Month: August 2026

I used to go hide in the closet. I’d sit on the floor against the wall with my mother’s wedding portrait above my head. Close the door and embrace the enveloping darkness. I would cry the as-yet-unrelinquished tears until I was spent, or simply sit in the black unreality, until all the particles of me were taken up by the nothingness and there was no part of me left to come undone.

I need solitude, like all good introverts. I crave it; there will come a point in every social interaction where I will shut down, even if on the outside I am still talking, laughing, listening. It’s subtle. Sometimes, in a very intense conversation, I will literally start shaking. I feel the tremors, I feel the intensity overwhelm me. This has happened all my life. If there is anger in the intensity, there will also be tears, much to my dismay.

When I met Tony, he had an eight-year-old daughter. I thought this was really fun, until I figured out that she was going to be around all the time. This was a child that didn’t go home after her lesson. I was expected to entertain her, take care of her, feed her, love her. And I did. But it was rough at first, for sure. I had an immediately effective daughter, looking up to me and ecstatic to be riding horses. Wanting to be by my side at every turn, wanting to hang out with me and help me. I didn’t know what to do with it. I didn’t want that kind of attention. I loved her, initially because I loved her dad, and later because of who she is. I wanted to please them both. I was very used to being alone, though, and I remember crying tears of frustration because all of a sudden, I was no longer completely in control of my own life. There was someone else to consider. Two someone else’s.

Tony loved both of us, was in love with me, but I was desperately afraid of this love he felt for someone else. Not jealous, because I knew it was completely different. But weirded out, in a sense, because I didn’t understand it. At thirty-five I had never experienced anything like it. I had always lived alone, except in college. I was selfish, and I knew it. At the same time, I felt an immediate mama bear protectiveness for her. There was no way someone was going to hurt her on my watch. Confusion, frustration and a deep desire to hold onto what I had finally found sent me into the closet more often than I care to admit in those early years. Just trying to give myself some space to figure things out, the closet was a space that nobody, and nothing, else could enter. A brief time-out, for a grown-ass woman that was unraveling fast.

Tony, being the extraordinary man that he is, was patient and loving. He never gave up on me, never even got mad at me. There were times I was sure he would. That he should. I intrinsically understood that his daughter was exactly like him, made in his mold. And that scared me even more. How could I compete with that? How would I ever fit into that dynamic? What if we had our own child one day – was there room in his heart to love another one? He was so attached and so committed to the one he already had, I was scared that he wouldn’t feel the same depth of love for another one. Of course, these are questions that someone asks when they don’t have a child, and don’t yet understand that the heart only grows bigger. It doesn’t have to make space for another child, the space simply becomes.

Of course, looking back, I should not have questioned anything. God knew what he was doing when he gave Tony a child more like himself, and then another girl, more like me. (Not entirely like me…. she doesn’t like to read, and where would she get THAT from, if not her Daddy?!) Tony himself took to his second daughter naturally, easily, whereas I fretted and fussed (probably a lot more than with the first, handed to me as an 8-year-old, child, if we’re being honest). Sissy was the first person I called, even before her Daddy (who was in Haiti at the time), to tell her she was going to have a Baby Sister. I was completely over the moon to give her what she so desperately wanted.

I considered it my mission to teach her to ride and to make her tough. I had a pony named Rocco who was a real little shit. Which of course made me completely devoted to him. I told her, if you want to ride you have to ride this one. She did. She was extremely committed to riding, and eventually to that pony. She loved her time with us and once told me as I picked her up after school on a Wednesday that even though she got in trouble that day and was supposed to stay after, that there was no way she was going to miss her Wednesday afternoon at her Dad’s. Oh shit, I thought. Now we’re really going to get into trouble! And then the time she didn’t want to go spend time with some family members and I said she could stay with me. The family members were not happy with me at all. But I was more concerned with the little girl crying in her bedroom and how I could fix it. I was intent on making her a horsewoman. She missed a cruise with her mom’s family once because she would rather go to a horse show with us. Of all the things we ever did, I loved horse showing with her the most. Even when it was disappointing or frustrating. I loved sharing those days with her, the same way I love sharing them with Baby Girl now. My favorite thing in the world is to watch Baby Girl’s face light up when her sister comes to watch her ride.

