The Fragile Spine: The Gardener's Nemesis

I'm baaaaack and feeling better than the last time I was here. Who knew that what this girl needed was a quick back surgery?

I certainly didn't see that one coming!

It all started just after I walked to see my ill friend in my last post. I'd seen my doctor the day before and she'd scheduled an MRI for me. That Friday I went in, had the scan done, and then we waited until Monday. At the worst, I was expecting a cortisone shot or some pain medications and rest. But then she called and told me I needed to see a neurosurgeon. Wha!?! She explained that the scan showed some bulging and other irregularities and she hoped I could get in to see the specialist soon.

I waited through another long weekend. I'd made an appointment for early Monday morning and honestly I was curious about what was going on. By then I was experiencing constant pain, numbness and a pins and needles sensation in my left arm. The pain was making me miserable so I stayed away from blogging. Instead, I worked on the garden even though I was hurting so badly. It kept me busy and I did see some great results. (More on that in another post.) Maybe it wasn't the wisest decision, but it helped with my worry too.

Dranunculus vulgaris looking lovely this year. 

Now, all gardeners know back pain, am I right? It's just what happens to us after hauling, digging, and sifting through the dirt. The pain is our Badge of Courage. We're proud of our backs.

My back has been a wreck for a long time and I honestly cannot recall when it all began. What I can say is that it's been getting worse and worse for the past few years and working outside has been exhausting for me.

The pain begins and I'm simply spent. I retreat indoors in defeat.

The front garden is partially a riot of color right now and I'm sort of in love with it. 

Since my relationship with pain is rather complicated I didn't really know if what I was going through was a problem or not. I blamed my swelling disease. I blamed falling down the stairs. I nursed it as best as I could but I just decided at some point that sometimes my back hurt—a lot.

I found this Magnolia grandiflora 'Bracken's Brown Beauty' bloom in my garden the day of my surgery. It's my first and I'm a proud Mama.

I also have high pain tolerance and that's become detrimental, hence, back surgery. This past year I've been more regularly declaring my back issues to my doctor and she seemed to agree that as long as I walked and stayed active it would cause less pain. I thought I'd been keeping it honest so-to-speak but I guess I still didn't describe my experience as accurately as I could have but I didn't stay silent either. I tried. I honestly tried.

Even when I did these preventative measure though, they didn't work. Or, I should say, over time they stopped working for me altogether. Things just kept feeling worse. 

Lovely Begonia leaf.

Pain is already part of my chronic illness condition. Swelling causes pain. I know that type of pain though and it's lessened a lot since I was prescribed my new medication several years ago.

The back pain I felt—especially after returning from Italy—was different. I could barely stand up and I just wanted to cry. It was excruciating. Thinking things through, this sort of explained the urgency, but I still didn't really understand what was wrong with me and how it had happened.

Lovely Bletilla striata about to open. 

On Monday the neurosurgeon examined me, then we looked at my scans together. When I saw my spinal cord being pinched by a collapsed spinal canal, I nearly jumped out of my seat. It was clear that my spinal cord wasn't happy and the herniation caused by the narrowing in the spinal column explained the pinching pain when I moved my head. And of course, the pressure from this was pinching my nerve.

Ok, I got it. So I looked at him and said, "What do we do about it?"

Lathyrus sativus azureus. 

"Well, I recommend surgery," he said.

I'd expected a cortisone shot and this far exceeded my expectations. I was surprisingly both shocked and thrilled. Then I wondered how much longer I'd have to wait. I've never heard of anyone getting back surgery quickly. I just did not think it was possible. 

"How soon will this happen?" I asked. 

"Right away," he said and we walked down the hall to make the appointment at the front desk.

I was ecstatic when I found out I'd only have to wait 7 more days. 

The front garden on the day of surgery. John and I both laughed at the lone orange lily in the boxwood hedge. 

Well it's true, "Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition."

I had one week to prepare for 1 month of little to no upper body physical activity. For a gardener in the month of June this isn't exactly easy when you're the primary gardener in the household. I'm working hard to recover quickly though. I can begin going on nice walks again soon and I'll focus on that first.

Many of my garden plans for this summer had to be folded up and put away but I didn't mind. I've never been so desperate to feel better and I was truly at the end of my rope.

Flowers John bought from Quinn in the City Flowers. These were just what I needed during my overnight stay in the hospital. 

It's not completely clear to me when the debilitating pain began, but I suspect that when I fell down the stairs in the front of my house nearly 3 years ago I seriously hurt my back. At the time I was more concerned about my swollen ankle. Weeks later I discovered after the Fling in Seattle I'd broken two fingers too but I continued to believe that my back pain was only temporary and I chose not to have it examined.

