Helicopters and aeroplanes

I tend to use a lot of metaphors in what I write. As I have gotten older, everything seems to mean something more if you put your mind to it.

I was reminded of a childhood experience I had when I was about 6 or 7. My great aunt Eva Lou was in California for a week or two. My dad and her had hit off like gangbusters when they first met. He had planned a surprise for her and all of us, and had his pilot friend bring a helicopter to the field next to our house.

The pilot took each and everyone of us up individually and did an air tour of the area around my parents house. I was one of the last ones to go.

He took me up on the helicopter and we flew over the river, Tracy, Manteca, my parents house then went back to land.

It wasn't the fly that stuck in my memory, it was the landing. The pilot let me take control of the helicopter when we were close to the ground and helped me land it. It wasn't as easy as I thought it would have been...

You have to land exactly right or you will have a rough landing. He had me move the plane up and down feet from the ground trying to get it perfect. Every time seemed scary and frustrating to me until finally I landed it just right. It was exhilarating feeling like I was in control of something so big.

It reminds me of the things after that incident that made me feel so small at the time, but once I accomplished them, I felt like I could do anything with my life. It doesn't matter if it is cancer, death, some other illness, or something much more simple than that... It matters that you conquered it and figured out your own way to do things, make things work for you in your own favor...

Think things through and land that plane steady and smooth, or make a rough landing for yourself and hope everything turns out OK... 

Life is what you make it... you better make it good... you only get one chance...

The beginning of something new...

Year 4... I can't believe it has been that long... This is kind of a continuation from the previous blog...

4 years ago this week I had the hardest day of my entire life... I don't think I will have any day harder than it...

What do you do when you have to choose between your leg and your life? I was hesitant...

The weeks preceding this life altering day was... well... confusing...

I was extremely defiant to getting rid of my leg at first. But I thought about it more and more... recovery time, rehab, pain, the chance of cancer coming back was just too much to imagine...

I recall a young man talking very directly to me about the pros of my situation... my life was such a blur I can barely recall who he was... but I knew he knew what I was about to go through... and he was right... my leg had to go...

I don't really recall the night before... I do remember sleeping much more well than I expected...

The worst part of this whole day was the waiting... waiting in the waiting room... waiting in pre op... waiting on the surgery table...

I remember walking (insisting on walking) to the pre- op room knowing these were going to be my last steps on my left leg... I wanted to savor every second of it and remember every feeling and sensation I had...

I had to be by myself at first in the room which was line up with people (mostly older and decaying) waiting for surgery. Some people were just coming back from surgery and were very out of it... and very emotional, either anger or crying... not sure why anesthesia only brings out these emotions...

I took off everything... everything that was me... my favorite necklace, all of my clothing, stripping me down to nothing... a precursor, I felt, to how I was going to feel after all this was done... naked... defiled... maimed... disfigured...

I then had to put on those god awful shit brown grippy socks they make you wear that barely stay on your feet... the last thing that would ever be on my left foot... most likely why I have a negative feeling whenever I see them...

The nurse that was going to take care of me obviously had no idea why I was there... I am sure she was regretful when she asked...

Big happy smile on her face, pleasant woman, reminded me of one of my aunts... "So what are you getting done today?' she says with a smile on her face that was meant to be comforting...

How the hell am I suppose to answer? I can barely keep it together... I have been good all day and not cried once...

I clenched my teeth, then relaxed my jaw and answered with as much composure I could muster... "My leg is being amputated today..."

The smile on her face went away and tears started streaming down my face... the only thing she could say was "You are my daughters age" She gave me a hug, assured me she would be there when I got out of surgery, and then she never came to my bedside again...

That encounter has always bothered me... was she too upset by it? was she just busy with other patients? I guess I will never know...

My dad stayed by my bedside until they took me away... everyone came in and out to wish me luck and he stayed with me the whole time... The second he hugged me and walked away I couldn't stop crying... it was real... this was happening... I am never going to be the same again...

As I am brought into the cold surgery room, I am told to curl into a ball so they can start the epidural. I cling to my knee and look at my other leg, frantically wiggling my toes, knowing I will never see that leg again... Holding back tears... The numbness takes over and I know at that moment I will never feel that leg again...

They lay me back and cover my body with blankets. They insert the extensions where your arms rest into the surgery bed which make it form some sort of unholy cross. They strap my arms in, I have this heinous thought that I am about to be tortured by some evil doctor. I can see them lifting my leg and covering it with orange iodine, getting the tourniquet ready, and started going over the technicalities...

I am still awake..."Courtney Wilson, amputation of the left leg...." there are so many things are rushing in my head... These words, as simple as they may be separate from each other have formed this huge ominous storm cloud over my head... it impossible to hold back tears... I am incapable of moving so I can't even brush the waterfall of tears coming down my face, as hard as I may try...

