Rehabilitation is a bitch

It's been a little over a week now. Slowly falling back into life again feels so strange...oddly familiar yet foreign, too. There is a lot of fear involved.

Tatiana moved me back to my condo this past weekend. It feels so strange...I kind of got used to all the noise and mayhem at my sister's house, what with two teenagers in the house. Now everything is so...quiet. And I have to be a Big Girl and take care of myself. So many odd emotions swirling through my head.

I'm doing pretty well. Had a bit of a setback on Saturday. I picked up a bag of groceries that I shouldn't have (I'm not allowed to lift anything heavy). I freaked out that night and couldn't sleep, worrying that I had somehow reopened the fracture because I was in a good deal of pain. I spent the entire day in bed on Sunday to rest and heal. Am feeling better now. It's still not easy to sleep on my side, and my shoulders ache a lot. I have to remember that all of my muscles are so weak right now...the slightest wrong move can aggravate them.

I don't feel as flu-ish by the end of the day, but too much activity definitely wipes me out fast. I get flashes of numbness in all of my limbs still. At first, this also freaked me out, but I think everything is just firing and trying to heal as I adjust to life without the halo. I was talking to my sister, Sekita, on the phone last night. We were discussing where we would eat when she comes to town for the holidays on Friday, and all of a sudden I just burst into tears. The gravity of what could have happened to me and how my life could have ended up hits me at very random times. I haven't fully processed all of this yet. It's like I have post-traumatic stress about the accident or something.

The weather has been gorgeous and mild, so I make sure to take long walks in my neighborhood every day. Lincoln Square is so Christmassy and festive this time of year.

I still find it weird that Dr. G said I didn't need physical therapy. I'm thinking I might do it anyway. Mobility in my neck tends to get slightly better each day, but progress is slow. I can't even imagine returning back to the gym without some professional guidance. I also went to acupuncture on Saturday and Dr. Z said I'm healing well and should be much better in about three weeks.

Scar Tissue

Three days out, it's amazing hour fast the pin sites are healing. Now I just look like I've been bitten by a wide-mouthed viper.

Still feeling achy and flu-ish. Muscles I didn't even know I had ache all over. But I took a long walk in the sunshine yesterday and it felt amazing.

The ABCs of Post Halo Bliss

A is for ABS
The only good thing that came out of the halo (apart from it saving my life) is that it gave me rock hard abs. I had to use my core to carry my top-heavy weight around. What’s crazy is that I am still flexing my abdominal muscles post-halo when I move around because I have grown used to it.

B is for BRA
These fun bags haven’t seen a bra in three months. I feared my breasts would permanently tilt outward on each side after the halo was removed, since the halo vest made them do that. But miraculously, they are intact. No more Barbarella chain mail.

C is for CHOPSTICK
My nephew said he didn’t sleep the rest of the night after he found the chopstick under his pillow. He was so mad at me he got up and threw it out his window. I will have to find another way to torture him now…

D is for DRIVING
I can’t for at least two more weeks.

E is for EVERYONE
All of the friends, family and strangers that have been so wonderful during one of the scariest times in my life. I am so blessed to have so many amazing people who have stuck with me and watched over me and seen me through this. Thank you.

F is for FLU
Now that my halo is off, my body is working overtime to carry my head up. By the end of the day, all my muscles ache and I feel flu-ish. I imagine this is normal and it will soon pass.

G is for GRO
The name of my hair salon. I cannot wait to get my hair cut tomorrow, since it’s been 6 months since my last coiffure.

H IS FOR HALO
I saved the crown part. It will make a nice conversation piece on my desk at work.

I is for IRRATIONAL FEARS
For the first day or so, I was pretty scared to move around too much because I thought the slightest wrong move would fracture my neck. Pretty normal, I guess.

J is for JOKES
I probably won’t be hearing “Hey! Your shoes are untied!” or “Do you get better TV reception with that thing?” anymore.

K is for KLEAN
The first thing I did when I got home from the doctor’s is take the longest shower of my life. I stood underneath the showerhead until all the hot water was gone. Best shower ever.

L is for LOVE
Loving being able to put a shirt on over my head. Loving being able to hug my niece and nephew without stabbing them in the eye with a halo screw. Loving being able to walk around and discover the world all over again.

M is for MASSAGE
I plan on getting many to sooth my aching muscles. Even my shoulders hurt from the pressure when I sleep now. Everything has just wasted away.

N is for NECK
Mine is brand spanking new, and it comes in assorted colors. Nah, it’s actually quite stiff. It especially hurts to turn it to the right, because the fracture favors that side. But it’s beautiful and it’s all mine!

O is for OLD HABITS
Three days out, I am still shifting my entire body around to look at something. Mr. Brady could not trick me.

P is for PAD THAI
The meal we celebrated the halo removal with. My family wanted to take me out to a fancy dinner, but for some crazy reason I was craving Penny’s Noodles.

Q is for QUEASY
How I still feel when I see someone getting on a ladder.

