Still Working

Today's been a long day. It's after 9:00 pm and I'm on a marathon conference call that will likely go well into the night hours. I did leave work at 5:15 to get Holly from camp, but have been on the call all evening. The responsibility on the call has shifted focus, so I decided to write an entry. It might be an odd entry since I am in full, analytical and problem-solving mode.

This is my second long work day in a row. Yesterday was a 13 hour day and today looks like it will far exceed that. Every 8 months or so, we have a crisis situation and I get brought in to help. Jane hates these times because I pace around the house with a phone to my ear for hours on end. I've tried to do better tonight by staying upstairs in the master bedroom or in the guest room with the laptop.

I don't like having my evenings occupied by these calls, but I do like the change of pace. The pattern is very familiar and I usually sense the situation coming several days in advance. This time, I became aware last Thursday that there was an unsolvable problem that would likey result in the request of my assistance. That request came Monday night at about 8:50 PM.

I do well when there is a wealth of information from the parties involved but the information is different depending on who you talk to. Those differences are what interest me and help me find a direction to the solution. The issue I usually encounter is trying to convince others to make a change. Most lean towards very generic solutions or really big changes that they feel would make a difference; the brute force approach. I look for anomolies, which are usually minor, and lobby for changes that affect those. Since they are small, no one bites. So we spend hours circling the issue until someone else discovers the same anomoly. Once two people say something is wrong, we can make a change.

The vagueness of what I am trying to solve is purposeful. I have decided not to directly write about my place of employment or my co-workers. Jane and I talked the other day about how difficult it is to write a blog when you leave work out of the picture. 8 or more hours of each day is spent at work where stories perfect for blogging are witnessed. After reading my company's official blogging policy today, I've chosen to take the non-work blog route. The policy does not prohibit blogging but cautions against the use and image of the company. It calls for disclaimers that the blogger's views are not representative of the company. Additionally, if I was to write an entry on company equipment, the blog entry becomes the property of the company. Additionally, it is at the company's discretion to take action. Screw that. Not worth losing my job.

Over the weekend, I went to the pool twice with Holly. It's nice recognizing people at the pool. Last summer, we bought a pass for our city pool. It was nice, but we didn't know anybody there. Well, except for the woman whose office was on my floor at work. I didn't know her personally, but it was always awkward seeing each other in full office attire during the day and then in a swimming suit in the evening at the pool. Creeped me out.

This summer we switched to a new pool. Since we've become a little more embedded in the city since Holly went to public school, we see people we actually know. As Jane will attest, I seldom approach anyone in public to talk to them even if I know them. The other day at the pool I was talking to the mother of one of Holly's friends. It was fluffy talk since we don't know each other very well, but at least I was talking.

I guess that's enough for tonight. I'm still on the call and need to plug my mobile phone into the charger.

Is She Shy?

Is Holly shy? We thought she was. Jane and I aren’t so sure now.

When Holly was a baby and a young toddler, she didn’t show much shyness or “un”-shyness. She just seemed like a regular kid with separation anxiety at the daycare. When she was put on the spot, she would often speak quietly or not at all and would bury her head in our legs. She did appear nervous when we would go to a party or an unfamiliar place but always got into the groove eventually and had a good time.

Jane and I always assumed she was shy for a couple of reasons. The first is that I was very shy. When I was young, relatives and friends would come to my parents’ house and I would hide behind the couch. I was always a quiet child and would only interact after a long period of acclimation. I would get butterflies in my stomach at the thought of going to the mall. I was an alter boy at our Catholic church. At first, I could barely do the job. After a few times, I was perfectly fine with it and experienced no shyness. Perhaps a lot of my shyness was really a fear of failure as I discussed in a previous entry.

The second reason is that she didn’t seem overly social. She waited to be approached rather than approaching someone else. Her brother, as I recall, was basically the opposite. He’d walk right up to someone and ask their name or just start playing. Holly was never like this.

Our view started changing recently, especially after her ice skating show. She wasn’t nervous before the show. Both Jane and I would have been sick to our stomachs prior to an event like that. She was excited about the show. She wanted to go “backstage” and get ready long before the show. When she got out on the ice, she jumped around and seemed comfortable. If you watch closely in the You Tube video (link on Jane’s site) you’ll notice Holly is comfortable enough during the show to look up at the camera and wave.

During the school year, we received hints that Holly might not exactly fit the shy picture that we had painted in our minds. I asked her teacher midway through the year if Holly was doing ok socially. I asked if she interacts well with the other children and can relate to them. I asked if she had a group of friends she followed.

Her teacher looked at me like I was crazy. She said that Holly was an excellent leader. She said that she is outgoing, has a group of friends and offers to help other children when they are struggling. The teacher said that sometimes Holly’s group of friends would want to do a specific thing and Holly would happily engage with them. Other times, Holly didn’t want to do that activity and would slip off and entertain herself. She painted Holly to be confident, self-sufficient, helpful and a strong leader in her classroom. Jane and I were both surprised to hear this. Our little, shy, quiet daughter did not seem as such any longer.

Holly has been in some sort of third-party care for most of her life. Several weeks after Holly was born, Jane returned to work and we placed Holly in a woman’s home for daycare. For several months, Holly was the only child there. Later, a baby boy joined her but they were both so young that they didn’t really interact. When Holly was about a year old, this woman called us one Sunday evening, crying, and told us that she couldn’t take care of children anymore. It was too stressful.

A few days later, Holly was attending a KinderCare in a group with a few children. She seemed to adjust without major issues and remained at KinderCare until Jane lost her job to a “workforce reduction” in 2003. Jane watched Holly during her unemployment, but took her to a part time cooperative daycare twice a week. We did this for a couple of reasons. For one, we were interested in ensuring interaction with other children. Another reason was that Jane could enjoy a few hours of alone time. It turned out that Jane liked participating at the cooperative daycare and volunteered many times.

