Friday, November 30, 2012

chai don't know how to say this...

This week we had our final appointment with my neurosurgeon.

It was our last one because I'm all clear from his point of view - that means everything from the day he cut me open is a-okay! (I still have to wean from my old concussion meds but that's another story)

Nothing about it was bitter-sweet... it was all sweet-sweet.

While we sat in the waiting room that early morning, sipping coffee, Neil and I played the "remember when..." game.

"Remember when we first came here thinking it was just a follow up for a research study, and I told you, 'there's nothing this doctor or this study can say to change my circumstances.'"

or

"Remember our appointment just three months ago, and how scared we where."

or

"Remember when we could never find a place to sit because of all the TVs and background noise."

Then we went into the exam room and I got to see Dr Okonkwo again. He gave me the final clearance and he gave me the chance to say thank you.... except how does one say thank you for something like this?

I knew I would be at a loss for words so I baked the office my new favorite Chai Sugar Cookies (props to Annan for the recipe).


Even then - "Here's some cookies. Thanks." hardly expresses the implied... "Dr. O, You took the time to see something that every doctor missed. You believed in a pain that no one else could see. You gave me a future I had long given up as lost. And after four years, when I couldn't even remember what it felt like not to hurt, you eased my pain. So here; I mixed up some butter and flour, because there really is no standard 'you brought my life back from darkness' gift. I hope you like sugar."

Whether he got the fullness of the message or not, we left the office and we left that part of our lives behind. I'm not fully better but I'm moving forward so fast in so many areas. I can see this clearly in many small ways. We stepped into the morning sun and crossed the street to the parking garage. I took a bold risk and opted to ride with Neil on the way out instead of waiting for him at the bottom. We circled around and around to the exit, and for the first time, I didn't feel sick.

9 comments:

  1. I can pretty much bet that just seeing you smiling and getting your life back is the sort of thing that doc lives for. It makes all the years of study, sacrifice, and malpractice premiums well worth it.

    But cookies are a pretty close second for saying thanks to a guy in any walk of life. :)

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    1. I was hopping more than anything it would sink in for him - just like you said - make it 'worth it' you know? He only sees me for a few hours here and there, so its probably hard for him to truly understand that what he does changes my entire day to day life. but at least he got some cookies.

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  2. LOVE!

    Cousin Katie

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  3. EM - I am so inspired by your strength and perserverance. God truly created something special when you were born. We all knew it then, but that is nothing compared to NOW, today. I am so proud of you and Neil and your Mom and your neurosurgeon.

    God Bless YOU. I hope this means I will see you next Saturday night.....

    Love ya, Uncle DUNZ

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    1. I got the invite months ago and that date seemed like a million miles away - now its here and I am so much better than I could have imagined! I can't wait for the party for so many reasons!! And I wouldn't miss a hoist and twirl for anything in this world!

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  4. Many tears have been shed since your accident. Tonight mine are tears of joy!

    All my Love,
    Aunt Mary

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    1. Thank you Aunt Mary, I feel the same way. It felt rare and wonderful to cry happy tears in a doctors office!

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  5. I'm sure he loved your cookies because hr could enjoy the fact that you could make them!!!!! Love you Cindy

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