Goodbye for Now...

"Maybe I should sell my bike," I suggested to Dr. Mark.

During our most recent Biofeedback sessions, Mark and I began discussing the reality of my condition. He did not tell me, "you will not get better;" however, he said that it might help me recover if I stopped thinking about everything that I cannot do; which is difficult, because there is little that I can do that can distract me and to replace these menacing thoughts. Mark explained that the only way for me to get over the part of me that is currently disabled is for me to grieve it.

What do I miss???

- I miss doing yoga; I miss stretching; I miss pilates; I miss working-out; I miss running; I miss walking my dog; I miss playing tennis; I miss kickboxing; I miss swimming, I miss hiking...

- I miss being able to go shopping, to go to the grocery store, to do laundry, to clean my house, to try on clothes for fun, to pet my dog while standing, to make my bed, to put on shoes, to do the dishes...

- I miss dancing at weddings, going to the movies, seeing a play, enjoying a two-hour dinner, going to a party with more than 10 guests, planning social events two-nights in a row...


For my 29th Birthday, Gage bought me a bicycle. My birthday is in August. Early that summer, Gage and I had taken up cycling and I loved it! I felt like a little girl every time we went down a steep hill and my stomach hit my throat. I literally squealed with joy at each downward slide! Despite the love of the ride, I threw my back out that very July. Gage and I both thought I'd "get better" and he went ahead and bought me my beloved bike for my birthday so that I no longer had to use one of his "boy" bikes. That was a year and a half ago and I've ridden my beautiful, purple bike with a ladybug helmet one time.

When I learned that I would need spinal fusion surgery, we kept the bike. It was something I could look forward to when I recovered. It was my future reward for enduring the pain and achieving the desired results. However, as months went by and my recovery endured challenge after challenge, I started to look at the bike with contempt. We stored it in the garage and after each trip, whether it was to the store or coming home from work, I looked at the bike and realized that it was taunting me. Every time I stepped into the garage, I saw my nemesis. My bike became my back's enemy.

After my Biofeedback session with Mark, I spent weeks crying. All I could think about was all that I was missing. I felt that I had nothing left in life in which to look forward. I explained what I was going through to my compassionate husband, and when I told him that I was considering selling the birthday gift that he had so thoughtfully given me, he said, "I understand. Whatever you need to do to grieve, I support you."

So I grieved... as with any mourning period, I had to say good-bye to my past and all that I lost.

Last week, I started to come to terms with my mourning and my reality. Most importantly, I decided not to sell my bike. I also decided to stop looking at everything that I was missing, and start looking at how far I've come in my recovery. I decided that it is time to look forward to life post-surgery...

Since my surgery, I can now:
- walk 3 miles without my walker
- slow dance in the kitchen with my husband
- (attempt to) work 4 days each week
- cook a meal for my hubby at least once a month
- go to a matinee show as long as I bring a pillow and go to a theater where I can stretch across a row of seats
- have friends over to visit and not retire after 2 hours
- help Gage with small chores around the house
- do mild stretches
- take a bath (oh, how I missed those bathes...)

I look forward to a million things after I fully recovery. My top three are:
1. Riding my bike.
2. Playing tennis.
3. Traveling to see long-distance friends and family.

In every season of grief, there comes a corner which one must turn. For a while, I turned my back on the hope that I will one day recover. Even though I still have a journey ahead of me, I have faith in each step that I now take, for the steps are becoming less and less painful every day and the distance is increasing each week.

One day, I will feel my stomach drop at the bottom of a hill while on two-wheels again...