When Jane started working again in 2005, we scrambled to find full time care. We were lucky enough to come across a daycare that heavily focused on education, self-sufficiency and interaction. They were also structured differently than many of the daycares that we’ve seen in that they grouped 3, 4 and 5 year old children together. They had 3 classrooms and could have easily placed them in an age-specific room but chose this to encourage learning from older and younger children. Occasionally an age related conflict would arise, but, for the most part, it worked well. Holly formed many friendships at this school during the 18 months she spent there. Occasionally, she still talks about some of those friends. Unfortunately, we’ve lost contact with them as none lived in our area of the city.

I would theorize that the nearly constant attendance at daycare helped break the shyness mold or, perhaps, prevent it from ever forming. Holly seems very well adapted to walking into a room of strangers and finding a friend by the end of the day. We’ve seen this happen at the before school care during elementary school and at this summer camp.

Maybe I should just ask her if she thinks that she is shy.

Not Much To Say

Much to Jane's chagrin, I've included another picture of my scar, taken on day 19. Yeah...it is kind of gross. After Jane saw it, she made me put lotion on it because it looked dry.

Tomorrow (Thursday) marks 21 days since my surgery. The time has gone by quickly! It certainly doesn't seem like it's been so long. My leg pain is constantly changing lately. During the day, I seem to get aches in the calf muscles and sometimes in the area just above my heel. The pain is much reduced from before the surgery, but not 100 percent gone. However, there are times when there is no pain. For example, yesterday I had a mild ache in my calf for the whole day but when I got home it completely went away until the morning.

A few minutes ago, when I started typing this entry, I had a light ache in my leg. Now...none. It's so odd. I really hope that it all goes away. The neurosurgeon noted that it can take up to a year. Sooner would be preferable to me.

Jane set up an evening with Elliot tonight so I picked up Holly from camp. She looked worn out and was a little grouchy. We went by the grocery store to grab dinner. I let her pick out the meal. She had quite a time choosing between the Chinese Express and the hot, traditional foods. A game of Eeny, meeny, miny, moe declared chicken strips and macaroni and cheese the winners. I asked her if she thought the meal was healthy. She contemplated it for a few seconds and stated that chicken and cheese are both good for you. Holly then suggested that we add bananas, watermelon and a salad and "Yahoo" to drink. I got her regular chocolate milk because, and I could be wrong, I don't believe that Yoo-hoo has any real nutritional value. She constructed a nice salad at the salad bar and we went home.

Holly watched Ed, Edd and Eddy while eating and completely cleaned her plate. I bribed her into taking a shower at 6:45 by telling her that she could fill shower caps with water and drop them like water balloons. She didn't spend much time in the shower, which is unusual. By 7:15 she was asleep for the night.

I think the camp is difficult on all of the kids. They spend most of their day at real school sitting in a chair and occasionally walk the halls, have gym or recess. This camp seems to have them moving all day. She looks utterly wiped out every afternoon when we pick her up. She loves the camp though and says it's "way better than school because there's no learning."

Holly impresses me with her ability to make friends with older girls. During the school year, she would tell us about her friend in fifth grade or a friend in third grade. I always believed she knew them and talked to them, but I figured they were just humoring her. Well, I've been witness to several examples at this camp of the older girls truly liking her. One fourth grade girl yells out her name every morning when we arrive. A second grade girl ran over and hugged Holly and told her mom that this was the friend she'd been talking about.

Perhaps this is just a girl thing and I never experienced it since I was a guy. In my day, older boys only associated with younger boys when they were teasing them or kicking their ass. This included brothers, especially in public. I haven't witnessed older boys hanging out with the younger ones at school or camp so this behavior doesn't seem to have changed.

Kudos to Holly making the older girl thing work - however it happens.

Fear of Failure

Since my neurosurgeon told me to ease back into my normal routine over the next month, I relaxed some of my restrictions over the weekend. I put my own shoes and socks on. There was some discomfort associated with this, mainly due to muscle tightness. I also bent down to pick things off the floor, reducing my need for the grabber or to use my feet like a monkey. I expect this will get better as I stretch the muscles and get them back to a normal range of motion. I also allowed myself to lift a little more weight, but nothing even close to before the surgery.

On Saturday, Holly and I ventured to Home Depot to look at barbeque grills. I didn’t like what they had so we checked out Lowe’s. After looking there, we decided to buy flowers and give up on the grill. She was excited to pick out the special garden center shopping carts that were green and had two platforms. She pushed it around with a big smile on her face and authoritatively suggested flowers to purchase. I let her get most of what she wanted, only denying when the type of flower wouldn’t work in the sunny area where we keep the flower pots.

Holly was most happy to get the marigolds. I think there is some nostalgia for her since she picked them out last summer and they did well. When we got home, she had no interest in planting them and instead rode her bike. Jane and I randomly distributed the flowers amongst the various empty pots. Holly is pleased with the result and has asked several times each day if we should water them again.

Later in the afternoon, after Holly’s skating lesson, my sister asked if we wanted to come over for dinner. Jane and I were worn out and were happy to go if someone was cooking for us. Jane didn’t want pork chops, though, and told my sister that she would bring her own item for the grill. We decided to go to Target to pick up the food for dinner. I ended up buying a grill before we left.

