Camp is coming.

The number one topic of discussion in our house last week was making the trip up to Sequoia Lake to drop Jaelynn off for a week-long stay at the YMCA music camp. My surgery was scheduled the day before drop off. I was aware that my procedure played second fiddle to the feverish planning our daughter was putting into her first sleep-away camp.

full car rideCome Saturday morning, less than 24 hours post surgery, my husband packed our Hyundai to the gills and we drove her and her BFF up the mountain. I learned that two enthusiastic band girls belting out Hamilton songs during the hour-long drive is a good distraction from whatever ails you.

But who are we kidding, parents? Being present for our kids often comes before our own comfort.

Case in point: the piggyback ride up a hill.

I didn’t factor in what I would encounter when we got to the lake. How was I planning to trek up hills and climb steps with a bandaged foot and pain screaming through my toes? This could get complicated.

It was out of the question for me to sit this one out. I was eager to help my little girl navigate through her camp introduction. My husband stepped in with no hesitation and told me to hop on his back. He’s been our faithful Sherpa since the beginning.

My left foot bounced limply as he hauled me up the hill. My arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, still gripping my walking cane in one hand. I tried not to notice onlookers watching as we slowly climbed, kicking up dirt and causing a scene. I don’t like to draw attention to my injury. I don’t want to say I’m embarrassed by it but I like to pretend people can’t see it.

There is one thing I’ve learned in my 13 years of living with varying degrees of immobility. People stare.

The girls avoiding my picture request

This time was no different. Not only were strangers staring at us, our own daughter was running up the hill, trying to escape the humiliation of her parents seemingly playful (but very necessary) antics.


Once we got to the top, I limped off and found a quiet place to sit. I watched from a close distance as the girls buzzed around, oblivious to our parental presence, and making fast friends with their cabin mates.

I wasn’t going to let another surgery, or the discomfort of random stares, keep me from watching my daughter delight in her new digs for the week.

I realized sometimes you just have to hop on and say who cares.





Back on the Blog…and the Couch

I’m back on the recovery couch. Another surgery, another recovery period where it feels like starting all over. I needed to make this time different.

It’s been more than four years since my last blog post.

I’ve thought about coming back to it over the years but got wrapped up in jobs, motherhood, paying off debt, keeping house…just life. I also didn’t think I had much to talk about. But I do.

Anybody who’s had chronic injuries/pain may know what I’m talking about. It can be overwhelming and frankly, exhausting. I had a good 10 years with no surgeries or medications or infections but that run ended this year.

Bone grew into metal; metal was butting against joints, and if I ever hoped for an ankle replacement, I had to make steps toward that now.

My second recovery of the year follows a toe surgery from yesterday. It was a relatively easy procedure compared to the previous 8, or 10, I’ve lost count. During this spin around the O.R., they fused the 2nd and 3rd toes on my left foot. Basically, they’ve been curling up (hammer toe) over the years and I finally had them straightened out, each with a permanent titanium rod.


My toes have become a hindrance in my yoga practice and I’m hoping this procedure will help out my downward dog. I’ll be back on the mat soon but in the meantime I’m laid up with Netflix and dipping my toes back into the blogosphere. (Pun intended)