Ups and Downs

Will try to be a tad more up-lifting today - seems my last post was pretty dark and gloomy.  While this whole surgery recovery thing is definitely a roller-coaster ride, I remain committed to get my health back and regain the strength and flexibility (OK, maybe I can shoot a little higher on the strength and flexibility thing this time!) I had prior to the surgery.

On the good news front - I rarely use the walker anymore so ready to retire that bad boy.  It is kind of handy as a utility cart as I hang some needed items from it and keep it close in case I need something.  It might find a home in the garage as I could hang my tools from it for any future projects.

Also, have been walking outside more and more.  Making trips to near-by parks and going for longer walks with Donna.  I now understand why parks have lots of park benches.  I use them often now where before I would just go on by.  The bad side of this walking is to be wary of the fine line between enough and too much walking.  When I push it too much, I pay dearly the next day (night) - last night has a perfect example - walked a lot yesterday afternoon and paid the price starting around 2 AM this morning - ugh.

The other positive (I think) is that I'm trying to wean myself from the narcotic meds originally prescribed.  The problem here is just when I think I have it down to extra-strength Tylenol as the only thing needed for handling any pain, I run into a particularly bad night where something a little stronger is needed to take the pain edge away.  Like I said, last night was one of those nights and I ended up taking a Hydrocodene pill this morning to get on top of the discomfort.  Also threw in a Valium for good measure as my leg was particularly bothersome all night and this morning.   Feeling tolerable now as I write this.

On the not-so-good news front - there's still considerable weakness in the right leg.  I really notice it when I go down a stair with the wrong foot first (one of the things I learned during therapy while at the hospital).  Lead with your strong leg going up steps and lead with your weak leg going down steps.  If I get that wrong (I know, I know, but there's just a lot to think about when I'm walking around) I really get a big twinge in the back - hurts like a mother for a moment or 2.  Nothing serious but a reminder that I screwed up.  I'm guessing once PT finally gets started, rebuilding leg strength in the weak leg will be one of the top priorities.

I continue to sleep a lot and have had some awesome naps (but let's be honest, aren't ALL naps awesome?).  Just wish I could get my stamina back a little more - not sure work will be overly thrilled when I nod off for a 2 hour nap during a client meeting.  Speaking of work - still no time table on when I can go back.  The narcotics really put a damper on that plan as I need to be 100% clear-headed (at  least for me anyway) before I can safely drive to and from work plus not be a drooling idiot with a client.  I'm thankful for their patience and hope it continues going forward.

Finally, my posting today wouldn't be complete without my from-the-bottom-of-the-heart Thanks to Donna for all she does.  Her concern and care for me is beyond humbling and if there's lesson #1 through all this is that I truly hit the Lottery when we found each other.  She is the reason I keep fighting, try to keep my complaining to a minimum, and remain committed to getting better.  Thanks Donna, I love you more than I can say.

Let's ALL have a good week - smile at a stranger, help a friend in need, tell a loved one that you love them.  Do the things we all know we should do but sometimes don't take the time.  And be thankful for your health - it really is at the heart of how we act each and every day.

I'm surrounded by the best support system anyone can ask for and will continue to pay-it-forward when I can.

The Ache of all Aches

Ache - the only word I can best describe how my right leg has been feeling the past few days.  It's not a sharp pain, it doesn't throb (too much), it just aches (maybe that should be ache with a capital A).

My recovery (it's been 4 weeks already) from back surgery has gone about as expected plus or minus a few unexpected bodily reactions (ugh....) but the right leg pain has been totally unexpected.

It's been sore from the first moment I remember waking up from surgery - my image was seeing the surgeon wrap it around my head to get it out of the way comes to mind.  Since then, there's been good days and not so good days and then there was this morning.

I don't cry very easily - sad movies, Old Yeller getting shot, and the death of someone close will elicit some tears, most of Kevin Costner's movies (including Water World but for entirely different reasons) can be a spigot-opener and witnessing my children's birth required a Kleenex alert.  But outside of that I can be pretty stoic.  Today I cried because it just hurt and unless you've had something like this before it's hard to explain.  It just hurt and it seemed like it was never going to get better.  Once the pain meds and heating pad kicked in I was fine but there was a 15 minute period where I felt about as much dispair as I have in a long time - and that's the 3rd time in the past few weeks where this has happened.