It was nice asking the Target people to load the grill in the truck since my back is recovering. Jane thought it made me feel like less of a man. It wasn’t really that – it was more like I felt bad about burdening the Target employees with lifting the heavy grill box. None the less, I didn’t have to load it and my dad assembled it for me the next day. I told Jane that this back surgery complaint works pretty well and that we should use it in the future if we need assistance with anything!

I was pretty worn out after the weekend. I don’t think I necessarily overdid it, I just think I fatigue more easily right now. I slept very soundly both nights, which, by the way is getting much easier. I can almost roll over now without making too big of a deal about it. I still can’t come to a sitting position from laying flat on my back.

Holly seems to love her new summer camp. Yesterday was the first official day of camp and the Kosher lunch provided by the center was no problem for her. The only days I’m worried about are Sloppy Joe and PBJ days. She claims to hate both of those meals, but I don’t believe I’ve ever seen her try either of them. Maybe I’ll throw a granola bar in her backpack in case she doesn’t eat much.

I think Holly might try to go off the diving board this summer. She hinted at the fact that she thought about it yesterday since the diving board is closer to the side. As you might remember from Jane's entries, last summer she had several opportunities to try. Each time, the potential for fun could not outweigh the fear of jumping. I’m convinced that once she tries, she’ll do it a thousand times. She’s stubborn and afraid of failure just like me though.

I remember as a kid watching my dad and relatives water ski. I wanting to try but I was afraid of falling. Actually, I was probably more afraid of people seeing me fall. I think I was around 8 years old when I finally got the courage to try. I put the skis on and the boat took off. I came up out of the water just fine, but never stood up. I was skiing with my knees bent and my butt almost touching the water. After getting face-full’s of water, I let go of the rope.

I never fell, but didn’t try skiing again. For the next several years, I sat in the back of the boat and watched everybody else ski. I didn’t have a great desire to try anymore, but still studied everyone on the water. When I was about 21 or 22 years old, I was at the lake with my family and Cole. We were out in the boat and Cole decided to try skiing. He tried several times but had a lot of trouble. I wouldn’t say that he failed at it; he just never really got on top of the water and performed with ease.

Succumbing to the pressure of my relatives and my friend, I decided to try. As I hung in the water by the life jacket with the tips of my skis poking out of the water, I felt the butterflies in my stomach. Everyone was watching again. Somebody yelled from the boat to give them a signal when I was ready. I floated for a few more seconds, processing all of the images of my relatives skiing over the last several years. I raised one hand and waved to the boat.

The engine growled and the water churned behind the boat. The nose of the boat rose out of the water and I felt the rope pull me forward. I leaned back against the pull of the rope and was quickly on top of the water. I was skiing. I continued for at least 10 minutes without falling as the boat followed an invisible road around the lake. I felt myself getting tired and decided that before I fell, I would try one ski. I kicked one ski off and made it approximately 10 feet and fell into the water exhausted and elated.

Why didn’t I try again when I was younger? Fear of failure. Perfection. Shyness. All along, I knew that I would be able to ski. I just didn’t want to take a chance of being wrong or failing in my own confidence. I don’t want Holly to suffer from this as I have, but I certainly understand and will always be sensitive to her feelings.

McRage

After I finished my appointment with the neurosurgeon today, I swung by a McDonald's a few blocks away from the hospital. I made a left turn off one street which was followed by an immediate right turn to get into the drive-thru lane. This turn proved to be more difficult than usual because safety orange construction cones narrowed the corner. The drive-thru lane could hold one more vehicle, so I carefully turned my truck into the entrance, avoiding both the cones and the oncoming traffic.

As I eased to a stop close to the car in front of me, the sound of a blaring horn rattled my ears. My mirrors revealed a giant, black Dodge Hemi truck directly behind me housing a very angry driver. The huge, construction-worker-looking guy was pounding on the horn, yelling and gesturing at me. I interpreted his movements as best I could and determined that I had accidentally cut him off and took his spot in line. I was trapped in the drive-thru. There was no room to turn out and leave or move forward.

He continued to honk, yell and gesture at me as the back of his truck was still in the street. As the next car in line provided space for me to move forward, he floored the gas and pounced towards me. He stopped just shy of smashing my bumper. By this time, the honking had ceased, but he was still yelling and gesturing.

When he was finally out of the street and fully into the drive-thru, the passenger door on his truck opened. A tough looking, sun burnt man in overalls and no shirt got out. His head was shaved and the only facial hair he sported was a light brown goatee. He crossed in front of the Dodge truck and walked between the curb and the driver's side of my truck. Here comes my first ass kicking.

As you know, with my recent surgery, I was in no shape to fight. Not to mention that it is not my nature to fight. I felt the adrenaline rush and my heart was pounding. I left the window up and stared directly forward using only peripheral vision to monitor him. He walked straight past my window without emotion and into McDonald's. Whew!

Space had once again opened in front of me, so I moved forward in the drive-thru. The engine in the Dodge truck revved again and lurched forward, stopping shy of the bumper once again. The man still yelled and gestured. He continued to intimidate by lurching forward until it was my time to order. I had to roll down the window and I was now at an angle where he could look right at me.

"Would you like to try a southwest salad?" the radio screeched.

As I tried to order, the man rolled down his window and began screaming obscenities at me. The woman in McDonald's couldn't understand me and I had to repeat. She finally got the order, and I moved forward with his continued yelling.

I paid with my Visa debit card and then waited to move on. He was ordering, politely, and I heard his voice over the speaker. If the cars in front of me had gotten their food quickly enough, there would have been a gap between me and crazy Dodge truck driver while he paid.

No such luck.

I heard his engine rev once again and he came flying around the building towards the back of my truck. He stopped in time and then began yelling and gesturing again. His friend that had gone in the restaurant earlier was standing beside the back of my truck holding his food. He was waiting until the Dodge pulled forward to get back in. At least HE seemed civilized.