The injury lingered and remained consistent throughout the divorce and remarriage. While working as a caregiver, it made my job impossible at times. I ended up quitting because of it.

 A box of trial plants from Terra Nova Nurseries arrived the day I came home from the hospital. It felt a bit like Christmas.

Ok, so what's the takeaway? 

Honestly, I just want everyone to take care of themselves and to use caution when they're walking. I might be a klutz, but all it takes is some uneven ground and an unsteady gait. What I've also learned from this is that when I fell and broke my tailbone and two vertebrae many years ago, it's likely I caused light nerve damage in my legs and feet. This is likely how my balance has worsened along with my gait. 

This is what a Posterior Cervical Laminectomy looks like a week after surgery. 

I'm fully committed now to returning to the gym to improve my life. I can't keep this up. I don't want to live like this anymore. 

My nurse often sleeps on the job but he's been with me 24/7 this past week. 

There is no nerve pain currently in my left arm and my fingers are no longer numb. I can tip my head back to look at the ceiling and there's no stabbing pain from the pinched herniation. I've been dealing with that sensation for years and I won't miss it at all. 

My view from bed could be worse. 

These things take time to heal, and seeds of change must be planted, so as I lie here in bed, I'm just reading gardening and plant books. This is a nice time to reflect on the past and while moving forward to a healthier and brighter future.

I'm so excited.

My life just keeps getting better and better. I'm so thankful. I just cannot say that enough.

St. Expeditus. 

A good friend of mine returned home for a visit to New Orleans before we knew about the surgery and she didn't return to Portland until after it had happened. So, she bought me this statue of St. Expeditus while she was there as a souvenir. Seeing as he's the patron saint of emergencies and expeditious solutions he's more than welcome to look over my garden and I until I'm well again.

So far, I think he's doing a great job, don't you?

Emerging Anew: Budding and Reblooming (The cycle never seems to end.)

The blog has been largely quiet for the last few months as I've been reentering and reshaping my life. What's nice to know, at least for my own sake, is that this blog is not going to go away anytime soon. As hokey as it sounds—like me, or even you—it's just going to continue to grow and change.

Rhododendron hybrid at the Espy House in Oysterville, WA. 

I want to grow and change. I want to be like my formerly feral cat who's grown to trust me more and more. For this love she's shown me, I fixed her fence again about a month ago. I'm not going to say that she does the dishes now, but she's quite happy with the respect I've shown her.

Currently I'm seeing so many things again as if for the first time and part of what's kept me away from my typically long and meandering posts has been a reticence to describe my new life because it is taking time for me to watch it as it unfurls.

Vine Maple (Acer circinatum). 

I'm emerging too and with the amount of restorative exercise I've been doing I'm looking like myself again. One cannot describe how much illness changes you inside as you suffer through the pain. In my case, I struggled for years on my own.

Though I'm better now, and so much stronger physically, for the last few months I've had to continue battling Hereditary Angiodema while at the same time accepting the fact that two falls down staircases have caused some serious damage to my back and neck. It is difficult to accept that I didn't seek the help I needed at the time I needed it. Daily I'm reminded of this, and daily I'm learning to think about it differently while acknowledging I did the best that I could at that time. I needed help though in my daily life, and I needed a lot of support. Accepting that I still do, and that I need to ask for it from now on, is something I see now as an immediate need as I better define what living with dignity means to me.

With allergies and food intolerances it's been difficult for years to eat but I've taken charge of that too. Having spent a lot of time with a Scandinavian friend with similar issues helped me a lot last year. Sometimes we cooked for one another too. It really helped me to rebuild my confidence and as my health has improved I've had more endurance in that arena too. Cooking is a big part of who I am.

A shrimp and basil casserole I made with a recipe from the island of Elba. It has tomatoes and potatoes too and that's just about it. 

Handmade cannoli I made for my boyfriend's birthday. Yes, I even made my own shells too. 

My online seed shop has recently been remodeled and cleaned up a bit too. I've been working on many other responsibilities as well. Highlights of my days include moments when I can sneak outside to discover new blooms on my old garden friends.

Slowly, I'm weeding the garden back into shape. Last year I didn't work outside much at all. It was simply too painful. This year, I am trying really hard to take my garden back.

Iris fiorentina. 

There are the new-to-me flowers too. Even if I've seen them a million times in print or online, seeing them up close and in person makes such a difference. I've been visiting friends' gardens more and more and I love it when I'm surprised by what I can only call "new material".