When I visited the Doctor last week, they of course suggested to keep to taking the muscle relaxant prescribed (which of course I do) - not sure how much it helps but also don't know how bad it would get if I didn't take the med.  They suggested heat or maybe ice - what ever might work best (thanks, that was pretty much not helpful).   And they suggested walking as the best exercise.  "What if I walk too much?" I asked.  You'll get terrible cramps was the answer - yep, nailed that one too.

So that's the dilemma I'm in - I need to walk to continue healing the incision site but too much walking causes the leg to seize up.  I guess the trick is to find the happy medium.  The worst problem is that trying to sleep is very, very hard when you just can't get comfortable with the leg's position.  Ask Donna how that was around 5 AM this morning?  I finally just got up and went down stairs and once the meds kicked in was able to snooze on the couch for an hour or so.

I'm trying hard not to complain too much (all though that might be hard to believe since I've just written 6 paragraphs of complaining) but right now that whole idea of this surgery doesn't sound so good.

Patience is the key and I will continue to work on it - it would just be nice to get a sign or 5 of some good healing taking place.  I'm not looking for much - maybe sleep past 6 AM one morning?  Maybe walk like I'm less than 98 years old - just little things like that.

Again, I so appreciate the effort and optimism Donna continues to show.  She is the rock of the family.  The kids have been great about checking in on regular basis - their voices certainly lift my spirits.  I am blessed and try to remind myself of that between bouts of self-pity!!

If your right leg doesn't hurt, do me a favor and take a quick jog around the block and thank your stars you have that mobility.  I can't wait for my turn, in the meantime, when is it time for that next Valium????

He's Tired?

I re-read an article this morning and kept asking myself if I was missing something.  Is there some secret injury or some other personal item at play here?  There's got to be something.  But no, after reading the article it came down to one thing - Tiger's sucky play this week at the Tour Championship is simply due to the fact he's "tired".

http://msn.foxsports.com/golf/story/tiger-woods-admits-hes-tired-after-dismal-round-2-of-tour-championship-at-east-lake-092013

Most of you that know me know I'm as big a Tiger supporter as there is in the world.  He can pull off shots, he can sink putts, and he can out-psych you in ways that mere mortals have no chance of pulling off.  Add to it the scandal of his fire-hydrant incident from a few years ago and suddenly you have a personna of WWF- proportions.  An evil caricature that just can't be beat and and one people love to hate or maybe a flawed superstar that has incredible game but just can't resist the dark side of his fame but keeps fighting anyway to regain the adoration he once had.

I guess I fall somewhere between.  Tiger's personal life is his personal life.  If he wants to bang waitresses while his drop-dead gorgeous wife and move-star kids wait patiently at his story-book home, well then so be it.  History is filled with philandering superstars - Tiger's not the first and he sure as hell won't be the last.

But to blame his poor play on being "tired", well I'm sorry, but I really have to call bullshit on that one.  Tiger lives in a fishbowl - a life you and I will never truly understand.  But even in the fishbowl he sometimes makes his own pergutory. 

Hey Tiger, maybe, just maybe, quit being such a dick when you talk to people (not the media but the fans).  Maybe smile a little more and look your fans in the eyes when they call your name.  Get in front of all the crap being written about you and show your human side.  You might be astonished at how people would react.  J say that your game isn't very good right now and congratulate all those golfers that are probably just as tired for sucking it up and putting on a good show for the golf playing public.  Say you plan to work really hard this off-season and with a little luck, you still might make a run for Jack's record.

Being tired is OK if you work multiple jobs and support a family and worry about where the next rent check is coming from.  Being tired is NOT OK when you get paid oodles of money to play a game for a living and good week or bad week, you get to jump in your private jet to fly off to your exclusive ocean side home to begin figuring out your next multi-million dollar endoresment deal.  I get tired and even I don't have a right to.

The only thing tired here is to continue hearing how tired you are.  C'mon Tiger, suck it up and get back to reality.  The planet you currently live on is a long way from real-ville the rest of us live on.

The Dream Golf Group

There's been a lot of golf on TV lately - we recently had the PGA championship, and start and continuation of the FedEx playoffs, and next week will be the President's Cup.  Plenty for any golf junkie, way too much for that same golf junkie's wife.