The nurse next to me sees that I am awake and crying asks for me to be put under... she takes off her sterile glove, touches my face, and wipes my tears away... I can't bear to meet her gaze in fear of crying even more...

That's the last thing I remember...And I will never forget it...

Reflection

Courtney Dawn Photography

Looking back on things doesn't necessarily mean that you are regretful or sad about the occurrences in your life...

That being said I seem to look back a lot on my life... not out of nostalgia.... not out of regret... nor out of sadness... but out of reflection...

If one thing wouldn't have happened then another thing may have been different... and with that I can be thankful things came out the way they were... they may not seem ideal to most people but I am happy... 

I guess I can't say it enough sometimes... but I am happy now because I knew where I was 4 years ago today...

I had just celebrated my 22nd birthday with all of my friends. I came home for the weekend because I was interning in San Francisco. I had just had surgery a few weeks before on my leg to remove the screws from my leg that were pushing out. 

I headed to the pharmacy in Manteca after having lunch with my boyfriend at the time. Normal occurrence with few people at the pharmacy. I was wearing a brace at the time. A man that parked in the handicap spot next to me said "ACL?" I wasn't in the mood for having the "I had cancer" conversation so I said "no"... probably rudely but I didn't care...

I walked into the pharmacy and am about to get in line when I get a call from my surgeon. 

"Courtney, how are you feeling?" 

I feel optimistic about the recent surgery so I reply "I feel good! The pain in my leg isn't that bad and I seem to be healing well. How are you?"

"I am doing well thanks for asking. I wanted to talk to you about how the surgery went."

"I think it went pretty well don't you think?"

His voice gets softer and slightly more serious... I feel a huge weight hit my chest like someone threw an anvil at me.

"Courtney, when we took out the screws remember I said they just fell out right when I opened your leg up? Well I did some routine tests just to be sure... the Sarcoma is back and it is in your tendon now."

I am standing in the middle of this swarm of people in this god forsaken hospital by myself and I am being told that I am 22 fucking years old and I have cancer... again...

At this point it has not sunk in yet completely so I reply "Well I am at the hospital. Can you order labs for me so I can just get it done while I am here?"

He seems a little jarred by my response but he complies and then asks "Should I call your mom or do you want me to?"

Immediately I know I can't stand to hear her voice hearing her daughter has cancer again... "Please tell her for me... I don't think I can do it." 

"OK, it will be alright. We will take care of this. Your labs will be ordered soon."

I don't even bother getting my prescription. I just walk back to my car and sit in the drivers seat sideways with the door open. I couldn't hold my disbelief back anymore and the tears start coming. The man who had asked about my knee before is now looking at me with concern. I can only imagine he thinks that he said something wrong and that is why I am crying.

I stay in the car for a while and then drag myself to the labs. Hoping no one talks to me about anything that will make me cry. As I am sitting there getting my blood taken I am just thinking that no one even knows that anything is wrong with me yet... I have to have this awful "I have cancer" conversation with friends and family again... how am I going to go through this again... I know the statistics about re - occurring osteosarcoma and they are not on my side...

What is going to happen with my life? What is going to happen with my leg? Will I live... or will I die?

God only knows...

Six is my lucky number

Courtney Dawn Photography

Six years ago today I lost a piece of my body, lost my sense of security.... lost my mobility that would not return until three years later when I saw these screws again outside of my body...

They may look like pieces of torture but they are the things, to put it simply, that saved my life...

Three years after having half my tibia, all of my knee and part of my femur removed and replaced to get rid of the cancer, it came back...

The only way I found out... and would have found out for quite some time without it... was these four pieces of surgical steel...

The tumor just happened to be right underneath where these were... just happened to start pushing them out... just happened to cause me more pain... and I just happened to be in San Francisco interning when I needed surgery from my San Francisco surgeon...

Kind of makes me feel like I am suppose to do something important in life... because all these things don't "just happen"...

So ask yourself this... do you believe in coincidences? Do you believe that things just happen for no reason whatsoever? Or should you open up to the opportunities that come before you? Should you try not to be scared and head to that trip that may take your life in a completely different direction? Should you take risks knowing things may pan out or may not.... knowing that you may hit a dead end but you still tried?

The people I most admire take risks... they put themselves out there and grab on to whatever life has in store for them... I try and emulate them every day with everything I do, reminding myself that it's worth trying because it may be a new avenue in life that is exciting and prosperous...

And if it isn't?? OH WELL! You can say you tried...

Where is this going? You tell me... is it a coincidence you are reading this right now? Or does everything happen for a reason?