I have a mental image of a big wet thunderstorm washing over a dry and dusty town. I can almost smell it. (inside note: I'd go out and play in it more if I didn't hate getting water in my face so much *grins*)

That's not to say that my body is no longer full of frustrating quirks--things like I can dance off and on for hours but can't comfortably sit on my couch without the risers, or I can play to remarkably intense levels but can't easily change position in bed.

Still getting better.

I put in a 6-hour day at work today and really wasn't tired or sore at the end of it.

Also, I got a full night's sleep that resulted in me waking up before 9 AM this morning.

The sleepful night may have been a result of the impromptu fun that kept me awake much too long on Monday night. Note the complete lack of regret in that statement please :)

I think I'll sleep and feel better more consistently if I start getting more exercise. The plan was to start water aerobics at the fancy gym a mile or so from work where I currently have a suspended membership. Trouble is it's really dark even when I leave work at 4PM right now, and I don't like getting wet, and I don't like wearing a bathing suit, and I don't know how the group of older heavy women would really feel about young little me dropping in on their class. I've avoided the gym all together because of this. The current plan is to drop the fancy gym membership and join the chain-gym that is 3 blocks from my house... still waiting on the follow-through for that.

SteamPunk Night

On Saturday, the Wetspot (centerforsexpositiveculture) hosted a spectacular steampunk-themed pansexual play party. (Here's a link to a NY Times article for those who have little or no background in this little subculture) Once I committed to going, I finally had something to entertain my brain while I waited to go back to work: "OMG What ever will I wear?!"

I tapped back into my amateur costume design days from college theater. First I spent hours and hours on research and generally soaking up images from the genre. Then I produced about 5 sketches of possible costumes built mostly out of things I already owned. Then it was time to scour the city for the missing costume pieces, always keeping an eye open for previously unexplored possibilities. It wasn't until the morning before the party while standing in the table linen department of Goodwill that I knew for certain which costume I was going to wear.

Words cannot do justice to the costume in its completed state, but I failed to take any pictures so you'll just have to deal: A floor-length black satin skirt with a crimson brocade "bustle" below a black satin waist cincher and low-cut crimson cap-sleeve top underneath a black velvet and satin waist-jacket all topped off with a sparkly black top-hat with crimson ribbon trim. Twist the hair up carefully and apply some dramatic make-up (the only kind I know how to put on) and voila one high-class steampunk lady just waiting for an urchin to pick on. Kaylee and her costume were more than happy to oblige said lady.

I'm sure there's more to steampunk than playing dress up, but really that's all Kaylee and I needed to get out of it. Exhibitionist that we are, Kaylee and I just couldn't resist the temptation of a lively audience so I topped again for the first time that night. Things went marvelously well though a few days later my legs did have something to say to me about the amount of up and down I did that night. When you're not bending above the waist (surgery + waist cincher = NO bending), it's possible to look extremely prim and propper while paddling your girlfriend's breasts and butt. I'm sure this is a trick all the pros already know, but I thought I'd pass it on for the rest of you.

Back to Work Report

Oh Em Gee my back really really hurts. I'm going to try resting for a little bit, but I'm not above finding my pain-med bottle again if this doesn't feel better soon.

So, besides the post-work back pain, how was it?
I got up later than I'd planned and with a tweak in my back. I seriously considered not going in today at all. Then I woke up a little more and just let things move at their own pace. By 12:30 I was ready to go give this whole office job thing a shot.

I wandered into my office where my office mate was fully embroiled in a writing project. We exchanged happy returns noises, but there wasn't the "Squeee! I'm so glad you're back!" reaction I was expecting. It wasn't a big deal as I know she loves me and there were plenty of people checking in and looking for tales. I didn't get much actual work done. I don't think anyone expected me to get much done today though. Most of the "work" I did today was simply remembering what my job is. I'm looking forward to actually accomplishing something tomorrow.

Tangent about sitting at the desk: Getting my chair adjusted was quite the little comedy. My boss has been using my workstation and she's considerably shorter than me. There were several aborted attempts to sit and/or adjust the chair. It requires a silly amount of core muscles to adjust an office chair. One of the reasons I know my office mate still loves me is she was quite gracious about helping with the chair.