All this golf has got me to thinking.  If you could play with any 3 other players in the ultimate foursome, who would they be?  I know, I know, way too wide open a question so let's boil it down a bit.  For today's discussion, let's whittle it down: Your 3 partners have to be deceased (but you don't have to be - unless of course you want to be but then that kind of complicates the debate plus I have no idea how you'll write this, etc.).

They can be from any era, well known or obscure, etc., - you get the rules. 

For me, 2 of the 3 are really easy.

#1 far and away would be Ben Hogan.  I've been fascinated with Ben Hogan about the time he stopped playing competitively in the 1960's. I remember my Dad talking about him and how private he was with his time after retiring - rarely giving interviews, just content to hit balls at his club in Fort Worth, TX - Shady Oaks.  You just never heard much about him other then he made some kick-ass clubs and any player worth a damn at that time played Hogan irons.

Ben Hogan become more of a fascination to me when I read his book "Five Lessons - The Fundamentals of Golf".  It was unlike any golf instructional book I had ever seen.  The attention to detail, the illustrations, and the theory make it a must-read on any serious golfer's list even to this day.  It was also around this time that some of the mystery surrounding the man became to disappaite and you began to get a sense of who he was and what he was all about.  His Five Lessons book became one you just had to have in your collection. 

One of the definitive reads later on was "Ben Hogan: An American Life" by James Dodson. It was in this account of his life where I learned about his Dad's terrible suicide in the room next door when Ben was a small boy and the extreme poverty he grew up with.  Remarkably, Ben was born in 1912 - the same year that 2 other well known golfers were born, Sam Snead and Bryon Nelson.  Fascinating that history worked out that way.  3 of the greatest golfers the world had ever seen and all 3 were born the same year.

Outside of an already successful career up to that point, Ben is probably best known for the terrible auto accident he and his wife Valarie suffered on a foggy west Texas highway in 1949. This accident not only should've killed Ben but by throwing him self in front of his wife during the collision to protect her, in all likelihood saved his life.  While he had no business ever playing golf again, much less walking, it was less than a year later that Ben completed for the Los Angeles Open title - a title he eventually lost in a playoff.  When you read his about his career accomplishments, you have to simply shake your head at the grit and resolve this man displayed throughout his entire career.  His early days as a pro simply trying to make it, his glory days with the "Hogan Slam" and his post-accident days.

So you can see why it's easy to be a fan of "The Hawk" Hogan but I think my appreciation goes deeper than than.  It was said he "dug his game from the dirt" and it was on the range that he learned how to battle the wicked hook that nearly cost him his career at an early age.  Story after story exist about how he would position his caddies out to in the range to shag balls (this was long before today's method of beating balls to later be picked up by the ball picker).  The shag balls belonged to the golfer so he wanted to keep close tabs.  Anyway, he would position his caddy to the precise location and then proceed to hit iron after iron to that location - never making the caddy move more than a step or 2 one direction or another.  This focus and concentration are unlike anything we've seen since.

I think it's Ben's pursuit of perfection is what fascinates me even to this day.  To have the courage, drive, and discipline to do what was necessary to be the best he could be is something lost to today's athlete - especially when compared with the adversity he faced.  Too much fame, too much money, too much prestige, I guess.

Yes, I know Ben was a man a few words while on the golf course but to have the opportunity to watch him approach a golf course, dissect it, and then hit the shots necessary to conquer it would have been a remarkable sight to see.

Golfer #2 is a little closer to home - it would be my Dad, Ed King.  Dad taught me to play at an early age.  Ever since I was a little kid, I always remembered seeing a wedge kept in the backyard by the grill where Dad would continually work on his swing while grilling whatever was for dinner that night.  He was the proverbial tinker-er and was always trying this or trying that with his golf swing.  He taught me how the "how's and why's" of putting lead tape on a club.  i still have his old wooden shaft putter that is older than I am.  He would use that putter to "pop" his putts as was required during those days of longer, slower greens.