And now? She’s going to be twenty-five tomorrow. She and I have turned out to be good friends, as I always suspected we would be. I made a lot of mistakes as she was growing up, there are a lot of my own actions that I regret. Becoming a step-mom when you have no child of your own already is no easy feat. Especially for an introvert who guards her alone time fiercely and has no idea what to do with a blond haired moppet that follows her around. But we made it, and I am grateful for you, for your “big sisterness” to Baby Girl, for the way you make your dad and I laugh, for the grandson you gave us, and for never giving up on me. We’ve had a lot of fun moments, shared experiences, and the constant love and attention of the two people who love us without question.

I don’t hide in the closet anymore. Sometimes I stare at it longingly for a few minutes. Then I move on, to whatever and whomever needs me next. With age comes perspective, wisdom, contentment, or at least acceptance. There is strength in letting yourself sit in the blackness, the blankness, though. Letting go, shutting down, feeling nothing and everything all at once… do it. Recalibrate. Then get up, and come out, and handle shit like the rock star women (and men) you are. The strength comes from knowing it’s there if you need it, knowing that even in the deepest moments of doubt and despair, you may break down, but you will always get back up. I know it’s a subtle connection, but what I’m trying to say is…

Happy 25th birthday Sissy, don’t ever forget what a badass you are.

From where I sit in the living room, in the recliner, I can see the box of toys in the corner that my grandson plays with when he comes over. I can see the grandmother clock that used to hang on the wall in my parents’ house. I can see the chair that I rocked Baby Girl in when she was young. I can see that the cowboy hat my dad wore to my wedding needs to be cleaned and that the TV console needs to be dusted. The dog is in the chair with me, at my right elbow, essentially in the way as dogs tend to be.

Baby Girl has a long list of things to do today and Tony does too. But I am under no illusion that everything will get done, certainly not to my personal standards. Men and twelve-year-olds are not great at keeping a house clean and orderly. But we trekked to Wally World this morning, a task my husband hates, and now I am in pain and tired. He groused slightly when I asked him to stop and see what time the UPS store opens today. He grudgingly went into Dunkin Donuts for me. On the whole, he has been a saint, but it is not easy to do your spouse’s bidding 24/7 and he is quick to let me know that “his time is coming.” He refers to when he, hopefully and eventually, gets his lower back finally fixed up. I can’t wait, I tell him. I have zero doubt that everything I am asking you for now will be handed back to me twelve-fold as all wives know how helpless men are when they are sick or in pain. Which I suppose could be considered fair, because I for one am not as patient a caregiver as he is. I will start out patient, but I will quickly get overstimulated and overwhelmed and I will become short and cranky. Because he’s not concerned with the state of the house, the laundry, or what anyone needs to eat, he has the ability to be a lot more easy going. Or just unbothered.

But I am bothered. I am used to “taking care of things.” I want to be up, handling stuff, getting things done and staying on top of the organized chaos. I need to be outside, not just because I have horses and a property to take care of, but because I have a “sunflower” nature. I require sunshine and fresh air to be happy. I require hard work and satisfaction of a job well done. I require the hum of bees and cicadas, the foghorn call of a male bullfrog, the sweet smell of fresh cut grass, the pounding of hooves and the melodic munching of hay. Summer is by far my favorite season, and while as I get older the incessant heat becomes harder to bear, I will still insist that a summer evening sipping wine on the porch is very hard to beat, blissful-wise.

I was out there last night because a new pony came in, and I wanted to meet it. It was Tony and Baby Girl who helped get her off the trailer, set up a stall for her and hose her down after her long journey. But she is sweet and let me carefully pet her nose. It was dusk, the sun was going down, and the temperature was bearable. It was the first time in weeks I had been outside at that time. Usually I am in bed, propped up by pillows, watching The Crown with a pain pill settling in my system. I couldn’t be out there long but I definitely enjoyed the moment.