Sparaxis tricolor. 

The classics have been comforting me this spring. After years of living with great stress and uncertainty I'm finally calm enough to really soak up and appreciate their beauty.

Tulip hybrid in the company of a peony. 

The return of my green rose has brought me great comfort and gardener pride. With the high temperatures we've been having it's blooming early this year.

Their black pepper scent was much missed.

Rosa viridiflora. 

With a return to the kitchen, I've become interested again in cooking with herbs and other plants. I've been wanting to raid my neighbor's calendula for years and this is finally the year for me to do it. Have you cooked with Calendula before? Just curious.

Calendula officinalis.

Lastly, I've been returning to my roots and have been enjoying the natural beauty of the region I live in once more. There is so much meaning in everything I see and do now after so many years of struggling personally, professionally, and in my private life. Sometimes I wish that this process could speed up and end but in order to grow, I see clearly now that this takes time and care. I must tend to myself first and then to my garden. In the end, we'll all be much stronger and more disease and pest resistant.

Oh, and I'm getting really excited now about being part of a presentation—along with some other garden blogging friends—on June 8th out at Joy Creek Nursery. Should be fun to really think about the topic of garden blogging over the next few weeks.

Silver Falls State Park: Returning to the Wilderness

Yesterday, for the first time in over a decade, I returned to the Oregon woods by going for an 8-mile hike in Silver Falls State Park. It was my first significant long-distance hike in a long time and it went so well that I'm excited to think I'll be able to delve deeper into more remote areas of my region as time goes on and my health and strength continue to improve. I very much want to re-enter the wilderness areas that so captivated and inspired me as a young girl to become the free spirit I am today.

North Falls, part of the Trail of Ten Falls.

When I became seriously ill, the first thing I reached for was plant-life. Gardening was for me my way out of an excruciatingly painful situation that destroyed me. Once I finally had accepted that I'd lost my fight and had to live with what was chronically (daily) occurring inside of my own body I had to let go of many things I held near and dear to my heart. In just a single plant I saw the freedom of the wilderness I was raised to believe in as both an Oregonian and descendant of many pioneers. Gardening then continued to help me as I rebuilt and grew back to who I am today. 

So, yesterday I drove far away from my garden (the place that has been my safety zone for so long), and I went back to feel the source that bound me together during the most difficult period of my life. As my senses took it all in, that sensation of being calm and at home took over. I walked right in the front door and didn't look back until I was finished and it was time to return to Portland.

(Following are some of the 10 waterfalls from the Trail of Ten Falls and some native plants too.)

South Falls.

Lower South Falls.

Vine Maple (Acer circinatum).

Western Maidenhair Fern, (Adiantum aleuticum).

Vine maples in the woods in autumn.

Piggy-back Plant, (Tolmiea menziesii). 

Lower North Falls.

Double Falls. 

Middle North Falls.

(Not one of the named falls. Just a bonus.)

North Falls.

North Falls with native Licorice Ferns (Polypodium glycyrrhiza).

Rattlesnake Plantain—a native orchid of the PNW, (Goodyera oblongifolia).

A Few Blooms of Summer and the Plant Path Ahead

As summer begins to wind down here in the Pacific Northwest (and we enter into my favorite time of year), I thought it might be a nice time to review a few beautiful blooms of summer.

Many of these images are older ones—so forgive me if you've seen them before somewhere on here.

Love-in-a-mist after it's finished blooming (Nigella damascena).

The traditional school year begins soon. Maybe you've noticed all of the back-to-school fanfare and hoopla whenever you go shopping? I know I walk into stores wondering what back-to-school plants look like but I'm still not sure.

(Let me know if you have a clue. Somebody must have marketed something for just this occasion. I just know it.)

California Poppy, (Eschscholzia californica).

So, maybe this might be a good time to mention that I've finally taken into consideration how many folks I've been chatting with recently who've mentioned that I should stop acting like such an amateur and admit to the fact that maybe I could grow beyond where I've been making circles in the dirt with my fingers. (This is how I perceive their thoughts on the subject. I may have filtered their comments through some rather large tumblers of gin and tonic this past weekend so I'm a bit fuzzy on exactly what they said, but I got the gist of it.)

Large-leaved Lupine, (Lupinus polyphyllus). 

Ok, darling friends of mine, you win (and I know at least one of you regularly reads my posts so thank you C).

Western Columbine, (Aquilegia formosa) along the Smith River in CA.

I'm going to admit to having an aptitude for the sport, but with some reservations. As I write this, straddling my words loosely between images of an Aquilegia and Mimulus I shot while visiting the Smith River in Northern California last year, I should mention that right after I took these pictures I fell and gave myself severe whiplash.