Keep in mind he wasn't a very big man - Dad was 5' 4" and weighed a 130 pounds and that was right after a soaking rain storm.  He didn't hit the ball very far but could chip and putt with the best of them.  I think that was from all the time spent practicing at the muni's he played at as a kid growing up in Sioux City when he couldn't afford to hit range balls.  Like most sports he played (bowling comes to mind), Dad was a precision player and enjoyed the mental side of the game more so than the brute muscle of the game.  He could hit a cut or a draw, hit it high or low as dictated by the shot at hand.  For an amateur, he had all the shots.  I remember more than one occasion walking over to the city park near our house so he could hit balls and I would shag them down.

Yes, Dad would spend hours working with me on my swing,  Teaching me subtlety that meant nothing at the time but I sure wish I had a diary now.  Any clubs I owned were simply sawed down versions of full sized irons - either my Dad would make them or our good family friend  Bob Marchand would make them.  Bob was the local head pro and greenskeeper (back in the days were one person typically did both jobs) at the local 9-hole club in Yankton, Hillcrest Country Club.  It wasn't until I was around 12 years old that I got my first set of clubs - a half set (3, 5, 7, 9, Driver, 3-Wood, and putter set) made by Austad out of Sioux Falls.  Yes, I had truly arrived that day!

Out side of the bowling alley I grew up in as part of the family business, my mornings, days, and nights at Hillcrest or the State Hospital Public course were some of the best memories I have growing up.  Even to this day it brings s smile to my face to go back home to Yankton and get the opportunity to play at Hillcrest.  In 50 years the course has changed tremendously and in 50 years it's barely changed at all.

Dad was a tough taskmaster on the golf course.  If he saw a flaw in your game or more importantly, in your attitude, you would know about.  I think the day he saw me throw a club in frustration started a long "time out" from golf until I got my head on straight.  It's a lesson I've learned to this day and I think it's helped keep my temper in check and provided an appropriate perspective during a round.  I hate to lose and will fight to my last breathe to beat you in a match, but once it's over, let's shake hands and enjoy ourselves over a cold beverage.

My last round with Dad was sometime in the late 90's before his health really started to fail. We played at Shadow Ridge CC in Omaha with my brothers on a windy, cold spring day.  He so enjoyed playing with his boys - Pat, Chris, and me. The golf wasn't always very good but the bullshit would fly and no one was immune from a jab.  God those were fun matches and I miss them dearly.

I learned to caddy for my Dad during those early days - whether it was an early Sunday morning round, a Thursday stag day, or some nearby small town "Open Tournamenet" that we would travel to.  He taught me where to stand and where not to stand.  The right and wrong way to tend a pin.  How of find a ball in the rough, and now to fix a pitch mark on a green.  How to be polite, and maybe most importantly, how to be a gentleman on the golf course.

Quick story - I remember caddying at a state tournament event for him one summer and marveling at some of the local talent at the time.  I distinctly remember caddying for Dad at the State Match Play tournament in Rapid City this one summer (1968?) and playing with us in the practice round were 2 hotshot young players from central South Dakota - Curt and Tom Byrum.  Both Byrum boys went on to play the Tour and Curt can be heard today as one of the announcers on the Golf Channel while Tom continues to play on the senior tour.  Obviously a big deal for me, a kid from small-town South Dakota.  Since it was only a practice round, Dad let me play a couple of holes with these guys and to this day I remember what a thrill it was.  By the way, Dad got 2nd place in his flight that year - he played great golf and I had a blast being part of the tournament action.

So there's 2 of my 3 I would love to have 1 more round with.  The stories I would hear......as I somehow think my Dad and the great Ben Hogan would have hit it off - maybe they just remind me of each other

So now we have 3 of the 4 and I'm hard pressed to pick my fourth.  Remember it's someone no longer with us.  There are lots of great players through time that would be awesome to play with - Gene Sarazen, Seve Bellestaros, Sam Snead, Bryon Nelson, Jimmy Demaret, etc. - they all come to mind. What other great players have I missed?

For now though, I think I'll stick with my threesome and enjoy my special day that way.

Thanks Dad for passing along your love of the game,  I think if you each Saturday morning when I play with my neighbor first thing.  Just the 2 of us heading out on a Saturday morning - not much said, just the enjoyment of a quiet round of golf as the sun comes up.  Somehow I would always be buying you the post-game beverage because I just know you would chip it dead for par on the last hold just like you did to me a million times before.  Mr. Hogan, I too would hope you would enjoy our weekly match - not for the quality of play nor the prestige of the victory but simply for our love of the game

Descending the Mountain

Day 7 - can you believe it?  I can't as time as flown by.  Might be due to the narcotic haze of these past 7 days but it's flown by non-the-less.