R is for RECLINING
I can finally sleep horizontal. In fact, the supine way is all my neck can stand now. Sleep is kind of touch and go, though. It’s still not easy to turn on my side.

S is for SCARS
The holes in my forehead closed up within a couple hours of halo removal. It is incredible. I am told I will have tiny scars, but that’s okay. They’re a badge of honor for all I’ve been through.

T is for TATIANA
My guardian angel, benefactress and hero. She was my rock during this entire journey and I can never repay her for all she has done for me. I would not be here without her.

U is UP AND DOWN
How I can tilt my neck best so far.

V is for VANITY
Obviously, I have none left after posting that last set of photos with Dr. G.

W is for WOBBLY
How my head felt when I first got the halo off. Not unlike a bobblehead! Katherine Hepburn’s got nothing on me.

X is for X-RAY
I am stuck with about 50 sets of films. Any ideas for something creative I can do with them?

Y is for YOGA
I plan on doing lots to strengthen my spine.

Z is for ZIPPER TOP
I never want to wear another one for as long as I live, as that was the only outerwear I could fit over my halo vest when I ventured outside.

Halo-lullah!!!!!

OK, so I had it all planned to write a lengthy exposition on the weather patterns in Chicago for the next several paragraphs just to keep everyone in suspense but I can't do it. I'm too excited.

IT'S OFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It's off! It's off (I am doing a little jig right now)!

My god, I am one grateful girl.

The day started out with that awful phone call from Dr. G's office ended with me halo-free.

Tatiana and I got to the office at 1:45pm sharp. I expected to wait a long time, since Dr. G's office is always crazy busy and I wait no less than 40 minutes each visit. But they admitted me within about 15 minutes, which was amazing in and of itself. I felt like I scored an awesome parking spot.

Emotionally, I was so different this time...much more Zen...much less in earnest and just trying to stay in the moment and not look ahead, not even 30 seconds ahead but to just stay very present. I had mentally prepared myself for whatever comes my way.

Dr. G sauntered in with his usual grandfatherly grin. He took my scans from T and looked at them for a few minutes (Serenity now. Serenity now). He said that the bone had healed more, but that there was still a gap in the growth. But he wasn't worried about it. It will continue to heal. I didn't say anything. He didn't give any indication of what he was going to do for another minute or so. More exposition on the bone growth. (Serenity now) I am so fucking Zen I want to punch someone.

And then he said the words that brought a glistening tingle to my undercarriage: "So, are you ready to take it off today?" My heart soared. I saw fireworks.

Then I mauled him. I couldn't help it. I think he was a little freaked out by me. But I didn't care. I was so overjoyed.

Then I mauled Tatiana.

After that, I went over to the examining bed and started climbing on top of it to ready myself for removal. I had always pictured myself lying down for this very moment. But Dr. G stopped me and told me to sit down in the chair.

WHAT? HE WAS GOING TO REMOVE IT WHILE I WAS SITTING UP????? I couldn't believe it. I thought he'd have to get at least a few members from the bomb squad and maybe the Pope to help remove the thing. But it was all so casual. Like we were sitting down to enjoy a cup of coffee.

“You’re not going to put a neck brace on me while you take it off” I asked.

“No, you won’t need one.”

The idea that my neck would just be floating around in the breeze was unconscionable. But there wasn’t any time to freak out. Dr. G started unscrewing the bars first. So far so good. Then he took the little wrench and started loosening the bolts. They were so tight he had to strain to get them loose. I thought he would take my head off with the wrench, he was straining so hard. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, but I didn’t care. Then he ceremoniously took out his wallet and extracted a dime. This was what he would use to unleash the screws from my head. He started with the back screws…untightening each a little at a time. It didn’t hurt, but it was an odd sensation. Then the front ones a little. Then again to the ones in back. As the screws loosened, I slowly started to feel the weight of my head on my neck again. It was the CRAZIEST sensation, and more than a little scary. Finally, the screws were completely loose. I felt like my head was going to fall off at any moment. Would it be too much to hold it up with my hands?

“OK, now you need to do the honors,” Dr. G announced. He wanted me to lift the halo off my head like a crown. It was my defining moment. With one clumsy motion, I lifted my crown of thorns off my head. Dr. G and Tatiana cheered. It was glorious.

Then they both laughed at me because I was still holding my head up as if it were in the halo. Stiff, slightly back and very unnatural. What? What’s wrong?

“You’re carrying your head funny,” they both said. Well, you would too if you’ve had your head in a vice for three months. Dr. G cleaned my pin sites on my forehead (that DID hurt!) and then gave me my orders:
--No driving for two weeks
--No returning back to work until I see him for a follow-up in two weeks
--Don’t baby your neck. Start moving it right away, but don’t overdo it either.
--No heavy lifting

Ah, but can I play Twister?

After that, Dr. G removed my halo vest. The avalanche of crumbs that I had anticipated never happened. It was actually a bit anticlimactic. There were a few tiny particles of dirt that littered the inside of the vest, but nothing like the grime bloodbath I had pictured. I thought about burning the squirrel briefly, but then Dr. G started wrapping things up. I mauled him one more time before we said goodbye.