The cars in front of me moved forward again and I held out my hand for my food. I threw it in the seat as quickly as possible, but there was still enough time for the Dodge to lurch forward and intimidate once again. At last, I had my order in hand and took off towards the exit. I snaked through a grocery store parking lot and took an obscure exit. I never saw him after that.

I've been in situations where a driver has been upset at me for one thing or another, but they've always stopped pretty quickly or I was able to get away from them. This was so unnerving. I was trapped in the drive-thru with a very angry person only 10 feet away. Sheesh!

The doctor inspected my incision for about 4.3 seconds. He rubbed his hand over the lumpiness under the skin and then explained to me that the underlying tissue was being bound by internal stitches. The lumps should flatten out over 3 to 6 months as the stitches dissolve and only a thin white line should remain. Sounds good to me, I hope it turns out that way.

I am released from most of my restrictions, but he asked me to ease back into them over the course of a month. Extreme twisting, and especially twisting while lifting, are still prohibited. Those probably aren't a good idea for a healthy back either. He said I could bend down to put my shoes and socks on again. Swimming and baths (ew) are allowed too.

He said that I could start mowing again in about a month. I'll probably wait a little longer unless I feel really good or I get completely fed up with our hired lawn mowers. He said that I need to wait at least six months to ski, play basketball, football or other sporty activities that could jar my back. Shouldn't be difficult avoid them since I didn't do any of them before the surgery.

The doctor said that the aches, numbness and weakness will come and go over the next 6 months to a year. He says that the normal course of nerve repair and scar tissue formation has those symptoms.

Unless there is some change in my condition sooner, I go back for a checkup in 6 weeks. If all is good then, it will be my final visit with the neurosurgeon.

Three Topics Today

I'd like to thank everyone for their understanding and comments regarding yesterday's entry. In the last seven years, Jane is really the only one that I've ever talked to about Cole's death and my feelings afterwards. It was nice to be able to share that experience openly for the first time. I do talk to Holly about it sometimes, but I only focus on the wreck itself to reinforce the importance of wearing a seatbelt and following the rules of the road. Holly does, after all, have a little connection to him. At Jane's suggestion, indicating a true understanding of his importance to me, we based her middle name on his name. It's not hard to figure out but I won't blatantly call it out here.

Jane and I talked about the event last night when we were making dinner. I did get a few details wrong - mainly who was with me at certain times or the exact timing of some of the events. Jane also had a different impression of my behavior that day. She says at some points, I was downright business-like and unemotional. I would tend to believe her. I often act that way in an active "crisis". I can assure you that in the weeks and months that followed, there were times when my emotions could not be held back.

Jane added one characteristic to my relationship to Cole that I feel is true. She said that we were like brothers and that his loss was nearly as impacting. Cole was an only child and there were times when his mother would refer to me as her other son. His parents, in a sense, are now childless. He was their pride and joy. They didn't seem to have a lot of money, but being young I could never tell for sure. His grandmother (mother's mother) was from England. Several months before he died, he took his mom on a trip overseas. She got to meet relatives that she'd never seen in person before. He took her all over London and a couple of other countries. It was the only time that she'd ever left the United States and I'd expect that she'll probably never leave it again. With Cole gone, I don't know how they get by each day. It would be unimaginably difficult.

I feel that I've painted Cole as a saintly individual who was the perfect best friend. He had his faults and quirks like all of us (and some that many don't have), but I feel that those would cheapen the sentiment right now. Maybe someday I'll write about them.

A few days after Cole passed away, I mentioned to Jane that I would like to plant a tree in memory of him. We both liked the idea. A few days later I was mowing the yard and I saw a tiny cottonwood tree sprout with two leaves at the edge of a flower bed in our back yard. I’m not usually superstitious, but I told Jane that this was his tree. Cottonwoods are native to Kansas; with aid from a drip irrigation system and constant pruning and fertilizing, it grew to over 30 feet tall in 5 years. The picture at the top of this page is the last photo I took of the tree before we moved away from our home in Lawrence.

Tomorrow I go for my first visit to the neurosurgeon since my surgery. I have a few questions for him:

1. What did he find during the surgery and was the final procedure in fact a single level laminotomy/discectomy?

2. How long will it be before I know if the surgery was successful? I've indicated before that I still get occasional aches, numbness and weakness in my left leg and I'm curious if it is permanent.

3. When can I resume activities like bending, lifting, twisting, mowing, swimming, etc?

4. What is the lump under the skin at the top of the incision? It feels like there is a large raisin under the skin! There is no pain when pushing on it (other than normal incision pain). It's freaky!

5. What was the puncture to the right of my spinal column used for? The actual surgery took place about 1/2 inch to the left of center of my back. About 1/2 inch to the right of center, there was a small puncture that has since closed.

6. Do I need physical therapy?

7. Can you sign a form to allow me to get a more comfortable chair at work? The one I have makes my butt and lower back really tired.

Hmm...that seems like a lot of questions. I'll have to prioritize so I get the most important ones asked first before he gets tired of me.

Have you all seen the news about the young woman who was abducted and murdered in the Kansas City area last weekend? They found her body yesterday and took a man into custody last night. He is going to be formally charged today.

I have been unusually affected by this case. On Sunday afternoon, we went into a bowling alley/ice rink for Holly's lesson. Hanging on the door was a flyer that a teenage girl was missing. I didn't think much of it because we all see those flyers from time to time. Over the weekend, I heard little bits of news about it but still didn't pay much attention. That all changed on Monday when I arrived at work and saw the flyers in our hallways. That never happens at our workplace.