Just sayin'.

Common Monkey-flower, (Mimulus guttatus) along the Smith River in CA. 

But let's get back to some of those summer blooms [insert awkward transition here].

There are so many amazing little plants and blooms for our sentimental green souls to treasure and like so many others, I have that insanely nerdy desire to know how, where, and why they grow. That's why many of the plants you see here I've grown from seed at some point, or else I had plans to play with that process this past year, but it had to be postponed until now. 

Yes, I can "announce" too that I will be back to my old routine soon and the basement will be filled with light and life this winter and I will stratify outside and I will be so happy about it. 

Yes, it's these subtle little touches in the natural world which matter and are important. It's these blooms that often have idiots like me coming back over and over. 

Calico Monkey-flower, (Mimulus pictus) at Annie's Annuals & Perennials.

Some of them are just amazing and you know of few other sights quite like them.

Sticky Phacelia (Phacelia viscida) at Annie's Annuals & Perennials.

I don't think I even need to mention what blue blooms do for a lot of people—myself included.

Rose Snapdragon, (Antirrhinum multiflorum) at Annie's Annuals & Perennials.

Some flowers you just want to touch and caress, and you wonder if you should purchase a whole new wardrobe based upon their merits—or at least a new pair of boots or some nail polish. (OK, maybe it's just me who thinks like this but I am becoming more and more convinced by messages I receive that a lot more oddballs are out there. Raise your hands! I know you're reading this right now.) 

Sticky Monkey-flower, (Mimulus aurantiacus) at UC Botanical Garden at Berkeley. 

But then there are the glowing blooms that brighten your way and shine a light down that plant path we must all wander down.

Mexican Prickly Poppy, (Argemone mexicana) at UC Botanical Garden at Berkeley.

I remember visiting the UC Botanical Garden at Berkeley for the first time and remembering how funny I used to think it was that my friend Sean Hogan worked as a curator there. As someone who'd studied art history, I'd never thought of curation taking place outside of an art museum or gallery. So I looked around and thought about how much visual literacy mattered in both of these arenas. 

I knew that I fit in when I thought about having compared hundreds of Christ images as an undergraduate and how that ability could easily overlap with a survey, say, of Agave—or any other group of plants. So similar to most, yet some of us just have a knack for discerning subtle differences—and these differences often matter a great deal and they tell us a lot. 

I'm not great at that game but I can spot and identify seed heads at great distances in their natural environment—sometimes while driving a car. It's a skill—a very strange one, but it's part of this whole process. 

Prickly Pear, or Opuntia bloom. 

I remember walking around, looking at the students and employees, and I thought about how sad I was that I'd been unable to complete the plant path long ago. I had to turn around defeated before I'd even really gone very far. 

My illness made physical activity and a lot of technical work too difficult. I had to slow down and at times I just didn't make much progress at all. My mind didn't work as well and I no longer had near perfect grades. It took years to discover I had swelling in my brain that was impeding me and inhibiting my growth as a person. I was trapped inside and I struggled for years to find the words to describe what I was experiencing. 

I turned to art to soothe and stimulate my mind. 

I moved indoors, inside of myself. Later I moved indoors because I had no choice. My immune reactions disallowed me from being outside. I had to look out the window and I started to play with seeds to keep the hope alive. 

Life circumstances prevented me from being able to return to any of these green dreams until these last few months. Now they surround me again and I am surround by green friends too who've made me feel so welcome despite my typically stylish and late arrival. Just when I wanted to give up hope after nearly 18 years things started to unravel in very mysterious ways. 

What matters is that I've arrived and I know why I'm here now and what I want to be doing. After a really long time, I feel like I've finally grown and that at long last I truly bloomed this summer. I've never felt like this before but I'm getting used to it. 

Elegant Clarkia, (Clarkia unguiculata). 

It's one foot in front of the other once again but this time I get to laugh and walk because I want to do so—not because I have to or need to do so. My load is so much lighter now—literally too. 

My mind is calm and silent now and I'm open to what's ahead of me. I have the mental space again and have found my old quiet personal nature waiting there for me. It was there all along waiting for me to be well enough to come by and pick it up and wear it again as my second skin. It's warmed me to the core to be myself again, and as time goes on, and I keep at this, I hope to better understand and explain my dormancy. 

Until that time, I will revel in the simplest of things, the blooms of summer and the magic they bring to gardeners and plant lovers around the world. I'm a believer and if you're here reading this, you probably are too.