The appointment was over in about 15 minutes. The removal procedure took all of about 7 minutes. My god, all that waiting for 7 amazing minutes.

As we walked out, with halo crown in hand, I felt like I was floating. I was still carrying my head funny, but I didn’t care. Freedom was mine. I had survived quite an ordeal with my head intact.

My neck is very stiff and my mobility is pretty limited (I can move my neck a couple inches to the left and right, and a few more inches moving my chin up and down) but I am carrying my head all by myself. I am walking with my head up high.

More to come…
GETTING READY TO FACE THE ENEMY...


HOW'S THE HAIR, BEB?


MOMENT OF TRUTH

Big Tease

Well, my anxiety dreams last night weren't entirely fiction. I got a phone call this morning saying that Dr. G had to go into emergency surgery and that he wouldn't be in the office until 1pm today. They were able to schedule me for a 1:45 appointment. So it's still on, but delayed. I feel like--as my good friend Marnie put it to me--"a nun at a bachelorette party screaming 'Take it off! 'Take it off.'"

My nephew found the chopstick in the middle of the night. There's a good chance he may develop a stutter now.

All Halo's Eve

It's Sunday night: 10pm. All Halo's Eve. My stomach is slightly queasy. Had really bad anxiety dreams last night. In one, I missed my Monday 8:45am appointment and didn't get the halo off. In another, Dr G. just decided we weren't going to take the halo off...EVER. He liked the way I looked in it too much. I kept screaming, "But why?" All he could do was laugh like Boris Karloff.

I feel like I'm in the last week of pregnancy and I am just DONE. "Get this puppy out!" I want to scream.

By the time you read this, will I be halo-free?

(By the way, in a final gesture of goodwill, I put the chopstick under my nephew's pillow tonight. Hopefully, he will find it in the morning and not in the middle of the night, or else the damage may be irreversible)

I am not some ineffectual little wallflower, damn it

Just when I thought I was dying a slow, cruel death of stagnant waste, a higher cause came and gripped me: dressing Dignan the Cat in his holiday finest.

Deja Vu

SCANALICIOUS
Me and Molly, getting ready to smoke a bowl. Look at how my excellent neckline stradddles the halo vest and bars. Klassy.

Went this morning to get another CT scan to see if my fracture has healed. The same radiologist from last time greets me. Her name is Molly. We love Molly. Molly is from Mississippi and has worked at NMU for the last 25 years. She told me I seem to be a lot more chipper than other halo wearers she sees. Really? How so, Molly? How do they seem? "Angry at the world," she drawls. Right!

Getting my films today is such a tease. I'll have to wait until my appointment with Dr. G on Monday for him to look at them. But since I have a much better idea of how to read the films from my last appointment, Tatiana and I can't wait to get in the car and bust them out for a look. And, drumroll...

The fracture looks so much better! It has definitely filled in more over the last three additional weeks. We both breathe a big sigh of relief. It's still not completely filled in, but it is a big improvement. I gush with hope and validation. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Jewish God. Thank you Tom Cruise and Oprah Winfrey.

Okay, let's just take this one step at a time...

Isn't it sick?

Okay, so only a few days more in the halo…Monday December 11th is the big day to get it removed. And unless Dr. G plans on screaming, “Psych!” when he greets me Monday morning, it will come off that day, healed fracture or no healed fracture.

Indeed, everything seems to revolve around getting the halo removed. I have been marking big fat X’s on my calendar. My friend, Tristen, sends me daily emails with headings like “T-minus 168 hours and counting” to do the official countdown. My sister, Sekita, called me the other day with a reminder: “This is your last Tuesday night in the halo.” Even the cute checkout boys at Trader Joe’s scream, “Go Halo Girl!” when they see me. Everyone is getting in on the action.

But, friends, there is sickness in my thoughts.

Twisted, ugly sickness.

Like, how am I going to hold my head up on my own without the halo?

Could it be that—like an inmate on death row—I have grown used to the halo? That I cannot be rehabilitated into the normal world again without it? After all, these last three months I haven’t had to tarry with the hassle of holding my head up on my own. The screws in my head have done that for me. My neck muscles have grown dusty and indifferent. Could life without the halo be overrated?

I ask you, what are these sick thoughts that creep through my transom? Like, will I still sleep on my back after it’s removed? Even though I’m normally the stomach sleeper of the century?

Will I still squat to pick things up off the floor?

Will I still try to cradle the chopstick in between my breasts?

Will I have phantom halo sensations in my forehead?

Will I wilt when people don’t get out of the way for me anymore on the sidewalk?

Will I miss telling people that the sheep’s wool lining in my halo vest is really genuine squirrel, because I am so kooky?

Will I still favor sponge baths?

Hold me. Say it isn’t so.

It's my Demi Moore moment

Name: Bremer Halo Vest
Model: Classic II
Size: Small

Designed by a man? You be the judge.