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Health & Fitness

A reason for hope...

It's been almost a week since I wrote a post on this blog, so I thought I'd better add one tonight. The crazy thing about this post is that I'm drawing a bit of a blank when it comes to what I want to write about. Oddly enough, I'm also drawing a blank when it comes to what I want to say when I share my testimony in church on December 22 at both services (8:00 am and 10:30 am) at Jordan UCC in Allentown, so maybe by blogging about it will help me figure out what I want to say. To be honest, I hate getting up in front of a group of people and just winging it without notes. On the other hand, what if I write an outline with some notes on key points I want to share and suddenly sense the need to go in a different direction than what I'd originally planned? I guess I will write a few notes, and just see what happens from there.

First of all, I just want to say you're welcome to come on any given Sunday, not just because I'm getting up front and talking your ear off. Jordan UCC is located at 1837 Church Road in Allentown (South Whitehall Township area), near the corner of Route 309 and Walbert Avenue. That being said, a lot of my friends at Jordan and in my circle of friends outside of church have asked me how I got through the hardest part of my life: enduring nearly three years of back pain and nerve compression before having spinal fusion. That's why I'm sharing my testimony, because a year later after my surgery, I can only look back and say it was God's grace getting me through it and look forward into the years ahead of me and be thankful that surgery was successful enough to give me my life back.

Of course, my mom had to ask me why I'm giving my testimony on her birthday, but why not? I'm actually glad my mom made sure that I knew from an early age that God loved me and that the only way to be completely sure I'd be forgiven of my sins and go to heaven was to believe that Jesus is the Messiah and God in human form, that he died on the cross and rose on the third day from the grave to forgive me, and ask him to forgive me of my sins. Pretty simple formula for my 14-year-old self when I decided to ask Jesus to forgive me. A little bit harder to actually live like I'd been forgiven the older I got, but easier every day nonetheless. 

But life threw me a curveball when I turned 15. That's when I had first found out I had congenital scoliosis, an unnatural C-shaped curvature in the lumbar region of my spine that I'd been born with. At the time, most school nurses checked for scoliosis every year, and the nurse at Freedom High School in Bethlehem where I attended was no exception. When she'd noticed an unusual lump on my spine, she'd urged me to be checked for scoliosis. So off to the doctor I went, and after x-rays with an orthopedic doctor at St. Luke's Hospital in Fountain Hill and with an orthopedic doctor at Alfred I. DuPont Hospital in Wilmington, DE, confirmed that I had it. But since I had stopped growing at that point, the surgeon took a wait and see approach and didn't require me to wear a brace or have surgery. Apparently, the curve in my spine wasn't bad enough to cause me any problems.

Shortly after I found out I had scoliosis, I had also found out I had a serious reproductive issue called polycystic ovarian syndrome which put me at a higher risk of obesity, diabetes, high blood pressure, infertility, depression, missed periods, and hormonal imbalances. From then on, my back was no longer my main concern and instead I focused on making sure I'd lose weight and reduce my risk of developing any other health problems.

Even after I'd graduated from college, I had not given much thought to my back, instead focusing on living my life and participating in church, family, and work activities. That is, until my back started hurting in 2007 while I was working in the photo lab of a local Rite Aid drugstore. I ignored the pain and continued working, eventually taking other jobs and being able to keep the pain under control with exercise and medication.

But by January 2010, I could no longer ignore the pain, even after maintaining a significant weight loss, swimming and strength training 3 to 4 times a week, changing my eating habits, and taking stronger medications to easy the pain. That's when I first started noticing numbness and weakness in my hands, arms, feet, and legs, and I thought I had carpal tunnel syndrome, complications from having osteoarthritis, lingering damage from old joint injuries, or nerve damage from high insulin levels that I had finally gotten under control. When every test and x-ray came back negative for nerve damage, carpal tunnel syndrome, or a herniated disc, I kept praying that God would heal me and help me find out what was wrong with me. I had survived many job losses, relationships ending, bullying in elementary school, and other major health concerns, and I knew in my mind God was in control and would get me through just like he had with other crises in my life.

