My back is too broken for this hike.

I was just looking over my back injuries from when I was a child. I have spondylosis and spondylolisthesis, exacerbated by walking around for 9 months with a fractured spine.  I had to endure painful physical therapy that shifted my spine and ultimately resulted in my bones fusing incorrectly as I grew during that 9 month period. I was only 8 and my bones were still changing and growing. The doctors total lack of understanding of my injuries has left me with permanent damage that no surgery will ever be able to correct, constant and sometimes excruciating pain and in effect, a deformed spine, leg, hips, and pelvis. It never really dawned on me what I had truly been up against all of these years.  Not just the physical, but  the emotional as well.

I wore a back brace so small that when my brother found it hiding away in a box after several years, he was able to place the brace around his bicep.  My brother is not a large person.  In fact he was quite fit at that time and you could most definitely purchase tickets to his gun show.  I was teased mercilessly for that brace, encountered teachers, parents, and children that did not understand what had happened to me or why I wore the brace.  It was worn under my clothes, was less than an inch thick, but it was there....with me all the time day and night.  Forcing my spine to try to be straight, to form some semblance of a normal spine. 

 It would not be without gain, I succeeded in being able to stand up straight, a feat that had eluded me for months.  My mom knew there was something wrong the day I could barely lift my leg over a baby gate and screamed in agony, she demanded more tests, more x-rays, just more...anything to relieve the pain.  When the injury was found, I was immediately transferred to the Children's hospital where I met the first man I would develop a school girl crush and a fondness that left me in giggles, too shy to make eye contact.  The worst part was the MRI, in 1993, MRI's were a terrifying portal to hell.  Strapped to the bed and forced into a cone of darkness, hearing what sounded like animals beating on the sides of the machine; I was eventually forced to be sedated and strapped back.  It took several hours.  My day did not finish with an MRI, it finished with me being covered in Papier-mâché.  That was the fun part.  It was the only fun part.

I was left with emotional and physical scars.  My physical scars are internal, you can not see the hemorrhaging disc, the misshapen spine that sits at a slight angle, or even tell that one leg is drastically longer than the other.  I was forced to stop gymnastics, running, jumping; forced to explain why some physical activity I was capable of doing and others I couldn't.  I left behind a childhood that was incredibly painful and full of teasing...not silly, children don't know any better, but teasing that left me unable to accept myself for who I was and the body that had now been given to me because of a stupid accident.  I hated everything.  I hated myself, my body, my family, and most vehemently, hated my parents.  It was their fault I would scream, if they had just left me with MY REAL PARENTS, none of this would have ever happened.  I would never had experienced such pain and hurt and I never would have felt so abandoned and hopeless in my life.  

Life and all of it's tragedies happen, and no amount of going back in time will take them away.  They will just continue to haunt you until you are able to take the last breath of all the pain and release it to the world, letting it know you have been hurt, you have been lost, and you have not abandoned your post in this world.  

I went on a hike a couple of Saturdays ago.  It ended as shamefully as any hike could; with me having to turn around and go back because my spine was making an attempt to release itself from my body.

I can't recall a time where I have been in that significant amount of pain in a long, long time.  I probably injured my spine while doing Insanity and just didn't realize it until I made an attempt to do a fairly strenuous hike.  I made it about an hour into the hike before it was just too much.  At least I tried.

Our initial descent into the valley.  It was about 8:15 am close to 90 degrees.  Our descent took about 10 minutes and you could see into the valley where we would eventually be crossing.

This is just another shot of our descent, just getting deeper into the valley.

Delante is crazy and wears winter gear to go hiking.

This is part of a water fall, the river normally cascades over this portion but since its the dry season, well it is self-explanatory .

There are some pools that remain because water does continue to flow from the river.

These pools can be up to 20 ft deep.

Edge of what is normally a nice looking waterfall.

Getting ready to descend down the sides of the waterfall and the rocks.

A nice view of the tree line and the jungle.