Since then, I have been glued to the coverage. I feel so badly for her parents, relatives and friends. It seemed so random, so pointless. At least they were able to pin down a suspect to help bring closure to this for the family. I want to hear his motive. I want to know why he did it.

I think I am so curious because I have a daughter too. I want to know so that I can do my best to keep her out of the same situation. The abduction occurred about 6 miles (as the crow flies) from our house and the body was found about 8 miles (opposite direction) from our house. At one point, his vehicle was on a highway that is probably within a mile of our home. That's too close for comfort.

We'd Still Be Friends

Seven years ago this Saturday, my life changed forever.

Earlier in that week of June 2000, my uncle's brother (my mother's sister's husband's brother) had a fatal heart attack while driving his daughter to softball practice. I knew Rich from various family get-togethers but most frequently from tailgating at KU football games. Rich was a real character; he was witty, funny, not shy in the least and yet he cared enough to remember the important things about a person.

On Friday, June 9, 2000, I drove to Salina, KS to attend the viewing before the funeral that was scheduled for Saturday. The viewing was held at his family's Catholic church which happened to be the same church I attended when growing up. I don't recall if the church held mass on the night of the viewing, but I do remember going to a small reception with his family at their house. Since my parent's live in Salina, I retired at their house for the night.

Saturday morning I woke up to the blistering central Kansas weather. The sun on my skin seemed hotter than normal and the humidity was high. I recall feeling odd and assumed it was in anticipation of Rich's funeral that day.

Around 9:00 in the morning, my parent's phone rang. The person on the other end of the line asked for me.

I don't exactly recall, but either my mom or dad handed me the phone. It was Jane. She said that my best friend's roommate, Sarah, had just called and said that my best friend, Cole, had been in a car accident on Friday evening. He was in the ICU at St. Luke's hospital in Kansas City. She didn't know much about what happened or much about his condition. I decided to try to reach a mutual high school friend of ours to let him know. Our friend, Micah, had recently moved to Florida and I didn't have his new contact information. Instead, I found his mother's number and called her. She provided Micah's phone number and I called to tell him what I knew about Cole.

A few minutes after I hung up, the phone rang again. It was Micah's mother. She had just spoken with Cole's mother who was at the hospital in Kansas City. She told me that the situation was much worse than Sarah knew. They didn't know if he was going to make it.

I talked to Jane and my parents about what I should do. Rich's funeral was set for that day and I had just received news that my best friend was in critical condition. Everyone told me that I should drive back to Kansas City and see Cole. I called my uncle and told him what had happened. I explained to him that it was a very difficult decision, but I was going to miss the funeral so that I could visit Cole. He was very nice and understanding and gave me no guilt.

It takes about 3 1/2 hours to get to Kansas City from Salina. I asked my sister if she wanted to come with me since it was a long drive and we were both in distress and could use each other's company. She agreed and we embarked on the journey. I don't remember much about that drive except that we both cried.

Cole was my best friend. I met him when I was in 5th grade. Although we were in the same school district and same grade, we didn't go to the same elementary school. I'd see him at events that brought the schools together. Since it was such a small school (31 in my graduating class), we saw each other often. In 7th grade, we both attended the same school. We became better friends and hung out during school and took many of the same classes. It wasn’t until we got our driving permits when we were 14 that we really became friends outside of school. Every day after school, we'd drive around and do teenage things in a small pack of about 5 or 6 friends.

Our friendship continued through high school. I had a four wheeler (ATV) and he had a dirt bike. I'd take my four wheeler out to his house in the country and we'd spend entire weekends running around pastures, county roads and rock quarries. We worked on projects and repairs together in each others garages and enjoyed a real friendship.

When it came time for college, we both applied for Kansas State University and Kansas University. Each of us was accepted at both colleges and decided on Kansas University. We lived all five years of college together. We started out in a dorm room and moved to various apartments throughout college.

After college, we both got jobs in the Kansas City area at different employers. We stayed in our Lawrence apartment for a couple of months after graduation and finally found a centrally located duplex in Kansas City in the summer of 1998. We moved in and had a great time. Every evening after work, we'd crack open the beers, make some dinner and listen to music with our friends. It seemed like every night was a big party.

One evening, early in the summer of 1999, Cole asked me if I wanted to go to a new pizza place that neither of us had tried. When we arrived, I was shocked to learn that Cole had called Jane and asked her to meet us. Jane and I had stopped seeing each other for the prior few months. Cole had set this up because he knew that we both missed each other. A month later, I asked Jane if she would marry me. We got married in November of 1999 and I moved out of the apartment. Cole found 2 people from his workplace that moved in and took over my portion of the rent. Jane and I moved to Lawrence in late December of 1999. I never lost touch with Cole and saw him quite often over the next few months. He would occasionally come down to Lawrence to have a beer and hang out on the patio with Jane and me.

Jane and I didn't have a real honeymoon after our wedding, so we booked a cruise for late May in 2000. While on the cruise, we purchased a couple of gifts for Cole and some of our other friends. When we got back, I called Cole and talked to him about the vacation. We decided that he would to come down to Lawrence for dinner on Friday, June 9 and we'd give him the gifts. I never got the chance to give him the gifts.

My sister and I arrived at the hospital early in the afternoon. The weather was completely different there than in Salina. It was cloudy, cooler and a light rain was falling. We crossed the parking lot and street and entered the hospital. We were directed to the ICU. I think we had to go down stairs or take an elevator, but I don't exactly recall. I can still see the white linoleum floor tiles and the fluorescent lights illuminating the hallway. We turned right at a sign that read "Intensive Care Unit". Several people I knew were sitting on the floor in the hallway. Some of them came up and hugged me. I could tell by their faces that there wasn't any hope of Cole surviving.