But this time, I needed more than just an answer to prayer or the knowledge that God had saved me from more than just my sins and from bad things. I needed an answer to why I was in so much pain, to the point where I sometimes had to sit down because my knees would go numb while grocery shopping or cringing when I couldn't find a closer parking spot to the gym entrance. I didn't want to go out with my friends to a movie. I hated walking through the mall trying to find the nearest bench so I could sit down and figure out if I had enough energy to try on clothes. Making dinner, an activity I love, became a nightmare because I'd drop an entire pot of cooked spaghetti on the floor. I lost a job after a week and a half because of the amount of pain I was in. And some weekends I'd barely have enough energy to go swimming or go to church, only to come home and collapse in bed the minute I walked through the door. And, more importantly, I wondered why God allowed me to suffer when I had served him wholeheartedly, read the Bible, and gave my time and money to the work of the church. I cried myself to sleep every night, yet silently screamed, "Why, Lord? Why me?" 

By January 2012, I finally had an answer for my questions. My spine had become increasingly crooked, and curved at a 75 degree angle. The end of my spine also twisted around hemivertebrae, which are underdeveloped vertebrae that look like a piece of an orange wedged into my spine. As a result, I developed spinal stenosis (a narrowing of the spinal fluid cavity inside your spine) No wonder my spine looked and felt like a wet towel being wrung out but never unfolded to dry.  

Every surgeon I saw recommended that I have spinal fusion surgery, with titanium rods and screws attached to my spine to correct the curve and titanium cages with donated bone inserted into my spine to replace the underdeveloped vertebrae and encourage new bone growth. But no surgeon in the Lehigh Valley had wanted to operate on my spine, and one even asked me why I had not been operated on when I had been diagnosed at 15. Honestly, that wasn't an option anyone ever offered to me, nor did I even think far enough ahead into the future to ask for surgery. At 15, all I cared about was surviving high school and checking out guys, not about my back!

I felt like I was back at square one. I had a diagnosis, an option for treatment, but no one to help me out. That is, until one surgeon I went to in Bethlehem referred me to the Hospital for Special Surgery in New York City. I couldn't get an appointment with the surgeon he recommended, but their office referred me to Dr. Federico Girardi, another spine surgeon at the hospital in New York. At my appointment with Dr. Girardi in August 2012, my dad, my brother, Jason, and I sat in the exam room and asked him a million questions about surgery and recovery time. When Dr. Girardi offered to operate on me, he told me exactly what the surgery would be like and that he was confident enough that spinal fusion was an ideal procedure for me. It was also the first time any doctor told me I was young and healthy enough to recover within a year's time. 

At first, I'd hesitated to make an appointment for surgery, so I left the office without one. But while Dad, Jason, and I were walking to a restaurant near the hospital for lunch, Jason turned to me and said I should just schedule it with Dr. Girardi because I had no more options left. The following day, I called to make the surgery appointment, and after a few rescheduled surgery dates due to doctor availability, I finally had a date set for November 2, 2012. I had been given a choice of either having it on October 29th or November 2nd instead of the date I had originally picked, and I chose November 2nd. That turned out to be a blessing in disguise. 

After that, I lived my life one day at a time while slowly wearing out. I managed to make it through the battery of tests needed to clear me physically for surgery, but for most of October, I could barely walk to the front door to get the mail or enjoy being with my family even though I pushed myself to live as normal a life as possible.

Then, the biggest scare of my life came. As Hurricane Sandy crashed down on October 29, 2012, I made a frantic call to the hospital to find out if I would be able to keep my surgery date. Of course, Dr. Girardi's office was closed and would not reopen until October 31st. But by an act of God's grace and mercy, the hospital never lost electricity or suffered any damage, even though it is located on East 70th Street along the East River on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Again, I continued to cry myself to sleep as I prayed that God would allow me to go through with my surgery even though many neighborhoods in New York City lost electricity, and tunnels and roadways got flooded. And the only hotel we could find a room at was in Monmouth County, NJ, since so many people displaced from their homes after the hurricane went to a hotel or many hotels weren't even open for business. We lost electricity at our house in the hurricane and got it back on shortly after we'd left to go to our hotel the night before my surgery. I cried because I just wanted to spend one night in my own bed in a warm house with a working light and outlet so I could make coffee!