So yes, in case you haven't figured it out, I survived the procedure.  I survived with no complications, no mishaps, no oops.  Guess that makes me ahead of the game.

Last Wednesday got here quickly enough and while I did sleep surprisingly well, I was up and showering before the alarm when off.  By the time Donna was ready it was 5 AM and off we went to Shawnee Mission Medical Center for my date with Mr. Scalpel.

The check-in process was seamless and MJ, my Pre-Op nurse, was an absolute peach.  She had a dry sense of humor and was marvelous at keeping us loose and having a laugh.  When we found out that the surgeon had gone to the wrong hospital there was a few anxious moments but he arrived in plenty of time and was non-plussed on the goof-up so I didn't get too riled up either.

Right on time, they wheeled me up to the OR, I kissed Donna good-bye, said hi to the OR crew and they quickly put me into the big sleep (mostly so they didn't have to hear my ramblings as I was rather "relaxed" by that time.

The next thing I know they were walking me up - "on a level of 1 to 10 with 10 the highest, what's your pain level, Mr. King?" they kept asking.  152 seemed like a reasonable answer.

One aside, and sorry if this is a bit graphic, but during the procedure they installed a Foley catheter.  I had never had one before but it definitely had it's advantages.  Not worrying about going to the bathroom was really pretty nice.  More later on some of the not-so-good sides but all-in-all I suspect there's about 75,000 Chiefs' fans that would love something like this each football Sunday.  Just think about it.

The other wonderful device I discovered was the morphine pump.  A small plunger that became my life-line during the next 48 hours.  Pump it and you feel great, forget to pump it and you feel like shit - pretty simple concept.  I didn't forget very often.

Wednesday was pretty much a blur - took me 45 minutes to write 2 small test messages to the kids and to Donna later that night.  Kept falling asleep....must've been a really interesting text.

Thursday had me out of bed and that pretty much sucked but got over it with minimal moaning and groaning.  Some other good news was removal of the catheter, some not so good news was removal of the catheter.  Had to retrain the bladder and "dribbles" experienced were not the kind found on a basketball court.

I did learn an important safety tip - did you know that Vaseline is explosive?  So is Oxygen.  One of my (not so favorite) nurses was pretty upset that I was using Vaseline to handle chapped lips while also being hooked up to an O2 tube.  Her line was something to the effect of "do you want to blow up your face?".  So just let that be your important safety tip of the day - unless you DO want to blow up your face.

The remaining few days went by quickly - lots of naps, lots of interruptions for blood, vital signs, working with physical therapists, etc.  Had a nice visit with friend Jay through it all.

And of course, I would be so remiss not to give a shout-out to Donna.  She's been such a rock through this - someone I could lean on for anything.  They say you don't get too many chances in life at finding "the one" - I know I've been blessed beyond what I deserve because of her.  She is my shelter and I wouldn't be where I'm at without her.  Thanks Babe!

I've rambled on for some time now but want to close with the 10 universal truths I've learned this past week.  In no particular order, here they are -

1. When a nurse says "this won't hurt", don't believe it.   And when they say "Now, take a deep breathe", you better grab on tight.  Nuff said.

2. All modesty is instantly gone in the hospital.  My private parts saw more fresh air than a freshman at a hazing party.

3. Your life becomes totally controlled by the availability to use the bathroom.  Bathrooms are your lifeline to try and prevent something really embarrassing from happening.  However, after a couple of said embarrassments, a couple more just don't really matter. 

4. For some reason blood work draws can only happen at 5 AM while you're trying to sleep.  I really feel sorry for the poor technicians.  All of them start their jobs at 4 AM - how much fun can it be waking someone from a deep sleep only to begin sticking them with needles to find a few ounces of blood.  They were at least all very pleasant, apologetic, and appreciative of any kindness offered their way.

5. Nurses are always right on time to take your vitals but show up missing when it's time for your meds.  I don't think I missed a blood pressure or temperature taking but when the meds started to wear out or I buzzed for some bathroom assistance the responses were sometimes slow.  I will say that all-in-all the nurses were angels and their degree of caring and compassion is above all other.

