By Sandra Stoner-Mitchell
Climbing my Mountain
By Sandra Stoner Mitchell
After a year of pain, I was at last booked in to have a knee replacement. I had prepared myself mentally for the operation, believing I would soon be running around, pain-free again.
At seven o'clock in the morning, I was given an epidural in my spine to deaden all feeling in my lower body. This meant I would be conscious the whole time, and I wasn't too happy about that. I don't mind watching operations on television, but I didn't fancy listening to a blow by blow account regarding what was being done to my body!
The time arrived, and it wasn't long before I heard the electric saw cutting through my knee bones. It wasn't a nice sound, and I found myself gritting my teeth until it stopped. It was just after that I heard my surgeon swear, and I was immediately given an injection.
When I came around, I was back in the ward with Graham sitting beside me. We were told that after my knee had been removed, they discovered there wasn't a new knee to replace it. It took another two hours phoning around hospitals to find one my size, and altogether I was out for five hours, which sent my blood pressure down to a dangerous level. The knee was put in quickly and then my flesh stapled together.
All seemed well for the first two months after the operation, but then the pain started. No one would believe me, and it took almost a year before they had me back in to see what was going on. Apparently, when they opened it up again, they found a growth at the back of the new knee, and every time I bent my leg, it cut into the surrounding ligaments and caused a great deal of pain.
Of course, I heard nothing from them after I was sent home, and I certainly didn't want them touching me again.
Now it was up to me to strengthen the muscles around the new knee and to help me achieve it, I joined the local gym. This was no easy decision at my age. All those skinny girls in their lycra! But, once there, I found I wasn't the only 'oldie,' and I soon made loads of new friends.
This not only built up the strength in my leg, and my all-around fitness, but also helped me to climb Mount Vesuvius and look inside the crater when on holiday earlier this month. It was hard going and the sun was hot, but I did it! I was so proud. This trip was paid for by my son for my birthday, and we had an amazing time. There is a rumour going around that the mountain is due to erupt at any time, which wasn't encouraging, but fortunately, it didn't happen that day! I couldn't understand why so many people were living on the mountain, and some were building new homes. I wouldn't live within a hundred miles of it!
There isn't much to see when you look inside the crater, just dust. It's very deep though. What made it all worthwhile for me, apart from the achievement, was the view. It was a clear, very hot day, and we could see for miles. Simply beautiful.
After that, we travelled to Pompeii. That was a lifelong dream of mine, and now it was coming true. It is an amazing feeling to know you are walking in the footsteps of people who died hundreds of years ago. The artefacts they had unearthed in perfect condition were a wonder to see.
Although I knew I'd see the stone remains of those caught in the lava, I was amazed to see them placed inside glass cases and stored with the pots and ornaments they'd recovered, in one of the ruins. I mentioned this to our tour guide, as I thought they should be given more respect and perhaps lain to rest. I was told what we could see were actually plaster casts of the original people, and that their bodies had been given Christian burials.
It is sad to see how these people were crouched in all manner of positions as they died in the molten lava, but one that really hit home was that of a dog. He was laid on his back with his legs and paws bent to cover his face. That put a big lump in my throat.
What surprised me too, was they had soup kitchens for the poor, situated on the corners of some of the streets, with water holes for both them and the animals even in those days. It's nice to know that some of the good things in life haven't changed.
Well, by the time we arrived back at our apartment, my knee was still doing well. All those hours spent on the treadmill and lifting light weights obviously paid off. Would I have another knee replacement op? No! But I wouldn't want to put others off having the operation, because many come through it without the slightest problem.
| Author Notes |
That's Graham and me in the picture at the top of Mt Vesuvius, the big crater is behind us. Thank goodness it's not a close-up photo, my face was beetroot red after the long climb!
Artefacts - UK English spelling. |
By Sandra Stoner-Mitchell
~~oO~~
Hi everyone. I have been trying to write something witty about my painful holiday, but can't. I am sorry I haven't managed to do much in the way of reviewing, I just can't keep my concentration at the moment. The pain in my knee has increased so much, I have been at screaming point sometimes. We spent most of our two-week holiday in the apartment, only going down to the restaurant to eat.
This isn't a cry for sympathy, I know a lot of you have and are going through worse, but my head is in a bit of a fog through the medication I am now on which makes it hard to review and write. (hence all the grammar errors!!)
My new knee operation is happening on the 9th November, and I am in a bit of a quandary about that too. I want it desperately, but having had the operation to replace my knee eighteen months ago, I am not full of confidence. For those of you who do not know the story, this is a brief explanation.
It was the morning of the op, (June 8th 2014) I was given a spinal injection, which kept me fully awake whilst my lower part from my hips to my toes, were 'paralyzed'. It was a bit nerve wracking to say the least. I heard everything, the saw, the hammer, the swearing... The knee was out, but they didn't have the new one to put in. I was then put out fully.
When I came round, it was five and a half hours from the beginning of my operation. It took them over two hours of phoning different hospitals to find a knee to fit me. I think they rushed the final part of my operation because my blood pressure had dropped dangerously low, and they needed to bring me round. I don't know much about that part, but I do know my knee has not been right ever since. At last, they are admitting something is really not right, and they are going to cut my knee open again and go in and hopefully fix it. I just hope they do it right this time.
