I was very thankful that I didn?t have to stay in intensive care this time around.  The surroundings were more comfortable, even though the room was rather small.

 My dad had been having trouble finding a place to sleep.  During my first surgery, I?d been in Sacramento, so Dad could go home and sleep and mom could stay, and visa-versa.  This time, we were too far away to do that.  My parents had to stick around the hospital the whole time; my dad didn?t want to bother his parents in Castro Valley.

 The family had come for a while as well.  My cousin Shawn, his wife Sara, my Uncle Mike and Aunt Sue, and my grandparents had come.  I had my aunt poke Shawn many times; I can be easily amused at times.  Later, my Aunt Debbie stopped by and talked to me for a while.  I was beginning to see how these surgeries were affecting them.  They seemed bitter about the things that have had to happen to me, and were worried.  I understand their feelings now, because I constantly worry about some close people in my life who are having health problems.

 Through all of my drowsiness, I was able to start moving again with the physical therapists, and watch movies.  One that I actually stayed awake for was The Sixth Sense.  It wasn?t necessarily scary, but it had an excellent plot and had some thrilling parts.

 A few days later, after being passed, we left.  Going home in the van was painful; I could feel every bump and dent in the road.  For three hours, I wined in pain and tried to move around on the back seats to make myself more comfortable.  I was very relieved when we finally got there, and I was able to sit down on the couch.  I had been dragged up the stairs, using my parents as crutches.  I?d wondered if anyone on the street had noticed as I made my way up the walk.

 Alidia came that day to visit me. She?d come in with lots of energy as always, and chatted with me.  My mom took some pictures of us.  I took some medicine, and made myself more comfortable on the couch as she went on with the conversation.

 For about a week, my daily schedule revolved around the TV and physical therapy.  Unlike my previous experience, I would have to go through lots of physical therapy to get the part that was operated on moving.  When the rod was put in my back, there was no need for it, because the fact remained that with the metal in there I would never be able to move that part of my back again.

  I would always take some Tylenol before the lady came to the house.  She?d have me do several little exercises, then measured how far I could bend my leg.  At this point I was pretty weak; it was hard to lift my leg at all.
 
 
 
 

  I could tell that people were worried about me: I got many cards, presents, and calls from friends and families alike.  I?d noticed that some seemed bitter for me.  I mirrored their emotions.  I felt bad for being bitter because it seemed selfish.  There were people out there dying of far worse, and I was wallowing in my own misery.  There were recovered patients full of life, and thanking everything and everyone, and my mind was simply saying that none of it should?ve happened in the first place.

 I met my tutor soon.  He?d actually wanted to see me in the hospital, but that wouldn?t have worked.  He called and asked for directions, then came to talk about what he was going to do.  I?d found that catching with this teacher was more like independent study, which was good and bad at the same time.  It was good because I could pace things and I had more control, but it was also bad in that I was on my own.  He couldn?t explain things very well.  For a while I only did two subjects between every visitation; I couldn?t concentrate well.  My meetings with him were long and seemingly boring; he reminded me of Mr. Rogers.

Throughout my time with him, I gradually got better, and ended up scrambling to get things done towards the end of the school year.  The highlight of it all had been my choir assignment.  I learned the music on my own with my keyboard and a CD of what the entire group should sound like.  I still had bad grades in Algebra, but I didn?t want to take it over again.  I worked hard until the fourth to last day, then finally I was done.  From that day, I decided to visit the school a few times, and see my friends again.  Those last few days I walked around the school getting people to sign my yearbook, it was the greatest feeling to be around peers again. There were times that I never would?ve thought it possible.

Summer was hard to get through.  I spent most of the time alone, and still had to deal with physical therapists.  Despite this, I did have my fun days with family and friends, and learned more about people personally and generally.

Surgery is most defiantly a life altering experience.  Through it, I believe, you began to realize some things most among you don?t.  Some things that are difficult to describe.  I suppose that the biggest thing that is learned is simply that you are mortal.  While most my age believe that they are invincible and act more outgoing, I shy away from daring things because I see what is at stake.  Always, there will be something inside he that mentally makes me different from the average person. Not necissarily good nor bad; simply different. It is both my savior and damnation.

Where I go on from here, who knows? My life direction depends fully on my decisions, and whatever experiances may come my way. Hopefully, I'll stay away from operations, though I'll understand that it could happen again. No matter how hard one tries, you're never in full control of what happens, and though that's a scary thought it's something that needs to be understood.