The Soldier and the Squirrel introduces children to the Purple Heart

through a loving story of a friendship between a newly wounded soldier

and Rocky the squirrel with his backyard friends. This story began as a

blog during my first year in bed after my incident. With much

encouragement, it is now a book and has been placed in the

Ronald Reagan Presidential Library & Museum. Please watch the video

on the About page to learn for the Soldier & Rocky are changing children's






Glorious Rejoice Dots Glitter





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Loop This - Days 5-7 - Stem Cell Recovery

  Day 5 

The honeymoon seemed to come to a close this morning. I was warned, so no surprise, but my spinal pain returned in the morning. Can't blame it for wanting to see what the fuss is all about. Evidently the jackhammers were a bit too loud for a Sunday morning. Thankfully, it was still not its fireball self, but nowadays I'm viewing every shift in my body through a microscope; Something it would probably be healthier to refrain from, but as part of a trial, it's my duty to document and notate each symptom for my doctor's logs. If ignorance is bliss, I guess I am to be one angry futher mucker. 

The incision sites and encircling acreage are still quieting down, but dang I am not opposed to raising a barbed wire fence around my trunk. Poor Don, every time he merely lays his arm on my side as we watch TV I hit the ceiling, and him. I'm not the only one black and blue around here anymore. It's incredible how sensitive the recovering areas are. It makes me wonder how anyone could ever possibly - with a sound mind - opt to and pay for liposuction, on purpose! And then I thought about Cindy Crawford's waistline at the age of Goddess and it all became clear again. My whole life I've wondered what my tummy, booty and thighs would look like with liposuction.  Until I moved into my wheelchair and realized I'm never going to have to worry about that again! My tummy is pretty much behind a curtain, no one can see my booty, and my thighs are horizontal -I've hit the female insecurity jackpot! No more thongs! Spanx are just a verb! I did try to look at the bright side, until  I reflected on the whole not being able to walk thing. 

After that I got to work on my sloth imitation. A sloth with a migraine. Let's just I was rudely reminded this is not a sprint but a marathon. There's a funny thing about the 6-9 month recovery period after a Stem Cell Transplant, the days you feel you are going backwards, are the days the transplant is moving forward. The nature of the process is deconstruction to reconstruction. Specific parts of your body are literally under construction, the scar tissue, structures are being broken down and then built all over again. The new Cells are repairing and eliminating others. So much is going on inside that the body needs every one of its resources to accomplish what is hopefully going to be a miraculous task. 


A remedy I am practicing is distraction. The Real Housewives of New York always makes a day look easy. Compared to Ramona and Bethhenny's ongoing row, the battle inside of me looks like a day at the spa. I'd like to see Ramona shed some cells for mankind sometime. You know, a good old fashioned dermabrasion always builds character. 


Day 6 

Woke up and my whole world turned around! Out of bed by 10:00am (unheard of!) and did some laundry. Very little spinal pain but still hovering as to warn me to behave. I even drove and partied with Blue Belle under rainbow noodles in a drive-through car wash. Then 4:00pm and my damn glass slipper fell off and had to drive my pumpkin home. 


The one common denominator of my days is unpredictability. As long as I can chalk that up to being exciting, this is all going to work out just fine.  



Day 7 

Ok. Someone has placed a vice on my forehead with an implanted chip, blue tooth of course, and is lurking outside my home logged onto our wifi and controlling it via their iPhone 7 Plus; The Plus, because it is larger and has a greater operating capacity, especially since we just upgraded to unlimited data. I have been body-snatched by a 'temporal' pschitzophrenic. One hour I'm eating a Bon Bon, the next my head is spinning while plastering the walls with chocolate spackle. 


The good news is it is only six days out and I can unequivocally say that my post op pain is about 84% healed! Specific times call for specific measures. Each incision has almost completely healed the bruising gone! A key to this was the doctor's order to begin and continue Bromelain and Arnica prior to the transplant, both of which I ordered through Amazon.  The only bruising left is immediately surrounding the incision sites. 


For the headaches I take powdered packets of Cambria, a potent Diflucan steroidal type of medication. Be sure to put this in only a couple ounces of water, not milk or juice or anything else. It has a minty flavor that you is quite unfavorable, so at first I tried milk instead. It tasted so much better, but it was only half as effective. Then I read the package. Doi. I'm really trying to drink as much water as possible as well. I've found watching TV and bright lights can bring on the beast so have resorted to wearing my prescription sunglasses inside. Not only is it effective, I look damn cool doing so. That and the Bon Bond and I am one hot Mama!


Speaking of hot, whether it's good for me or not, nice warm/hot showers help with muscle stiffness. The areas of muscle along my spine where the stem cell paste was injected are still squawking. Lidoderm patches work beautifully as well as my prescribed not-for-sissies anesthetic Compound cream. This has a combination of topical opioids so always consider this when combining this with patches and oral medications. Everything I use or do is under careful the moderation of my pain management doctor. 


I have laid lower than a snake's belly today (as my grandpa used to say) with the hopes of making it out tonight for a family 4th of July celebration at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery. If I don't make it back at least I'll have appropriate accommodations!


So, the end to another interesting day in the rebuilding of me. As loud as it may seem, it's not that terrible an almost-place to be. 

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