So, my friends, please don't think I am ignoring all of you, I will try and review when I can, that is when my head is clear enough to read. As for writing, well, after reading the state of this, you will probably be pleased you aren't being subjected to anymore bad writing! LOL. xxxxx
~~oOo~~
By Sandra Stoner-Mitchell
Hi everyone, this is just to let you know I've been on holiday, and still am, until next weekend. I'm in Italy, having a wonderful time, all on my eldest son for my birthday later this month! Love him to bits!!! We went to Pompeii yesterday and I climbed to the top of Mount Vesuvius, amazing views but mostly I was so proud of myself for managing it. I'll tell you all about it when I come home.
I really wanted to let you know so you'll understand why I haven't been reviewing or posting but will catch up when I get back.
Can't say I miss you, LOL, having too much fun!!! Please don't worry about reviewing, it's just the easiest way to let you all know what's happening. Big hugs to you all, xxx
Love you all lots. Sandra xxx
By Sandra Stoner-Mitchell
I suppose you could say I've had a 'varied' life. Not exactly exciting, but eventful. At the age of eighteen, a friend and I went to Zurich, Switzerland, as breakfast chefs. We had to get up at 4:00 a.m. to make the muesli. The job only lasted six months for reasons I will write about another time, but because we didn't stay the complete year we were fined all our wages and sent on our way. The only way home was to hitch-hike. It was an incredible journey home, though.
I married at 23, but my husband died of lung cancer just before our 17th anniversary. Our children were 12 and 15 years old. It was a very painful time. My sons kept me going, and between us, we came through. I am proud to say that they turned out to be wonderful fathers to my precious grandchildren.
I met my second husband after my sons were working. My youngest has his own company, and my eldest is a managing director in another company. They approved of Graham and were delighted when we got married. Probably relieved they didn't have to worry about the old dear in her dotage!
Graham and I moved to Spain and enjoyed eleven years there. I learnt and taught Spanish, and made some incredible friends. It was another experience, both happy and sad, as we watched eleven of our friends die of cancer. Finally, when a couple we met and became friends with soon after arriving in Spain both died of skin cancer, I decided it was time to return to England.
That's the glossed-over version and you can probably guess by now, I have joined this club to help me with the dreaded comma!
| Author Notes | I will write about my experiences of hitch-hiking through Europe to come home, later, to go into my memory book for my two sons. |
By Sandra Stoner-Mitchell
Being on FanStory has taught me a lot about people’s faith in God. I read the poem that Helen wrote after her father had been laid to rest. It made me think back nearly forty years to the time my late husband lay next to me in bed, dying of cancer. I selfishly thought of myself. Me!
What would I do without him? How could I bring my two boys up on my own? Why MY husband? He was so young with so much to live for? I was losing the man I loved so much. Why? Why not one of those scumbags out there?
I was scared, I’d never been in a position like this before. There had always been someone to take the responsibility away from me. Show me what to do, or help me by doing it for me.
I was angry, so cross that God would take my husband instead of the evil ones that walked the earth. Oh, how angry I was. The more questions I had, the angrier I got. I never received an answer. Even when I pleaded with Him.
It was then I answered the question myself. It was because I was so selfish! I was being tested in the cruelest way, and I'd failed! That had to be the answer. All the time I begged God not to take my husband, I never once asked Him to take me instead. I didn’t want to die, I didn’t want to leave my boys. I was so selfish, I broke one of God’s commandments. Even now, all these years after Brian died, I still can’t forgive myself for that sin.
When I was told there was nothing more the doctors could do for Brian and he could come home, I sat down with my boys to tell them what was happening with their dad, that Jesus was coming to take their daddy home to God because He needed him. It was the hardest, most painful thing I’d ever done. And that hasn’t changed. Seeing their faces, their eyes on me, as if waiting for me to tell them it wasn’t true, but all the time knowing it was. Then to see the acceptance. That was hard. Bless their hearts, it broke my heart to see them this way. That Brian wouldn’t be there to see them through school, help them with homework, wouldn’t see them get married, see his grandchildren… My anger grew so much, I was bursting.
My husband was buried on December the seventh, a cold, damp day, so close to Christmas. What sort of Christmas would they have? They should have their dad with them, sharing their delight. We stayed at my parents home that time, and they put on a Christmas that was lovely for my boys. But behind their smiling faces, I saw their sadness, their question, why isn’t dad here?
A few days after Brian had been buried, the vicar came to see me, and he told me things I’d not thought of. God had been beside me all through Brian’s illness, He’d sat beside me as I’d tried to explain it to my boys, He’d given me the strength to carry on, to bring my sons up on my own. Except, I wasn’t on my own. God stayed with me the whole way, patiently taking all my anger onto Himself, and waiting.
Time passed, my boys grew up to become the amazing sons, fathers, and the incredible men they are today. My love and pride in them is endless.
It took a while before I stopped being angry with God. But even as I write this, I realise my belief in Him was always there. You can’t be angry with something that doesn’t exist. That in itself gives me comfort.
Faith comes in many forms, but that doesn't matter. God isn’t a religion, He just Is. I believe in Him, I have faith in Him. Pure and simple.
|
You've read it - now go back to FanStory.com to comment on each chapter and show your thanks to the author! |
| © Copyright 2015 Sandra Stoner-Mitchell All rights reserved. Sandra Stoner-Mitchell has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |
© 2015 FanStory.com, Inc. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Statement