I learned that Cole was driving home from work in his 1984 Corvette. He had a friend in the passenger seat. Cole was always a reckless driver. He drove really fast and never wore a seatbelt. I remember telling him over the years that driving isn't a race. His Corvette had a targa top which is like T-tops except that there is no dividing bar. He had removed the targa top in the morning and left it in the garage since it was a nice day. Evidently, he was rounding a curve on Interstate 35 when he swerved to avoid someone changing lanes. His car went off the road and flipped. Cole and his friend were both ejected out of the open top of the car. His friend hit the side of an oncoming tractor-trailer and broke his arm and collar bone. He suffered a few cuts and scrapes. Cole was not so lucky. The back of his head hit the pavement hard.

Someone pointed me to the curtain that provided privacy to the ICU bay and indicated that Cole was in there. I pulled the curtain to the side and entered. Cole was laying on a bed, with the head of the bed partially elevated. His face and eyelids were very swollen. He had a little scrape on the back of his hand. Otherwise, he looked normal. I talked to him for a minute or so telling him what a dumbass he was. I told him that he should have worn a seatbelt. I told him that when we get through this, maybe he'll be smarter about driving. I wasn’t being mean - there was no hint of anger, aggression or belittlement in my voice. I just didn’t know what else to say.

Suddenly, it seemed absurd to talk to him. I looked at him again and I knew he wasn't there. His body was in front of me, but something told me that it was just a body. I stayed in the curtained room in silence for a few more minutes and then went back in the hall to talk with the other people that were there.

A woman dressed in slacks and a shirt walked into the area and asked if someone named "my real name" was here. I confirmed and she told me that Cole's parents had asked for me. They were in a room on the main floor and wanted to talk with me. Emotion seemed to leave me. I felt hyper-aware. My mind was very clear and I wasn't upset.

I stepped into the main hallway and learned that this woman was with the organ donation group. She explained to me that since Cole only suffered a head injury, that the rest of his body was in excellent condition for donation. Cole had not signed anything stating his desire, so the decision was up to his parents. This is why they wanted to talk with me. The woman led me to a dim but comfortably lit room. Cole's mom saw me first and fell towards me into a crushing hug. We both broke down immediately. After this long hug, I turned to see Cole's dad sitting in a chair. He looked shocked and depressed. The woman closed the door and left the room. Cole's mom and I sat down in silence. A short amount of time passed and then his mom started to ask me about Cole's intent with regard organ donation. They asked if we had ever talked about it. I told her that we both had discussed it various times. There was never a time when he blatantly stated "When I die, make sure they donate my organs." He did, however, talk about organ donation in a positive light and indicated that he wouldn't care what happened to him if he died.

I think we all wanted something good to come out of this situation so we all leaned towards donation. Cole's dad seemed a little reluctant and was had a difficult time making any decision. I stayed with them a few more minutes and then left the room to allow them to decide. His parents chose donation.

We all went back down to the ICU. His mom and dad went into the curtained room for one last time and only spent a few minutes there. They were tired and Cole's outcome was now certain. His parents made the 4 hour drive back home that night. I left too and went to my house in Lawrence.

I had dreams about Cole every night for months and months. In these dreams, I always saw his face but never heard him talk nor did I talk to him. After about a year, these dreams lessened in frequency, although they still occur occasionally. Jane was my crutch to lean on during this, the hardest time of my life so far. Cole and I were only 25 at the time and had no experience with an event of this magnitude. I don't think it occurred to either of us that one of us might die at this age. Jane was always there for me and understood how I felt.

Cole was the glue that held our group of high school friends together. Since the memorial service that was held a few weeks after his death, I have not seen a single one of them in person. I talked to Micah on the phone about a year ago, but I've really lost touch with them.

Because I am a naturally introverted person and because Cole and I had become such good friends, I had never put any effort into finding other friends. Lacking this skill, I don’t have a best friend to this day that isn't related to me in some way. There are plenty of times when I am riding in my truck or sitting around at home where I wish I could call Cole and talk to him. I don't really have anything specific to say, it would just be nice to talk to him again.

We still have Cole's gift in the upper left drawer of our dresser along side a check he wrote to me that I'll never cash. I think those items will be with me forever as my last material connections to Cole.

I sure do miss him.

Back to Work

One question that I didn't directly address in my previous posts was when I planned on returning to work. I'm a couple of days late on reporting that as I returned yesterday! My original plan was to return one week after the surgery which would have been last Thursday. I decided to change that plan on Wednesday evening as I still hadn't made it through a day without laying down. Since I can't lay down at work, I opted to wait until Monday to return. Taking Thursday and Friday off proved to be beneficial. I continued my twice daily walks and observed my normal restrictions. On Saturday, I didn't have to lay down at all.

Returning to work has not been that bad. I kept up with emails while at home so I had a pretty good idea of where everything was at with work. I do my best to get up and walk around every 15-20 minutes, but sometimes I lose track of time. One unexpected disadvantage of returning to work is heeled shoes. I have dress shoes with about a 1 inch heel. This is just enough to change the angle of my back and cause some discomfort when walking. I intend on getting new ones, but haven't had a chance yet. Plus, I haven't seen dress shoes for men without a heel that don't look like moccasins.

Sleeping at night is getting much better. I now have the strength, and lack of sharp pain, to roll over without making too much of an effort. I still have a little trouble when first getting in bed for the evening about relaxing my back. It seems to take a while and I get a couple of bursts of moderate pain until the muscles finally give up. I figure these spasms will go away in time, but I am going to mention them to the neurosurgeon on Friday.