The rock face we climbed down and then back up, just for fun.

Crossing through the river.  Normally the river is about chest high, so its much easier to cross when its the dry season, but not as adventurous. That is pretty much where my hike ended. And that is all.

The sad tale of the sea cucumber.

Spent another wonderful day at the beach.  Swam out farther than I ever had and scared myself a little.  Not because it was deep, but because it was shallow and am now a little gun shy when it comes to the coral reefs after my paddle boarding accident.  I swam over a large section of reef and was too afraid to move so I kind of sucked in my tummy as much as I could and sort of dead man floated with the current.  I then had to ask assistance from my two friends because I didn't know how to maneuver around the coral.  Eventually I made it to where Matt and Eli were and then immediately stepped on a sea cucumber.  Eli then regaled me with a story about how, when you're an islander, you play a game wherein you throw sea cucumbers at one another.  I am unsure how this constitutes a game so much as it does animal cruelty.  

I admittedly tossed, albeit gently, a sea cucumber out to sea.  Much like a child tosses a wiffle ball, this little sea creature was lobbed out to sea.  Eli then, so nicely tosses his sea cucumber. Right into the diving flag.  It landed with a little thud.  I don't know how one kills a sea cucumber, but I think this is one way.  The sea cucumber was probably fine considering you can stand on them and they just sort of deflate.  They are quite pliable and mildly gross to the touch.

Prior to being sent back to the ocean floor.

The best little girls in the world.

Matt took some good photos of the coral reef and some of the fish.  The water has been murky and greenish and I don't have the best underwater camera so the photos aren't always too exciting, but it's fish...underwater, and that is always fascinating to me.  I kind of walked about the reef since it was still really low tide and I could actually touch the bottom.  Its like walking out into the middle of a lake, only scarier and with coral reef that will rip open your feet and make you bleed and leave you with red scabby bumps for several weeks and a seemingly permanently painful scar on side of your toe that probably has something embedded in it, but really, its no big deal.*  

These photos are all enhanced to show the colors better.. the rest of the photos are unedited.

There is a fish in there.

This is what the water looks like form above...I lied, this photo is edited and enhanced.

And then below...

These little dudes will come right at your camera and check you out.

I became the pied piper of fish.  I walked off to another spot of coral and I had a trail of fish following me there.

That is the view of another beach we sometimes go to, Fujita beach.

That is a bowl of water. It was for Purdy.

She is precious.

Lizard eggs?

We also ate some food before we went to the beach and Matt tried to teach me the ukulele.  I don't think he realized how sadly inept at playing musical instruments I am, and the fact that I can not make my fingers move in the direction that my brain wants me to because I have the hand-eye coordination of a moose.

I learned C and A...maybe?? I can't even remember.  

What I do know is that when I hear fingers sliding over the strings of a guitar (or a ukulele), it apparently stirs the memories of most of my long forgotten boyfriends... sitting and playing their acoustic guitars.  Mainly just one in particular.  It is a sound I hadn't heard in several years and it made me remember so much of being young and in love and that my freedom in this world means a lot to me.  While having a discussion not too long ago, someone mentioned that it was their belief that people experience happiness much more and have happier lives when they have someone to share the experience with.  You can not measure ones happiness and compare it to another's, because happiness is relative.  My experiences are my own and prefer them to remain that way.

I went on a vacation with a boyfriend once and it was a truly miserable time for me.  Every day was brand new and I wanted to have pictures of everything and have him be in the pictures with me, but he responded on several occasions, that he had already seen it and didn't need a photo standing in front of it or with it.  This was especially troubling when it involved any sort of attraction that had something to do with baseball,  He offered instead, to take photos of me, standing alone, in front of art work and buildings and architecture that I found fascinating.  I suppose if I ever meet someone  that is as fascinated by life as I am and will not leave me standing alone in a photo, I will consider staying with that person for awhile.

*I might have to dig out a small pebble from my toe tonight.