From my chair here (Baby Girl has decided now is the time to be crafty and is sitting at the table instead of doing her chores) I can hear the birds chirping outside. Winter would have been a better time for this enforced vacation from life. I certainly would not have complained had I not been able to help with frozen water troughs, frozen ground and freezing temperatures. I could have been cocooned here with the fireplace roaring, and not felt like I was missing out at all. I might have felt a little more guilty, of course, because winter is hard with horses, but I wouldn’t have been as resentful. January and February would have been the perfect time.

Alas, we do not always get to choose. At least I will be (potentially) completely healed and ready to celebrate the holidays pain-free. One of my favorite things to do, besides shopping, is to drink wine while wrapping presents in front of a cheerful, twinkly Christmas tree. So I’m looking forward to that, and to a new season of life with less chronic pain in it. I never dreamed that at 51 I would have such a serious surgery, but I absolutely knew it was coming eventually. With the x-rays and MRI’s of my neck that I’ve seen over the years there was certainly no way to avoid it forever. And now I’ve gotten a huge thing off my plate, something that will make my quality of life so much better. There’s a huge amount of relief in that thought. That maybe, just maybe, things are looking up.

The dog has shifted to my left elbow, the husband is now napping on the couch and Baby Girl has disappeared to her room where she insists she is working on her chores. I doubt it. There’s not a lot I can do about any of it so I will continue to sit here and ponder life and wish I could at least look out the window. I think it’s about time for a pain pill and a Diet Coke.

The only place I can really get comfortable is my husband’s recliner in the living room, which he has graciously given over to me for the time being. It’s large, comfortable, leans well enough back, and the tiny dog fits here too. I find that my head and neck need to be evenly aligned with my shoulders or the pain is too much to bear for very long.

It isn’t a type of pain I expected. I thought the surgery site would be terrible. It isn’t. They went in through the front of my neck, moved my esophagus, trachea, and muscles over so that they could “clean up” the damaged bones and material, and insert a spacer cage, metal plate and screws to hold everything together while the fusion takes place over many months. No, the surgery site only hurts if I inadvertently move my neck forward or backward too much (which is virtually impossible with this collar on) or try to “slide down” in the bed to get comfortable enough to sleep.

The real pain comes from the back and shoulder muscles they aggressively manipulated to do the surgery in the first place. I do not know if I was thrashing around – surely I was too asleep to do much – or if they simply don’t pay much attention to what they are actually doing to your muscles during the procedure, but the bruises are still there two weeks later and the muscle pain I endure daily is pretty dramatic, even for me, who is quite used to being in a lot of pain.

The incessant, sharp nerve pain is gone and that is a relief. The surgery did work. The right arm is still weak but no longer gets tingly and numb. It might take up to six months for my right bicep to work properly again. The threat of permanent damage to my right arm, and the high risk of becoming paralyzed if I were ever in any type of accident involving my neck is what led this surgery to happen so quickly. I asked the doctor if it could wait, to November? After the show season was finished? If you are a risk-taker, sure, he says. Are you a risk-taker or a person who plays it more safely? Considering the stakes, I think we can go ahead and plan that surgery in ten days, I answer.

I could write a blog post a mile long about all the things surrounding this surgery, my stay in the hospital where they really did not explain any after care, or worry about me too much – I sent Tony home for the night (which was a mistake) – the fact that the collar was too loose because no one checked it so I was in more pain the first night than I should have been, a nurse asking if I had been in a car accident, pain pills that made me incredibly nauseous but I was desperately afraid of throwing up so I made sure I didn’t, and the nerves and fear I felt going into the whole thing.

I will say my husband, as always, has been a complete rock. The surgeon is an extremely nice man, his office staff is amazing, and quick to respond. If you need a neurospine surgeon he is the man to go to. The nurses in the hospital were mostly really nice and all my friends have been checking in almost daily, sending me cards, bringing me food, and taking care of my horses.