6. The morphine pump is one of God's greatest inventions.  Being competitive that I am, I would try to time my next available pump (every 6 minutes) as close as possible.  Like a junkie and his high, there's nothing quite as satisfying as hearing the "double beep" of a successful hit when the plunger was pushed.  Kind of a drug-induced version of Russian Roulette.  And if I feel asleep for a couple of hours, I got really good at playing catch up over the next 24 minutes to get back to a manageable level of pain.

7. The absolute worst day was day 6 of no BM activity - the absolute best day was late Monday night when the logjam finally broke! (Sorry for being so graphic).  You think open back surgery is bad, try going for 6 straight days without taking a crap.  I never felt terrible during the ride but I knew the day of reckoning was coming.  Figured once I got home to familiar surroundings the body would rally - wrong!  Lot's of swings and misses.  Started trying anything and finally on day 6 the gates of Hell opened up. I thought just for an instant I would achieve earth orbit.  For my wife, you truly are a saint.  For the dog, you truly must be without smell.  And for my neighbors, a hearty "I'm sorry" is all I can offer.  Never, repeat never, mess with the BM - he is ruler of all.

8. Don't piss off the graveyard nurse - they hold your life in their fingertips. It might be just me but I get a little creeped out by the one person who can come into your room at any hour and slip whatever they want into our IV.  I tried to be especially nice and oh yeah, tried to sleep with one eye open.  Had visions of being "hobbled" by Kathy Bates - enough said.

9. "Escape from New York" with Snake Blitzkin is an awesome movie when you've just taken your narcotic meds.  It's really an awesome movie anyway but some Valium just adds to the realism.  By the way, if I die, I want to come back as Snake Blitzkin.

10. Thank every day you have your health.  I saw lots of very sick people and thank my stars for my health and the great support system I have around me.  You can't do it alone.  Thanks to Shawnee Mission Medical Center, Dr. Streibinger, his P.A., Connie, and the rest of the staff at Neurosurgery Associates of Kansas.  You all have my heartfelt thanks!

As my neighbor has now nicknamed me - signing off -

Nuts and Bolts King

Pre Pre-Op

It's less than 48 hours before my back surgery.  Gulp.  It seemed so far away earlier this summer when the decision was made to have the surgery - sure was a good idea then.  But now summer has slipped by and here we are on Labor Day Monday and Wednesday is coming quickly.

Tomorrow the process starts with a quick stop at the hospital for some blood work and whatever other fluids they need and then it's Go Time starting at 5:30 Wednesday morning.

The official name for the procedure is TLIF - Transformaminal Lumbar Interbody Fusion.  Simply put, a disc removal and fusion on the lower back with some extra hardware thrown in for good measure.  The goal is to once and for all remove the numbness and pain down my right leg.  Here's a good video of the procedure - http://www.spine-health.com/video/transforaminal-lumbar-interbody-fusion-tlif-video

What I love about this video is how nice and clean the anatomy is - where's the blood and gristle?  Somehow I don't think the real thing is quite so sanitary.

I'm definitely anxious about it all - mostly about the recovery both in the hospital post surgery and the weeks following recuperating at home.  Visions of tubes and needles and bad hospital food has me wound up so am working hard to keep busy and stay calm these next 2 days.

Donna has been a rock star in helping me prepare.  She's been so busy with her own Dad's health issues and the Elvis episode, I feel bad that her plate is so full.  So I will try and be a good patient and not be a jerk just because I don't feel so good.  If you don't hear from me a few weeks post-op please come looking because I probably pissed her off and she stuffed me in a closet!

While recovery time is a bit up in the air, I've definitely set some goals - I want to be well enough to be part of Alison's 30th birthday party in Las Vegas in late October and I want to be able to walk 18 holes (not play of course) but walk some Saturday morning this Fall with neighbor Lance when he plays.  I figure that being on a golf course in the fall will be great for my rehab and my mental well-being.  But for now, let's just get to Wednesday night.

More to come.  Keep me in your thoughts and let's hope my surgeon is a morning person and brings his A-game on Wednesday.

TLIF on Three.  1 - 2 - 3 - TLIF!