Back in March, my husband was told he would be undergoing surgery on his ankle to repair years of damage. For months now, this was the day that he was to go under the knife with a very long recovery afterward. In preparation, he's been going out on fishing trips, as he was to be eight weeks of no weight bearing and he wanted to enjoy the outdoors before he was "incarcerated".
The last of these trips I was to go with him, and beginning on Saturday, June 18 with a tribute concert for a group called Rusty Rocket that collects money for musical instruments for schools, our vacation began.
Heading north on the morning of the 19th, we made our way deep into the Great North Woods of Maine, camping out next to a boat landing roughly 50 miles from Millinocket. He likes to fly fish and it's a great lake for it, and I was looking forward to several days of reading a good book I'd held in reserve. (I have a very busy job and look forward to any time that I can just sit back in a chair and relax.)
Our one planned excursion on Tuesday involved a drive to Elephant Mountain outside of Greenville (along long dirt roads) to see the crash site of a B-52 from 1963. We were expecting some photos, a few memorials....but not what we found! The historical society (or some such group) has returned all of the wreakage to it's original resting place, and the effect is very sobering...
The description of the hike says that the wreak is a half a mile hike in....
The wreakage greets the hiker at the edge of the trail the moment one steps into the woods. Torn bits of metal, some thrust through trees, litter the trail. At the half mile mark is the lion's share of the debris, all up and down the mountain. The fuselege, most of the metal torn off, sits with a stone marker to those lost and the two survivors.
We go all the way into Greenville and pick up a few supplies, then go back to our camp, sobered by the sight of this piece of history. (Here's the full story, should you be curious: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1963_Elephant_Mountain_B-52_crash)
On Wednesday, it;s "tour the lake day", and I return with some nice color in my cheeks and some great photos in my camera. It's a truly great vacation so far!
On Thursday, we take off for some touring of the woods, looking for critters, but no luck, so we return to camp for dinner and a nice rum and coke. Mine makes me feel slightly ill (not an uncommon event), so I leave half of mine in the glass. We joke about "abusing alcohol" by not drinking it, but doze off with smiles....
Until an hour or so later, when my husband awakes with me doing an imitation of a horizontal earthquake next to him....
At about the time that the dog begins to bark, he realizes I have no clue that I'm having a seizure, so he does his best to help, holding me so I don't bash my head on the ground and making sure I'm still breathing. When my body goes limp, he dresses himself and me in the dark, with me just "helpful" enough to make him think strongly of our grandchildren...
Putting the dog into the back of the pickup because he's trying to protect me, hubby then drags me to the truck, adds the dog to my lap, and gets in for the mad dash to the nearest hospital....in Millinocket! Driving up the rough road out as fast as he dares, with one hand on the steering wheel while the other hand is on my pulse, making sure I'm still alive. Some 10 or so miles into the ride, I start opening my eyes, but I can't respond to his anxious questions, and I'm in and out of consciousness. I realize we're driving somewhere, but I can make no sense of what's happening even as my husband makes the first turn toward civilization.
Several miles further on, I come back to myself to see a moose running down the road ahead of us and my husband's voice saying "Come on, moose, I have no time for you tonight." I know that we're driving down the road and that my dog is on my lap because I can feel him licking me, but I have no idea why we'd be doing such a thing when we're supposed to be in bed. I can't make my voice work to ask him....
As we reach the final turn toward town, my voice finally comes to me, so I ask him where we're going and why. He tells me I had a seizure and we're going to the hospital, and I sit in shock, cuddling the dog whose behavior also tells me something unusual happened. When we get to the hospital and I try to slide out to walk in, my whole body feels like I've been tied to the rack. My husband tells the night staff what happened, they take me in for an emergency cat scan after a quick once-over. They can tell there's something not right, but don't have a neurosurgeon on staff, so they have to transfer me to Portland. My husband goes back to break down camp while I'm kept under watchful eyes and the transfer is arranged.
Because of a law that says that my husband can't transport me, he goes home to unload, then meets me at Maine Med in Portland. An MRI is done in the middle of the night, and in the morning, we're given the news: there is something showing that doesn't belong there. Because my husband and I are total goofs, we're saying that line from Kindergarten Cop: "It's not a tumor."
The jokes stop briefly when the neurosurgeon we see this morning shows us a different view from the MRI that shows the true size of the couple of dots and a little swelling (a shaded area) in the left lobe....and says in the same Arnold voice after hearing us do it "It IS a tumor/"
Hmmm.....
The surgery is to be scheduled within a week. My husband's ankles have been put off...again....and I'm still trying to wrap my head around it, but everyone seems to be praying....
No matter what happens next, I have a MASSIVE safety net of people who I can depend on....
As I run my fingers over the tiger on my shoulder, representing my strength, my spirit animal, my fierce spirit, I'm scared, but ready to fight....
I've got this!
(And for those who want to see this, the MRI with the part the doc is worried about circled.
Obviously, I wasn't supposed to light up like that when they put in the contrast.....)
ADDENDUM: The surgery takes place on July 5th, when they'll be taking away part of what you wee in the photo above. I'm still having a hard time wrapping my head around it, but there you have it. I need to have the bad parts removed before they make more.