I brought print-outs of the most recent x-rays to work with me and did a bunch of show and tell. More than once people asked "Were you wearing a necklace?" when they looked at the profile x-ray. This is where the long-held kinky tradition of smile and nod came in to play. It's not that I think there would be a problem if I explained more about the collar (my whole department knows I'm poly), I just knew that wasn't the conversation they were looking for.

Physically, I could have done better, but it could have been much worse too. After an hour and a half of sitting at my desk, I needed a walk. Even after the walk though, my back still wasn't happy about going back to the chair for long. I have to admit I'm a little surprised I was so exhausted after only three and a half hours at work. The pain when I got home was a lot more than I expected too. I'll be calling the Dr's office to have them revise the back-to-work authorization for fewer hours per week until the end of the month.

Now that I've had a rest (took a dinner break in the middle of typing this post), I can safely say I'm happy to get back to work. It's nice to have a little more routine and a few more people to talk to in a day.

Go Read Autumn's Blog

I start back at work part-time in two days (technically tomorrow, but I intend to sleep twice between now and then).

My most recent days have been filled with the pursuit of a glorious steampunk costume.

I'll write more about all that later. Right now, go read Autumn's blog.

Making it through the scary parts

A couple days ago, Russell and I ran into one of the challenges I've been dreading for a long time. I think I described it best back in May when I wrote about porn that made me cry. In a pair of sentences, the author managed to sum up the thing I was so blessedly afraid of having to say after surgery:

"I need you to stop fucking me like I'm dying, I'm not dying. But every time you touch me soft, every time you ask if I'm okay, another little piece of me falls off."

After a month of being barely touched and constantly tip-toed around I was going crazy (the PMS wasn't helping matters either). I was beginning to wonder if our relationship had shifted permanently when I wasn't looking. This led to a conversation much more grown-up and less dramatic than the one depicted in the story. We identified the biggest problem: He couldn't touch me much because he didn't know how to do it safely, and I couldn't tell him how to do it safely, because I wouldn't know until we tried. So, carefully, slowly, and with a lot of courage and respect for each other we started to explore the safer limits of what we could do together.

We've got a ways to go in rebuilding our confidence, but I'm glad we finally got to this point. It turns out, I was right. There really was no way around it, no way to avoid it. But I was also right in believing that, no matter what, we'd make it through together.

Hooray for OUT!

Okay, I'm heading to bed quickly, but I just wanted to say: Hooray!!! I got outside my 6-block radius all on my own.

I went to the Bondage is the Point party for a couple hours tonight. Hello to all of you I saw tonight and thank you so much the encouraging "OMG! You're doing so well!" remarks. It's really what I needed to keep to feeling like I'm moving forward. This was the right low-key party to start my gradual return to the Wetspot. No bondage for me tonight, but I wore an outfit that let me show off my scar and brought print-outs of my most recent x-rays for show and tell. The people, the tasty treats, they eye-candy, the careful hugs, but most of all the SMILES were just fantastic!

Mind you I was out of the house a full 3.5 hours and now I'm wiped, medicated, and ready for bed. Still, I'm definitely marking this up to a success. There was a lot of up and down out of couches, and standing around talking, and crouching to get water--not to mention the joys of driving.

Things to know _before_ surgery:

So here I am, precisely one month after surgery and I have a few more things I wish I'd known or thought of before surgery.

• Cut your toenails really really short as close to surgery day as possible. Your toes are a looooooonnnnnngggg way away from your hands. I finally managed to get to mine today, but not without some large amount of effort that almost required a nap afterward. I suppose you could schedule a pedicure (I did consider this a couple weeks ago) but you're still dealing with getting out and hoping you can sit in the chair comfortably for the duration.
• Cars don't like sitting in a garage for a month completely untouched. I took Ziggy (yes, my car has a name and gender now shut-up) out for the first time this afternoon and boy did she sound rough for the first 10 minutes or so. If I'd thought more about it, I would have asked a friend to drive Ziggy around for a day or two a couple weeks ago. It's good to remember too that all the mirrors will need adjusting, cause you sit taller now. Also, backing out of the garage was a treat. I didn't realize how much subtle twisting I did for that every day.
• Orgasms will probably change shape and flavor. This is in part a sex blog so I'm happy announce that I had my first orgasm since surgery last night. Don't panic, my orgasm-prone pre-surgery readers. Your mileage will probably vary. Despite being pretty in-touch with my sexuality, my orgasms were tough to come by even before surgery. However, since surgery I've been slowly learning how to wind up into arousal without arching and tensing my back. It's a delicate line to walk between being in controll and aware enough to not break something and still being able to release and enjoy the ride. However it's a dangerous thing to start eroticising a pain designed to tell you to knock it the hell off before you break something.
  

