had my surgery last week. the sciatic pain i'd been experiencing for the past 6 months was gone the moment i woke up from anesthesia. i was taken aback by the abrupt change. the pain was almost becoming like a friend to me- albeit a friend i hated and had way overstayed his welcome, but a friend that was always there for me. it's been an interesting few days since. i've been rediscovering what it's like to sit, stand, walk and drive like a normal person. i hadn't been able to do any of the four without considerable pain since early may. my lower back where the surgeon opened me up is still raw and sore, but it's a trade-off i'll gladly take.
i realized that i've been on a steady diet of pain medications since early june. started off on vicodin and carisoprodol for a few weeks, then was switched to percocet in early july and have been subsisting on that since. there's been a few rounds of prednisone, flexeril, and diazepam interspersed here and there. my surgeon wants to taper me off the percocet over the next several weeks. i assume there will be withdrawal symptoms, but i look forward to having my right mind back. the last 5 months have been foggy, my short-term memory scrambled, and overall feels like my brain has been smeared with vasoline. i forgot what it's like to think clearly. i hope my appetite comes back when i'm off the meds. i've lost almost 30lbs since late june, and if you know me personally you know i can't afford to lose 30lbs. my only craving seems to be pears.
when i first started this blog, my intention was to add stories to my photos that i'd post on my website. up until my sciatic episode began in may, nearly every day after work and most of my weekends was spent in the hills and mountains around anchorage. my camera and one or two more lenses were always with me. often those hikes turned into adventures, and sometimes there was a story worth telling about how i made certain images or how i came upon whatever subject that was worth being captured with my camera. occasionally there was philosophical insight that came to me after trudging 1500 vertical feet with 15lbs of camera gear, just to snap a photo of a cloud or a flower. this was supposed to be the space that i shared those stories and insights on. it was never meant to be too personal or too much of a revelation about myself. i'm a private guy and keep to myself for the most part. now that i'm leaving alaska- whose scenery and wildlife was the reason i bought my first camera over 4 years ago- and am moving to one of the least beautiful places i've ever been, i expect that my photographic output is going to decline considerably. considering that i'm moving there to help my mom and my family after her aneurysm has left her in a coma, i don't expect to get out with my camera more than a couple times a month. what am i supposed to do with this space, then? and the website i'd spent four months constructing and customizing? i intend to change the title of my website to something that's not location specific, but so far i'm not putting forth much effort in to coming up with one. this blog will probably morph into a space where i'll leave my thoughts of adjusting to living back in the lower midwest and the experience of joining the rest of my family in caring for our mom/wife/grandma. helping mom back to being herself again is going to be a looooong and trying process. i'm sure i'll have a lot to say about it, and this will be the space that i'll do so. and if i'm lucky enough to get out and grab a couple new photos to include, that'll be gravy.
i marked a countdown of sorts on my calendar in my kitchen, counting down the days until i leave alaska. as of today (monday 11/7, and my sister holly's birthday) i have 21 days left here. soon after arriving in alaska 5 years and 1 day ago, i loved it enough that i assumed i'd stay here the rest of my life. i felt like i was finally in the place i was meant to be. now i have 21 days left, and much of that time will be spent slowly recovering from my surgery and packing up and moving out of my apartment. i'll be lucky to have recovered enough by the time i leave to go for one last short hike. i'm no longer bitter or resentful at the situation, but i'm still incredibly sad.
serendipitously enough, while going through a few drawers earlier today i found a short journal i'd kept when i first arrived in alaska. the first entry was written on my second night in alaska, 5 years ago today. there was a lot of excitement in my writing, and i was relieved to have finally left where i'd been living the 3+ years previous, and was lucky to have experienced such a beautiful drive and to be have one of my best friends here already. and now i'm leaving in 21 days.
i realized that i've been on a steady diet of pain medications since early june. started off on vicodin and carisoprodol for a few weeks, then was switched to percocet in early july and have been subsisting on that since. there's been a few rounds of prednisone, flexeril, and diazepam interspersed here and there. my surgeon wants to taper me off the percocet over the next several weeks. i assume there will be withdrawal symptoms, but i look forward to having my right mind back. the last 5 months have been foggy, my short-term memory scrambled, and overall feels like my brain has been smeared with vasoline. i forgot what it's like to think clearly. i hope my appetite comes back when i'm off the meds. i've lost almost 30lbs since late june, and if you know me personally you know i can't afford to lose 30lbs. my only craving seems to be pears.
when i first started this blog, my intention was to add stories to my photos that i'd post on my website. up until my sciatic episode began in may, nearly every day after work and most of my weekends was spent in the hills and mountains around anchorage. my camera and one or two more lenses were always with me. often those hikes turned into adventures, and sometimes there was a story worth telling about how i made certain images or how i came upon whatever subject that was worth being captured with my camera. occasionally there was philosophical insight that came to me after trudging 1500 vertical feet with 15lbs of camera gear, just to snap a photo of a cloud or a flower. this was supposed to be the space that i shared those stories and insights on. it was never meant to be too personal or too much of a revelation about myself. i'm a private guy and keep to myself for the most part. now that i'm leaving alaska- whose scenery and wildlife was the reason i bought my first camera over 4 years ago- and am moving to one of the least beautiful places i've ever been, i expect that my photographic output is going to decline considerably. considering that i'm moving there to help my mom and my family after her aneurysm has left her in a coma, i don't expect to get out with my camera more than a couple times a month. what am i supposed to do with this space, then? and the website i'd spent four months constructing and customizing? i intend to change the title of my website to something that's not location specific, but so far i'm not putting forth much effort in to coming up with one. this blog will probably morph into a space where i'll leave my thoughts of adjusting to living back in the lower midwest and the experience of joining the rest of my family in caring for our mom/wife/grandma. helping mom back to being herself again is going to be a looooong and trying process. i'm sure i'll have a lot to say about it, and this will be the space that i'll do so. and if i'm lucky enough to get out and grab a couple new photos to include, that'll be gravy.
i marked a countdown of sorts on my calendar in my kitchen, counting down the days until i leave alaska. as of today (monday 11/7, and my sister holly's birthday) i have 21 days left here. soon after arriving in alaska 5 years and 1 day ago, i loved it enough that i assumed i'd stay here the rest of my life. i felt like i was finally in the place i was meant to be. now i have 21 days left, and much of that time will be spent slowly recovering from my surgery and packing up and moving out of my apartment. i'll be lucky to have recovered enough by the time i leave to go for one last short hike. i'm no longer bitter or resentful at the situation, but i'm still incredibly sad.
serendipitously enough, while going through a few drawers earlier today i found a short journal i'd kept when i first arrived in alaska. the first entry was written on my second night in alaska, 5 years ago today. there was a lot of excitement in my writing, and i was relieved to have finally left where i'd been living the 3+ years previous, and was lucky to have experienced such a beautiful drive and to be have one of my best friends here already. and now i'm leaving in 21 days.
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