The last of these trips I was to go with him, and beginning on Saturday, June 18 with a tribute concert for a group called Rusty Rocket that collects money for musical instruments for schools, our vacation began.
Heading north on the morning of the 19th, we made our way deep into the Great North Woods of Maine, camping out next to a boat landing roughly 50 miles from Millinocket. He likes to fly fish and it's a great lake for it, and I was looking forward to several days of reading a good book I'd held in reserve. (I have a very busy job and look forward to any time that I can just sit back in a chair and relax.)
Our one planned excursion on Tuesday involved a drive to Elephant Mountain outside of Greenville (along long dirt roads) to see the crash site of a B-52 from 1963. We were expecting some photos, a few memorials....but not what we found! The historical society (or some such group) has returned all of the wreakage to it's original resting place, and the effect is very sobering...
The description of the hike says that the wreak is a half a mile hike in....
The wreakage greets the hiker at the edge of the trail the moment one steps into the woods. Torn bits of metal, some thrust through trees, litter the trail. At the half mile mark is the lion's share of the debris, all up and down the mountain. The fuselege, most of the metal torn off, sits with a stone marker to those lost and the two survivors.
We go all the way into Greenville and pick up a few supplies, then go back to our camp, sobered by the sight of this piece of history. (Here's the full story, should you be curious: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1963_Elephant_Mountain_B-52_crash)
On Wednesday, it;s "tour the lake day", and I return with some nice color in my cheeks and some great photos in my camera. It's a truly great vacation so far!
On Thursday, we take off for some touring of the woods, looking for critters, but no luck, so we return to camp for dinner and a nice rum and coke. Mine makes me feel slightly ill (not an uncommon event), so I leave half of mine in the glass. We joke about "abusing alcohol" by not drinking it, but doze off with smiles....
Until an hour or so later, when my husband awakes with me doing an imitation of a horizontal earthquake next to him....
At about the time that the dog begins to bark, he realizes I have no clue that I'm having a seizure, so he does his best to help, holding me so I don't bash my head on the ground and making sure I'm still breathing. When my body goes limp, he dresses himself and me in the dark, with me just "helpful" enough to make him think strongly of our grandchildren...
Putting the dog into the back of the pickup because he's trying to protect me, hubby then drags me to the truck, adds the dog to my lap, and gets in for the mad dash to the nearest hospital....in Millinocket! Driving up the rough road out as fast as he dares, with one hand on the steering wheel while the other hand is on my pulse, making sure I'm still alive. Some 10 or so miles into the ride, I start opening my eyes, but I can't respond to his anxious questions, and I'm in and out of consciousness. I realize we're driving somewhere, but I can make no sense of what's happening even as my husband makes the first turn toward civilization.
Several miles further on, I come back to myself to see a moose running down the road ahead of us and my husband's voice saying "Come on, moose, I have no time for you tonight." I know that we're driving down the road and that my dog is on my lap because I can feel him licking me, but I have no idea why we'd be doing such a thing when we're supposed to be in bed. I can't make my voice work to ask him....
As we reach the final turn toward town, my voice finally comes to me, so I ask him where we're going and why. He tells me I had a seizure and we're going to the hospital, and I sit in shock, cuddling the dog whose behavior also tells me something unusual happened. When we get to the hospital and I try to slide out to walk in, my whole body feels like I've been tied to the rack. My husband tells the night staff what happened, they take me in for an emergency cat scan after a quick once-over. They can tell there's something not right, but don't have a neurosurgeon on staff, so they have to transfer me to Portland. My husband goes back to break down camp while I'm kept under watchful eyes and the transfer is arranged.
Because of a law that says that my husband can't transport me, he goes home to unload, then meets me at Maine Med in Portland. An MRI is done in the middle of the night, and in the morning, we're given the news: there is something showing that doesn't belong there. Because my husband and I are total goofs, we're saying that line from Kindergarten Cop: "It's not a tumor."
The jokes stop briefly when the neurosurgeon we see this morning shows us a different view from the MRI that shows the true size of the couple of dots and a little swelling (a shaded area) in the left lobe....and says in the same Arnold voice after hearing us do it "It IS a tumor/"
Hmmm.....
The surgery is to be scheduled within a week. My husband's ankles have been put off...again....and I'm still trying to wrap my head around it, but everyone seems to be praying....
No matter what happens next, I have a MASSIVE safety net of people who I can depend on....
As I run my fingers over the tiger on my shoulder, representing my strength, my spirit animal, my fierce spirit, I'm scared, but ready to fight....
I've got this!
(And for those who want to see this, the MRI with the part the doc is worried about circled.
Obviously, I wasn't supposed to light up like that when they put in the contrast.....)
ADDENDUM: The surgery takes place on July 5th, when they'll be taking away part of what you wee in the photo above. I'm still having a hard time wrapping my head around it, but there you have it. I need to have the bad parts removed before they make more.
No comments:
Post a Comment
This is to COMMENT ON THE BLOG, not TO SELL YOUR STUFF!
If you insist on commenting that "you need this", be prepared to have your comment deleted PARTICULARLY IF YOU ARE ANJU SHUKLA!!