I almost didn't get the surgery. When the surgeon explained to me it would be a 50/50 chance I either wouldn't make it, or that if I did, I would be paralyzed from the neck down. My reasoning at the time was I would have about 2-3 years left to walk compared to not being able to walk the day after the surgery. It's funny the thoughts that flash through your mind when something like this happens.

The tumor was actually inside the cord. Think of it like a pea shoved into a straw. It took up virtually every available space causing my spinal fluid to back up into my brain and putting pressure on my lower back. They had to remove my vertebrae from the back of my neck, make an incision along the length of the cord, remove the mass, stitch the cord back together, then finally use screws and rods to put my spine back together.

One moment I will never forget is when they woke me up in post-op to ask if I can move my right leg. For a second I didn't want to try in fear of the worst. But when I lifted my leg a bit, I shed a tear or two and promptly fell asleep again.

ICU was... interesting. I had slipped down in my bed so the nurse called an aid in to help her move me back up. They grasped the edges of that pad thingy and the aid told me to lift my head and put my chin on my chest. Before I could say I couldn't, they yanked me up causing my head to drag along the bed. I'm usually pretty mellow and have an extremely high tolerance to pain, but holy cow did that hurt. I let loose a stream of obscenities that would have made a drunken sailor blush. Today, I feel bad about what I said. I honestly do not know if the aid's mother and a goat really did have sexual relations or not. It's not my place to judge.