Skeleton Pictures!

Happy Halloween!

I had my first post-op office visit today and that means I came home with nifty skeleton pictures to share. The office visit went well and everyone was pleased with how things are turning out. The nurse removed the tape covering the incision (yay for nurses who understand about approaching a sensitive back and picking at it) and while I haven't looked at it yet, it sounds like it's healing well and the scar is going to be pretty inconspicuous. With the new x-ray, Dr. Williams thinks they may have corrected the curve even more than he thought when they discharged me. I also have authorization to drive and wear my waist-cincher. Look out world!!

I'm using the holiday as a reason not to put these behind a cut.
First we have the before/after you've all been waiting for:

And in profile:


Yes, those are some very large screws in my back. In fact, here's a large up-close picture of my hardware:


And one last larger shot of my back now:

[edited to add: You should be able to see larger versions of the pictures if you click on them (I spent 2 hours screwing with it and when I finally gave up, it worked... ah life) Also, yes, that is Max's collar in the profile x-ray. It's missing from the facing x-ray because I had to pull it up over my face and suspend it on my ample ears to keep it out of the way.]

...One Step Back

I've been making lots and lots of forward motion the last week or so. It was time for me to have a small step back. That doesn't make it any easier.

The forward progress has been great. I'm down to one or two pain pills per day (compared to 8-10 when I first got home). I'm pretty darn mobile and surprisingly self-sufficient when I need to be. I still ask for help on things to save my stamina, but if I had to stay home alone for 24 hours, I think I could do it. I've been able to reclaim a few more of the playful and intimate things I like to do with my partners (no orgasms for me yet, but that's a different post). I'm even hoping to take a field-trip to a corn maze with Russell and Kaylee (who've never been to one) on Friday.

Tuesday I was feeling like I'd gotten complacent--less focused on actively improving my health--and wanted to get back on the focused track so I set a couple goals. They were pretty simple; prepare and eat a good breakfast, get showered and out for a walk before noon, spend more time writing thank you cards and less time idly web surfing.

I woke up Wednesday morning irritable and sore, but I went to bed with goals for the day so pushed ahead. Breakfast--check. Shower--clumsy and slower than usual, but check. Out for a walk--at the turtle's pace of two weeks ago and the pain in my back was a lot more acute (like someone had hit me with a bat or pipe right across the spine just below the ribcage--it hurt to exhale). The rest of the goals for the day went right out the window. New plan: be still, rest, try to get feeling better before company showed up at 6:00.

It more or less worked. I had a friend from work drop by with pizza and really enjoyed chatting with her. But when our game-night friends showed up and I was already starting to fade (not that I would admit that to anyone). As the night progressed I became less mobile and less vertical, but I was enjoying having people and something to do so much I wasn't about to give in. Sure, today was a backwards step when considered with the last week, but they didn't have to know that. I was still capable of fun conversation even if I wasn't hopping up to be the hostess with the mostess.

Only now it's 4AM and despite the pain pills that usually make me drowsy I'm wide awake and dreading trying to sleep. I'm afraid to move my body and tweak that spot again. But I know with some more quality rest and a little distance from the really bad pain I can start moving forward again tomorrow. So here goes...

3-weeks Post-op

It's been a week since the last post. I feel like I should get something up here so y'all don't forget about me.

In physical healing news: I continue to get better in teeny tiny increments each day. I walk a little farther, squat to the floor a little more often, sit up a little longer, accomplish more without assistance, and take a little less pain medication.

In emotional health news: I'm not doing too bad. I do much much better when I have company over, but even when I'm by myself I manage to avoid the giant pits of despair most of the time.

In coping news: I'm still working on having a set of alternative activities I can do on my own that occupy my idle brain but don't wear me out, produce useless junk, or lead to unhealthy thought habits. Reading books and meditation both seem like logical answers here, but the reading disability puts a damper on the first and I have yet to find the proper muzzle for my inner perfectionist to allow me to meditate without an outside guide. I think I want something crafty to do, but I just can't seem to justify creating mostly-useless stuff.