Boy, did I F**K UP my back.
I'm feeling OK now, and hopefully will avoid a second back surgery this year. But the last 7 months have not been easy. Just ask my lovely, caring, thoughtful, beautiful, pure of heart, wonderful wonderful wife. Let's start at the beginning.
A year ago I was in the midst of a HUGE kitchen remodel. Tore out walls, floor, a bathroom, cabinets, filled in a door and installed a window. This was a big job, especially for a 42 year-old wise-ass of a man-child who, whenever questioned by the aforementioned loving, courageous, and trusting wife, would reply, "Yes!", "No problem.", "Don't worry about it.", "That's easy!", "I can do this with out anyone's help!", "It's only a flesh wound.", "No one will notice.", " I need a bigger band-aid.", BEEEERRRR Please.", "It's still connected with the piece of skin. Just get me more duct tape." never doubted his will and ability. The countless man hours, long weekends, used up favors, friendships strained, and a marriage strengthened added up to the best kitchen in the neighborhood and a sense of pride that is shared by our whole family. (Mother-in-law included.)
But as will happen to soon-to-be middle-aged men who bite off more than they can chew, "No good deed goes unpunished." I ended up with a herniated disc. An issue that started small and grew and Grew and GRew, and GREw, and GREW until finally my heroic, clever, and magical wife had to call the paramedics (I just think she likes to look at them) and had my sorry ass carted to the hospital.
I could give you the grisly details of my hospital stay, (three days with no pooping, crapping in bed, peeing in a bottle, a constant brain haze and monotony, the food was good though.) surgery that was nothing less than miraculous, my convalescence under the love of my wife, PT with an evil angel, and my triumphant return to work. But I will spare you the drool. (Sorry to those that have to endured the recorded version in person.) I will also spare you the details of my re-injury and minor set backs.
Things could be worse. The challenge ahead of me is to stay off the OR table and work hard to make sure this doesn't happen again. Also to get my body back in good physical condition so I can be a help around the house, and not be a hinderance and hassle to my wife, who really deserves all credit for not plunging a knife into my chest and skinning me al la Hannibal Lector. (Something she could get away with because no jury would convict her. )
So, is there a lesson in all this? I'm sure there is somewhere. Patience, compassion, sympathy, empathy, and maybe even endurance. But I have to say it was all worth it as I sit here in this beautiful kitchen and will always know, We did this.