The incision looks pretty good too. Although not prescribed, I have been putting a light coating of Polysporin over the incision. I became a believer in this stuff last year when I got a cut over my eye. I was getting out of my truck in the garage and left the driver's door open while I threw a can in the recycle bin. When I turned around to get back in the truck, I smacked my left eye, under the brow, against the top corner of the door. It immediately split open and began bleeding.

It took about 20 minutes for the bleeding to stop and the edges of the cut to stay together. At first, any time I relaxed my eye, the cut would split back open. Once it was finally closed, I went to the store and bought Polysporin. I used it twice a day. By the 4th day, it was almost impossible to tell that I ever had a cut there. Who knows if it will make any difference on the incision, but it's only $3 or $4 and shouldn't hurt anything.

I am getting antsy to start bending at my waist again. Everyone preaches bending with your knees and not your back. Try putting socks and shoes on without bending your back though. It doesn't work. Given that, Jane and Holly are still helping with my socks.

Unrelated to anything else I've discussed, a tree in our yard is dying. I bought and planted the tree a year ago on May 6th. It was a very nice Serviceberry trained to grow as a tree with a single leader. It has white flowers in the spring, red berries with green leaves in the summer and turns fire-orange in the fall. This spring, we had a late freeze that really hurt almost all of the trees in our area. This tree was not spared, but did produce berries and green leaves. In the last couple of weeks it took a turn for the worse. Leaves turned orange and then crusty brown. No new growth is present.

I took pictures and went to the nursery where I purchased it. They said that it looked like a fungus and sold me a bottle of fungicide and told me to prune all of the dead limbs. Since I can't do any work like that, I asked a tree company we use to take a look at it. Their verdict: it's a gonner. They said it was planted too deeply and the roots weren't getting oxygen. The arborist dug down to show me where the root flare was - about 6 inches below the soil. When I planted it, I carefully followed the nursery directions and planted the burlap of the rootball about 1 1/2" above the surrounding soil. The arborist noted that the nursery had piled soil on top of the root flare before balling it for protection. The net effect is that I followed the directions, but my reference point was wrong and the tree is dead. He told me that the next time I get a tree, I should dig down around the base of the tree until I can see where the roots began to separate from the trunk, even if it means removing soil from the root ball. Then, I should plant the tree with that part at ground level.

Once the final green leaves turn orange, we are going to have to figure out how to get the tree replanted. It has a 2 year warranty, but I am in no shape to dig it up and plant a new one. Time for a landscaping company?

Thank you, Dagadoo

The picture to the right is after Holly has been awake for 15 hours, gone shopping, ridden her bike three times, played with her brother, ice skated for 2 hours, been to the playground and participated in 900 other six year old activities. She was tired and didn't want her picture taken.

Jane had to work Friday, Saturday and Sunday for a conference. Given that fact, it was just Holly and me this weekend. Normally, this is not a problem at all and we plan all sorts of activities. Well, this time was different. Since I am still recovering from surgery, my normal energy and movement wasn't quite there.

On Friday afternoon, I picked Holly up from her summer camp and we went to the library. She checked out eight books and got a summer reading club form. She set her goal at 40 books. She gets a free paperback if she meets her goal and is entered in a drawing for some other prizes. By Sunday morning, she read all eight of the books and two others she picked up at a garage sale for 50 cents. She's 25% done on the 3rd day of summer!

After we got done at the library, we went to McDonald's for dinner and witnessed two kids getting caught refilling non-McDonald's cups. One of them disassembled a cardboard drink tray and filled one of the indentations with about a cup of catsup. The manager was not pleased and questioned them and ran them out of there. Hooligans.

Our next stop was the shoe store to purchase shoes for her summer camp. She badly wanted Skechers, but most of them had low heels that irritated her because they felt like they were slipping off. She finally settled on a pair, we paid and left.

With Holly festooned in the latest of shoe fashions, we headed to Target to get ice cream and Magic Shell. Upon returning home, we settled into the couch with bowls of ice cream and watched TVs funniest moments. She crashed at about 8:45 and I had to really try to wake her up. A few weeks ago, I would have thrown her over my shoulder and carried her to bed. With that option gone, shouting "HOLLY, WAKE UP!!" and shaking her shoulder was the only way. She finally woke enough to make it up the stairs and into a nightgown.

Holly slept late Saturday morning (7:30 is late for her) and stumbled into the office where I was reading the news on the internet. We played around for a while, ate breakfast and then got ready for the day. We had to go to Target again to pick up a prescription and then went to Lucas Liquor to get birthday gifts. My sister and her husband both had birthdays within the last couple of weeks, but they were out of the country. Wine and beer served as their gift. That's my preferred policy lately - gifts that can be consumed. Be it batteries, light bulbs, food, wine or trash bags, at least I know that I'll use it and won't have another item cluttering a shelf. That being said, if anyone wanted to get me a plasma TV, I wouldn't complain. After the liquor store, we ran home to wrap the gifts and then went to my sister's house for lunch. We enjoyed homemade pizza and then went for a walk.

My sister had seen a new shop open a few blocks away called Miami Ice. She hadn't tried it yet, so we decided to go there. My brother in law and I chose a strawberry smoothie made with vanilla and raspberry custard, strawberries and some sort of fruit juice. It was damn fine. My sister got a lime Miami Ice and Holly got a chocolate/vanilla soft serve cone. We sat back and admired the odd people in the area and eventually strolled back to my sister's house.

