A blog by Lori Lyons

Friday, May 23, 2014

Bent Wings -- A Scoliosis Journey: Postponed

I swear this is true.

I was sitting at the computer, trying to concentrate on ... something ... But my mind began to wander, as it frequently does, to her surgery.  June 24th. The date on all our calendars. I just happened to glance at the lower corner of my screen to check the date. May 19th. More than a month to go. How will I make it?

Then the phone rang.

It was the surgeon's office, his assistant, wanting to know if it was OK if we postpone the surgery to July 3rd.

And I felt the punch in the gut.

To him, it's probably like postponing his dentist appointment, his haircut, his pedicure. To me? It's another nine days to fret, to worry, to agonize, to imagine the worst, to rationalize, the justify to those who don't understand, to figure out our life, to hope for the best, to try not to think about it (yeah, right). And I do all those things, all the time.

"Is that OK," the young woman on the phone asked.

"Do we have a choice?" I replied.

She chuckled.

"I guess so," I said -- even though it means she probably won't be healed enough for the first day of school, which is August 11th. Even though every day I look at her, I see more and more of a dramatic lean. Even though she complained just the other day about her back hurting while she was sitting at her sister's graduation; then again while standing at her weekly singing lesson. Even though I am worried to death about all of it, and can burst into tears at the mere idea of that man cutting my daughter open.

 I wasn't sure how she would react. While I am a nervous-wreck over the whole thing, my Snarky Teenager seems completely unaffected by the whole thing. She's not scared, not nervous, not afraid.  She doesn't talk about it, doesn't ask questions. She did watch a few YouTube videos I've found that were posted by other kids. That's enough for her. When anyone asks her about it, she just replies, "It's going to make me better."

I've tried to get her to join the online support groups, become pro-active.  She wants no part. I was actually surprised to see that she had drawn kind of a funny picture of her spine on her art portfolio from school.

This is the cover of Lora's art portfolio from school.

"I don't need a support group, Mom," she says. "You do."

She's right. And I have one on Facebook.

Still, I sat her down. Held her hand. And told her that her surgery had been postponed.

"Good!" she said. "I was going to miss the start of Teen Wolf."

Well, there ya go.

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