Today
There are certain days that mold a person. They’re the days you look back on and see a turning point in your life – without the phone call or letter or event or chance encounter that happened that day, you wouldn’t (couldn’t) be the person you are today. I can think of a few of those days for me: the days I received my acceptance letters to Brown and Michigan, the day I met my lovely wife, my wedding day, the day we met Charlie, and the one I’m thinking about today – July 11, 2003.
July 11, 2003 was the scariest day of my life. Thankfully, it turned out to also be one of the best. On was that day I spent five hours under the knife in a Columbia Presbyterian Hospital operating room. In semi-technical terms I had a Thoracolumbar laminectomy, T12, L1-L2 and partial L3 to remove an ependymoma. In layman’s terms, the surgeon cut a hole in my lower back and through my vertebrae to remove a benign tumor from my spinal column.
It all began sometime in late 2002 with pain and tightness in my left hamstring and lower back. I wasn’t in constant, or even regular, pain. It would come and go, but I remember it being worst laying in bed at night. I was in good shape at the time – lifting weights four or five days a week and running a few times a week as well – and for the first few months, it didn’t even interfere with my workouts. I couldn’t think of any one “event” that could have caused the pain and just assumed it was a tweaked muscle and that, with advil, stretching and some care, it would resolve itself. But it was getting worse. After some internet research, I self-diagnosed (doctor’s love seeing the words “self-diagnose” and “internet” next to each other) sciatica. It made sense: something was compressing my sciatic nerve, which caused the pain down my leg. By then it was early June and we were getting worried. At that point I made a stupid move that ended up being my saving grace. I made an appointment at one of those all-in-one sports medicine offices where they have a doctor, chiropractor, massage therapy, physical therapy and acupuncturist. This place got you in the door and then billed your insurance company for all they could – I met with every specialist on the staff and they wanted me in as often as my insurance would allow. They couldn’t tell what was “wrong”, but we assumed that if it wasn’t sciatica it was some other type of spinal compression or disc issue. At one of my early visits, they suggested that I also get an MRI to get a good look at the discs. Reluctantly, I scheduled the MRI.
Now, it’s mid-June. I’d never had an MRI before. I was much more nervous about getting into that tight MRI tube than I was about the results of the scan. But the technicians were really nice, explaing to me how it worked and giving me headphones to listen to the radio while the procedure was going on. It was pretty claustrophobic in the MRI “tube”, but I closed my eyes and thought about the loud banging sounds, which were surprisingly comforting. As I was leaving, they told me that the results would be sent to my doctor in a few days. It was only a few hours later that I got a call at my office. It was the radiologist. He wanted me to come back in for another round of scans. Why? There was something there. In my spine. Around L1/L2. It looked like an “ependymoma” – a “tumor”, but don’t worry because “99.9%” are benign. Whoa. I called Elizabeth. I called my parents. I returned for another MRI, and sure enough, there it was. It wasn’t “big”, but it was big enough to put pressure on a nerve and cause the shooting pain. The doctor told me that surgery was really the only option. No, it wasn’t an emergency, but no, it’s not going to go away or get any better. Fuck. To complicate matters, I already had the engagement ring and my whole plan. We were going to Bermuda on July 6. How am I supposed to have surgery and do that? How am I supposed to even plan a surgery and keep that part secret from my fiancee-to-be?
But that fiancee-to-be sprung into action. She contacted everyone we knew asking for surgeon recommendations. She combed through the “Best Doctors in NY” edition of New York Magazine. She made phone calls and searched on-line. Was it days or only hours before she had an exhaustive list of the best neurosurgeons in New York? Then we made appointments. We sent copies of the MRIs to friends of my parents in San Diego and friends of the Shaffers at Johns Hopkins. We had a list of questions to ask the surgeons. This was a pretty rare surgery and most specialists only saw a few cases a year. We were going to find the best one. Everyone who saw the MRI’s agreed that I had to have surgery. Now it was just a matter or who, when and where.
Dr. Paul McCormick was the second surgeon we met, and instantly we knew he was the one. He had experience – he did this surgery at least as often as anyone else in the country. He was friendly and serious. He asked me the right questions and answered ours showing that he cared. He explained the risks of doing the surgery and of not doing the surgery. He also said that we could go to Bermuda. We scheduled the surgery for Friday, July 11.
Bermuda was wonderful. We relaxed and read and slept and, of course, got engaged! Right on the beach. We got back and my parents and the Shaffers came into town. In a picture from the night before the surgery, Elizabeth and I are tanned and happy. We were trying not to think too much about tomorrow.
I don’t remember much of that day, really. I remember my mom, dad and fiancee in the prep room; I remember my dad being the last one there and handing me off to the anaesthesiologist; I remember all the shiny chrome in the bright and busy operating room; I remember laying down on the table; I remember waking up in a small curtained room surrounded by smiling family and friends; I remember my hospital room and these inflatable things on my legs; I remember that weapon the catheter; I remember never feeling that vulnerable before in my life; I remember never feeling so well taken care of in my life; I remember Assaf napping on a little chair-bed next to me; I remember the button that gave me morphine through the IV. Most important of all, I remember hearing that it worked – the promise of a pain-free body. And it did.
Dr. McCormick confirmed that the tumor was benign. However, he wasn’t able to get the entire tumor out. The surgery required him to strike a balance between removing the tumor and ensuring that he didn’t damage a nerve or anything else inside my spinal column that I need. But he was confident that he got enough. And he did.
I don’t think too often about that day. Thankfully, my only physical reminder is a nice, long scar on my lower back. But the lessons from that day are with me all the time and have helped shape who I am and who I want to be: first, you never know what tomorrow will bring – tomorrow could be pain or joy, sadness or happiness; today is what really matters. I have annual MRIs to make sure that the tumor isn’t growing back. It could. But unless it does, I can’t waste time thinking about what could happen. Second, I learned about the strength and resiliency of the human body. The body can take a beating and with proper care and attention, can come back stronger and better than before. Finally, it made me realize that you can’t do anything without the support of family and friends.
Now here I am, about to embark another previously incomprehensible physical challenge – another test of my strength and ability to break through pain. The lessons from that day have guided me through this training and will be in my mind as I race on July 22.
p.s. Yes, Mom, I will schedule my annual MRI – after the race!
p.p.s We still have all the MRI film and I actually planned on getting one inserted here. The problem is that I can’t read the film well enough to see where the tumor is! Sorry.
Run – July 9
Distance: 3.7 miles
Time: 31 minutes
Average heart rate: 136
Course: Greenwich Village
Conditions: Hot (high 70’s), sunny, muggy (80% humidity), nasty!
Swim – July 10
Distance: 2,300 yards
Time: 46 minutes
Bike – July 10
Time: 30 minutes
Average heart rate: 104
Indoor ride
Brick – July 11
Total Time: 1:29
Average heart rate: 141
Bike:
Distance: 17 miles
Time: 56:28
Average heart rate: 135
Course: West Side Highway to Central Park, one loop
Transition: 2:43
Run:
Distance: 4.0 miles
Time: 29:44
Average heart rate: 159
Course: West Side Highway
Conditions: grey, humid, hot