It was late in the afternoon when Holly and I got back home. I threw down a blanket in the shade for Holly. She plopped down on a pillow and read library books. I settled into a lawn chair with a Dean Koontz paperback and a Mendocino Summer Ale. It was a good beer even though I am often iffy on the summer brews. I also tried a new release from Boulevard called Lunar Ale. I'd probably by this one again for my own consumption, but I don't know if my relatives would drink it. For most of them, heading out of the light beer category is unheard of.

When Jane got home, we went to Olive Garden for the fettucine alfredo I had been craving since the day of my surgery. It hit the spot and we had leftovers for home. I think Jane was happy to have non-conference food after plenty of boxed lunches and sterno heated pans.

Sunday went pretty quickly. Holly and I went to the store to buy lunch fixings for her summer camp. Seems as though her plan is to have tuna with mayo every single day until the lunch program starts. She probably gets that from me. I could eat the same thing every day for lunch and wouldn't complain. The only reason I don't is because I am too lazy to make it before work.

Jane finished her conference and joined us around lunch time. Since I'm not allowed to lift much weight for some unspecified amount of time, I decided I needed assistance getting my work laptop setup before I return to the office from my surgery. Since I return tomorrow, I asked Jane if she'd help me today. I packed up the laptop bag, Holly got her skating stuff and we headed out for a dual-purpose trip. Jane lovingly dragged the laptop bag through the parking garage and across 100 miles of sidewalks into my office. After everything was setup, we headed to the skating rink for Holly's lesson.

The one thing that made the biggest impression on me this weekend was Holly's attitude. Before the weekend started, I talked to her about needing help because of my back and the fact that mommy would be working. She brushed it off like it was no big deal but really delivered when it counted. She never once complained when I asked her to pick something up off the floor because I couldn't bend down. She helped load and unload the dishwasher with the enthusiasm of the most fun game in the world. She picked up all of her Littlest Pet Shop toys and packed them in a little case. All of her books were stacked, her shoes put away and her dolls arranged accordingly. She pushed the cart at the store and carried the bags to the kitchen. She even took out the trash which must have weighed half as much as she. She saw me struggle to put my socks on and ran to assist every time.

How do you thank a six year old that couldn't possibly grasp how much help she really was?

Steri-strips

The steri-strips came off today. Covering the incision were 3 pieces of tape that the nurse referred to as steri-strips. She said that once the edges come loose, that I could remove them. They started coming loose yesterday so I waited one more day and then took them off. It wasn't painful to remove them. The incision is pretty clean except there is some sort of small lump under the skin towards the top. It doesn't hurt any more or less than the rest of the area so I am not going to worry about it.

Yesterday, I left off having arrived home from the hospital. Like I said, it would have been nice to have a sleeping pill. At any rate, I got up like normal on Friday. My lower back was pretty stiff and the wound itself now hurt more than the underlying pain. In fact, I spent most of the first night laying on my side. I took one Vicodin when I got up (max dose for me was 2 every 4-6 hours). Around 9:00, I left a message for the nurse and then layed back down in the bed until she called.

One thing I forgot to mention was swelling. My left hand where the IV was inserted was pretty swollen. I didn't put my wedding ring back on until Saturday. In addition, my face was swollen and puffy. I noticed pillow creases in my face when I first got up. The nurses said this is from laying face down in the cradle during the surgery. All of this type of swelling was gone by Friday evening.

One of the challenges in our house is stairs. We have a side-to-side split, so we have four, half staircases that are used to go from living area to sleeping area to garage to basement. Before I left the hospital, I asked the therapist about stairs. She provided a technique where you use your strongest leg to step up onto a stair tread and then bring the other foot up to the same stair tread. And then repeat. It is a lot slower than the normal way where only one foot goes on each stair. I felt very stable doing this and it didn't hurt my back.

Sitting up was the most difficult at this point. Not because of internal pain, but because of the wound pain and bruising. At no time was it ever unbearable - very uncomfortable is a better description. The chairs that worked best for me were very firm, straight backed chairs. I felt like I sunk into soft chairs and wouldn't be able to get out. Many times I would just sit on the edge of the chair with my back not touching anything. Other times, I put a bed pillow behind my back and eased into the chair.

One surprising thing about the first day after surgery was the soreness in other parts of my body. The muscles in my abdomen, right below my ribcage, were very tender. This same feeling extended to my upper chest in the pectoral area. My neck was also very tender in the back above the hairline. I don't know if these pains were caused by the cradle and being moved during the surgery or if they were a result of compensating with other muscles when getting in and out of bed, chairs, etc. This soreness was gone on day 2, Saturday evening.

Other than moving really slowly and having tenderness and soreness in my back, nothing else felt different. I didn't take Vicodin after day 1 at 1:00. I did take one on Wednesday after walking 2 miles. It helped.

Each day got easier. Getting in and out of chairs was better, but the tenderness of the incision was always what I needed to ease into. I had some days with zero leg pain and somedays with moderate calf pain. I couldn't tell if this was muscle or nerve pain though. It didn't change based on movements of my back. I often wonder if it was from using that leg as the dominant one to climb the stairs. Yesterday, I didn't have any nerve pain in either leg at all until about 9:30 at night. By then, the back of my ankle and lower calf ached a little bit, but nothing like before. Today, I have very mild pain in both legs.

I would rate my overall leg pain recovery, on average over the week, at 90% relief. I have not had any episode of leg pain I would rate over a 3. After returning from Mexico in March, I would routinely have leg pains rated 8 out of 10. Most recommendations I've heard so far say to make your final judgement after about a month.

I drove for the first time in a week yesterday. It was uncomfortable on the trip to the store, but before I drove back home I raised the steering wheel and made the seat back less reclined. It worked well. Today, I've gone out three times in the car. It was especially better after getting the steri-strips off. I think they pulled on the skin and made it feel worse rather than better!