Fortunately, God allowed me to have surgery on November 2nd, and we got to the hospital almost an hour before I was scheduled to check in. By 8:40 am, I said goodbye to Jason and Dad, and got wheeled into the operating room. But when my blood pressure dropped to 90 over 45, Dr. Girardi stopped the operation and finished it on November 7th. It felt like an eternity between the time he had started it until the time he'd finished it, and it was quite interesting yet rather boring watching the presidential election returns from a hospital bed when I really wanted to be home with my family watching it and discussing the results. I felt isolated from the outside world and missed my family and friends, even though my dad, my two brothers, and one of the pastors from Jordan UCC came to see me and I'd talked to my mom and several friends on the phone.  Although I'd move to New York in a heartbeat and thrive on the hustle and bustle of the Big Apple, lying perfectly still in a hospital bed wasn't on my to-do list until that point. 

I spent two weeks in the hospital with great nurses taking care of me, and thanking God that Dr. Girardi had been pleased with the outcome of my surgery as well as the initial x-rays afterwards. After spending an additional three weeks at Moravian Village in Bethlehem for in-patient rehab, I finally came home on December 9th, 2012. By then, I was much more comfortable and willing to see others again, and the cards, flowers, visits, and letters meant the world to me. And that was the first night I actually got any sleep. I guess there's just something about sleeping in your own bed that does the trick and helps you feel better. 

I'd have several more follow-up appointments in New York City with Dr. Girardi and completed outpatient physical therapy in February and March of this year. By the end of March, I felt strong enough to walk without a cane and get back into the pool and start swimming laps again, and had reopened my gym membership that had been on hold up until that point. I am continuing my job search, and was grateful I could get out on the dance floor at two weddings I'd attended over the summer. And by October 10th of this year, I had been told that it would be my last appointment that day and no longer had to have any additional follow-up appointments with Dr. Girardi unless there was an emergency, and I could just call his office with non-urgent questions and get an answer over the phone.

So where was God in all of this when I desperately needed him and actually would scream for help because I felt like even he couldn't hear me? God was in the middle of all of this. I saw God in the surgeon's hands, in knowing where to operate on my spine and in knowing that the risks would still be there even though the benefits of surgery obviously won. I saw God in Dr. Girardi's great bedside manners and knowledge of how to treat patients like a human being as well as treat their spinal problems. He earned my respect because he gives others respect and compassion.

I saw God when my dad and brother decided to check out of the hotel a day or two early because they had just enough gas to make it back home to Bethlehem and didn't need to stop for gas until they got to the nearest gas station at the Hellertown exit of I-78.
I saw God in the prayers of my friends and family, who prayed for me when I couldn't pray. I saw God in my mom when she showed up to visit me at Moravian Village one Sunday morning while I was getting dressed and she actually left and went to church because I had teased her about not having anything better to do on a Sunday morning such as go to church. 
I saw God when he answered my cry for help with comfort and with the reassurance that he was with me because Jesus had carried the cross on his back and felt the pain in his hands and feet from being nailed to it. 

I saw God when I ran into my former principal from Freedom while getting coffee at Dunkin Donuts just a few days before my surgery, and he wished me well because he'd had back surgery 11 years ago and was doing well. 

I saw God the most in the Bible verses I read to help me find peace while walking through a hurricane, and in the song I'll Praise You In This Storm by Casting Crowns.

But most importantly, I still see God when he gives me the chance to bring hope to others, whether they face back pain or the pain of a broken relationship. When we go through the storms of life together with others, God uses that time to remind us just how much we are loved and how precious life is. 

So here I am, a year later after surgery, walking up steps with no pain and thanking God every day I can walk up the steps. I once commented to someone that many women my age wanted to be Princess Diana walking up the steps of St. Paul's Cathedral on her wedding day, and that if I ever get married, I'd want to take the steps to the sanctuary on my wedding day and not the elevator. For now, I'm just grateful I walked through a hurricane and can walk up the steps, anyway!

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