I Tried Not To Cry. Michael Beattie
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me, as I couldn’t afford to hire anyone to help.
My back pain grew considerably worse each day as I was forced to sit on a stool every time a customer entered my shop, as it helped relieve the pain somewhat. I’m not sure if my customers really understood how much discomfort I was in as I tried to not mention anything to anyone, but I’m sure my miserableness showed. Yet, I still refused pain medications. For two years, I tried every alternative type of therapy, including spinal injections, which did very little to ease the pain. My legs were going numb, and physically I was turning my once athletic body into a medical disaster. I drank more beer than ever as I tried to self-medicate the pain some, still mourning the loss of my wife and having self-pity, yet, nothing seemed to work. It became a real chore to go to work each day. So once again, I was forced to go see my neurosurgeon after suffering for two years.
Now this neurosurgeon had no patient bedside manner, but when he saw me, he quickly smiled and told me that there wasn’t many a day that passed that he didn’t talk with his colleagues about my neck case, making me think that maybe I was lucky. He seemed to warm up to me some, as he studied my most recent MRI. He clearly stated that aside from the scoliosis that I already knew I had that I had a severe case of spinal stenosis in my mid to lower back area which was cutting into the nerves. He suggested an open decompression surgery of a four-disc area and offered no healing time frame for me and no warranties. We set a date right there for another surgery at Hartford Hospital. I made plans with my apprentice at the shop to somehow make it through yet another difficult period of time.
Once again, I had to ask my friends for transportation to and from the hospital. The surgery was a success, and I found immediate pain relief, making me wonder why I waited for so many years of suffering. But because I waited too long to seek medical help, I did have major nerve damage, which left me unable to walk without the assistance of a walker. As I attempted to walk, my legs would be drawn away from me, almost as though a magnet was attracting them. I wasn’t sure how long this would last, and the surgeon could not make me any promises. This went on for a long time, and I wondered if I would ever be able to walk again, and there was a possibility that I wouldn’t.
One night as I lay in bed, still living alone with self-pity, I had a one-way conversation with God, and yes, it had been a long time since I had spoken to God, ever since my return from the military. I know it was selfish of me at my time of need, but I made an offer that if I could walk again that I would do something good for mankind. I knew this was a long shot even though I had no idea what I was going to do, but I was at a bad juncture in my life and needed guidance.
Delivering the Sunday morning newspapers required me to start early as the number of papers delivered would double in volume as many customers only ordered the Sunday edition, which was always a much larger paper. This would require many return trips to the general store to refill the side baskets on my bike before I headed out to complete another section of my route. I always had to start early in order to be back in time for the 8:00 a.m. mass at the small stone Catholic church, St. Joseph’s, which sat up high, overlooking the village below with its beautiful stained glass windows and pointed bell steeple. Each window of the church depicted a station of the cross in an elaborate yet beautifully done art form of mixed colors. There was no way I could miss mass, as my folks were devout Catholics, and missing a mass was out of the question. Not to mention I was an altar boy in that church for years, and the priest always relied on me being there, sick or not. The mass was said in Latin, and much effort went into learning another language for the responses. There were only a few altar boys among the two churches in our parish, so we were relied upon for our services.
It took time, but eventually I was able to rid myself of the walker and progressed to using a cane for stability, eventually walking independently again. I was left with two numb feet and partial leg numbness, but I didn’t really mind as it felt so good not having as much chronic back pain. I never thought I’d be happy to just walk again, as there was a time in my life when I considered myself a fairly good athlete. I competed in marathon canoe races, triathlons, and road running races. I loved to compete along with my wife and son, who were both good athletes. My love was to come home after a hard day of work, change into my shorts, and don my running shoes and take off running. I especially loved running the trails through the wooded areas near my home. I was enjoying nature as I got in a good workout, sort of trail running long before it became popular. For some reason, I also loved to compete, as I had a “push myself” type of competitive spirit that came from somewhere. But around the age of fifty, my degenerative back issues signaled an end to my running career, leaving me very depressed. I had been going to another chiropractor over the course of several years who had once taken an X-ray of my back after I started having issues. He then told me that I had a severe case of spinal scoliosis. I said, “What does that mean in layman terms?” as I had no clue what he meant. He said this to me, “You know those old people at the grocery store that are all bent over the shopping cart unable to lift their head up straight? Well, that will be you by the time you’re sixty-five years of age, if not sooner!” Imagine saying this to a guy that can run five minutes, thirty seconds to six minutes a mile in a road race. I was stunned. Actually, I was mad! I never went back to that guy ever again. I was knocked down so far, it made me angry. This was never going to happen to me if I had anything to do with it, never!
After I recovered from this second spinal surgery, I used the feel-goodness in helping my aging and failing parents with chores around their mobile home. So, between running my service business which had me on call twenty-four hours, seven days a week, trying to renovate my home, and helping take care of my parents’ needs, I had a full plate! My love for beer and food seemed to increase when I was stressed. No more running, no more sports. It wasn’t long before my health soon further deteriorated to the point my cholesterol, blood pressure, and sugar levels were out of control. Not to mention I was getting heavy! At my annual medical physical, my primary doctor wanted to put me on medications to combat all these issues. I refused them! She was stunned by my refusal. I told her that being a former athlete, I knew what I had to do in order to combat the problem, and she agreed to have me return to her office in one month for another blood draw to see if any improvements had been made. I knew at that time I had not been moving physically in a good eight years, and it was slowly killing me. I also knew if I started relying on all those drugs it would begin a slow cycle of my health deteriorating even further. That’s the easy way out for most people but not mine! The drugs may mask your problems, but won’t cure them, and that’s my take on the situation. I decided at that moment that I would eat better and start walking each day.
My first walk around the neighborhood circle was so difficult, I thought I’d die. I couldn’t believe that I had let myself get so terribly out of shape! My knees were killing me, and my breathing was off the charts. In spite of it all, I pushed myself to walk every evening after work, to the point the short walks turned easy. I returned to my active sports diet of food and drink that I follow while I used to train for competitions. Walking on the street seemed very boring to me, so I made a decision to start walking through the woods on trails. After purchasing a good pair of over-the-ankle hiking boots, which I kept in my work van, I would stop at a trail and walk every night after work, rain or shine. I also had to purchase a set of hiking poles to support and help balance me, as my balance was not good from the numb feet and legs. I moved faster and sucked wind harder each evening.
Well, my revisit to the doctor after just one month helped my numbers dramatically, but still needed more work. We made another appointment in a future three-month time period to once again check my numbers. I continued to hike, extending my distances slowly even though I had much back discomfort. I wore knee braces while I hiked, as my knees were giving me much discomfort. The more I hiked, the better I felt, and the stronger my legs and knees became. I moved faster and faster each day, timing myself to constantly push myself. My next doctor’s visit was good, and my hard work was paying off as the doctor had a hard time believing that I could overcome those bad numbers without the aid of drugs. This was great news as I had been doing more extreme hiking in an attempt to condition myself for an attempt to summit Mount Washington in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. I had been hiking smaller mountains on weekend days off, trying to prepare myself for this difficult climb. Finally, after I thought I was ready for the challenge, I departed my home one early morning and drove the four hours to get to the trail head. I