Thanks be to God, I a am a Man.

This post will jump around a little as far as the timeline of the story, but it ties together, and I hope it portrays what is in my heart.  We truly don't go through any fight or hardship alone.  I was blessed with support and friendships in many unique places.  I had completed my first full week in rehab, and was looking forward to starting my second.  All of the sudden I began to have debilitating spasms in my back.  All night Saturday they would hit and I would have to call the nurse to help me sit up, just to be able to get a breath. All day Sunday I was laid up and couldn't hardly get out of bed. The next thing I knew, I was laying over my bed table sweating profusely, doing everything I could to get a breath.  It felt like I had a knife being slammed and twisted into my right side.  The spasm continued for over six hours straight without relaxing at all.  Until that point a spasm would last a minute or two and I would be fine.  

Not happening, my back locked up, and I couldn't get a breath for that entire six hours.  The pool of sweat dripping onto the floor was now making the nurses anxious and worried.  The nurses would try to help me lay down to change positions, all that did was drive the knife in deeper, and take the little gasp of a breath I could get away instantly.  The charge nurse and three others were in and out of my room this entire time.  They called the doctor, who actually never came to my room, but that is a story for in-person if you ever want to ask.  The nurses were amazing and finally were given permission to give me some, we will call it Happy Juice.  Which finally after 30 minutes eased the spasm enough, I was able to lay down and get a little rest.

I'm telling you, I will never discredit a woman complaining of labor pains, that was way too close to a contraction that I ever want to experience.  God knew what he was doing when he made me a man.  He knew I am too much of a sissy, and could never handle any sort of female esk problem.

Monday morning during Physical Therapy, things were rough.  Every exercise that I was required to lay on my back, ended up in a no-go situation.  I got back to my room for a break, asked the nurse to assist me to my bed so I could sit on the edge and stretch at the same time.  Slam, I was hit with another spasm, it was all I could do to reach for the nurse call button.  I was in desperate need of more happy juice.  The spasms continued throughout the week.  That night I was hit again, the nurse that night called and asked to be able to get me some "really happy juice."  They were given permission to give me an injection in the butt.  I was never more glad to bear and get stabbed.  

This same scenario started the next night.  I was familiar with the medication and how it is administered.  I was in so much pain, I asked if the nurse would administer an IV dose.  The nurse called the doctor and asked.  No was the answer that came.  "In the muscle or oral last longer."  Was the response that returned.  I again became very un Christ-like.  "I am not an idiot, I know how the drug works.  It is drawn out of the same vial.  They say IM lasts longer because it takes that extra twenty minutes to metabolize, whereas IV is instant."

The nurse had no comeback, left the room and again returned with the charge nurse.  They were amazing, they charted that the injection was given IM, but in reality were awesome and administered it IV, so that I could get some relief faster and try and get some rest.

Several of the nurses that cared for me during this week of hell, had become pretty good friends.  One of which, had that Thursday off, but came in to check on me while in therapy, and had brought flowers for my room.  The awesome part about her being my nurse, her son was my nurse while in acute care immediately after the first brain surgery.  I later learned that three other nurses came into the hospital on their days off to check to see if I was doing any better.  Then the next week, when I was rushed off for the second brain surgery, several of the nurses and medical team came upstairs to check on me.

That first day back in rehab after my hiatus, this sweet nurse who brought me flowers before was my nurse again.  She greeted me with a big hug and rushed to tell the others nurses I had been re admitted.  The next day as I was eating lunch, I found more flowers and a homemade wall decoration which says "We can do hard things."

Over the next few days, I was greeted with hugs and infectious smiles, and genuine expressions of excitement, that I had returned.  

One of the most impressive expressions of encouragement and support came from a friend I made while on the rehab floor.  His story is yet to come. 

My goal with this post is to share encouragement, and to be that genuine, sincere smile and expression of gratitude.  Reach out to others even with a smile or hug.  Positivity begets positivity, just like winning begets winning.  

- Nate Taylor