So here’s the thing I didn’t expect. When I stand up for any length of time, my neck (weakened by the cervical collar which we will get to in a moment) can’t handle the pressure, the strain on my shoulders goes into my back and I have a knot the size of a fist sitting on my left shoulder blade. All this pulls, hard, downward, and there is no relief to be had. There is no position I can move my arm to relieve this pressure. If it gets super bad, it will take hours of sitting perfectly still in the bed, leaning back, to reduce the pain. The muscle relaxers aren’t working. Ice helps, but the lidocaine does nothing except clear my nasal passages. Heat lower down in my back helps the stiffness, but I can’t get anything to help my neck muscles because…

The effing collar. I have to wear it 24/7. I have to sleep in it. The only thing holding my neck together right now is the cage/plate/screws. If any of that shifts, back to surgery I go. As I am extremely opposed to starting all over, I am trying to be as careful as possible. But. Y’all. This collar SUCKS. I have another one, a WORSER one, that I have to put on to be in the shower. It’s hard plastic and waterproof. There is never any time when my neck gets relief from a collar covering it all up. No ice or heat can get directly to it. We’ve tried stuffing the ice or heat up under the collar but that only puts added pressure, and I can’t stand it for long. We have taken the collar off extremely briefly to change the padding, or to put liniment (horse liniment!) on my neck, which does help briefly. This thing goes up the back of my head, and I have to sleep on it which does not do wonderful things for these headaches I get. You can sleep on your side, if you can figure out how to do that and be comfortable at the same time. Not an easy feat. I can do that, to take the pressure off the back of my head, for about 45 minutes before I have to move to my back again.

Here’s the kicker, when I do take it off, however briefly, I feel vulnerable and exposed and I can’t wait to put it back on. I am craving that security. I am terrified I will fall or trip or move my head accidentally in a way that will screw everything up.

Now Monday I got to go to the emergency room. The vein in my right arm, where the IV was, is rock hard, ropy, and you can feel it all the way from my wrist to my elbow. I wasn’t particularly worried, as Google told me it was a superficial vein, but when I called the surgeon to report it, they insisted I go to the ER to get an ultrasound because of the risk of deep vein thrombosis after surgery. My husband had to stop work (thankfully he is able to work from home right now) and take me to the ER, where we spent the next five hours waiting for them to tell us that I am fine, but that I should start taking aspirin and Motrin to help the blood in the vein thin out and break down. This, of course, led the surgeon to ordering a “bone growth stimulator” for me to wear every day, thirty minutes a day, for nine months. When your bones are trying to fuse, you do not want any NSAID type of medication interfering with the inflammatory process that stimulates bone growth. Luckily, through my own common sense, I had stopped taking those as well as the Turmeric supplement I usually take and the Meloxicam for arthritis. I was told to stop taking those for a week before the surgery, but nobody mentioned anything about continuing to not take them after the surgery. Since I have a lot of fun looking things up on Google (and currently a lot of time), I educated myself on the anti-inflammatory medications and supplements and ACDF procedures and all the related things. Spent a couple happy hours lost in the University of Google.

I also use Google to look up all the historical inaccuracies of the show The Crown, which I have been watching for a couple weeks now. I am really enjoying that, both the show and the education.

Right now, I am sitting here pondering what else folks would want to know about this whole process. It is definitely harder than I expected it to be, I did not anticipate two weeks after I would still be better off sitting here than doing anything else. I can’t bend down, lean over, squat, or otherwise move my spine. All of which is very hard not to do, when you are the type of person who just wants to get things done. I can’t lift anything heavier than a gallon of milk for the next few months. This collar will be on until the end of October, then I have to wean myself off of it, as my neck muscles will be completely unable to support anything at that point. I did not get to get my hair done before the surgery, but I can’t lift my arms to put it up anyway. So when you see me at the horse shows look anywhere but at my hair! I will figure out how to wear a hat I hope.

I am sharing my Go Fund Me in case anyone feels inspired to help, every cent of which is going to medical bills, and every cent of which I appreciate tremendously. I might be writing quite a few blog posts over the next couple of months, as I have nothing else I can do and a lot of thoughts in my head. Thank you to all who are keeping up with my story, supporting, donating, caring and reaching out. I appreciate you all very much!

https://gofund.me/1635f967a