Valentine's Day: Love, Fear and a Spinal Tap

Monday is Valentine's Day, and I for one can't wait!

But not for the usual reasons.

I'm not expecting chocolates, roses or jewelry from my husband. I don't expect those things from him on Valentine's Day because what he gives me every day of the year is unconditional love and support. If the only thing he gave me in our life together was some chocolate and flowers on one day of the year, I can guarantee you I wouldn't be married to him.

No, this year for Valentine's Day I am getting a spinal tap, also known as a lumbar puncture. And I'm actually looking forward to it!

I am naturally nervous about the procedure, which will remove excess fluid building up between my brain and skull that creates unmanageable pain and vision problems; but I am also eagerly anticipating the relief it should bring. It will not solve all the pain and problems related to my traumatic brain injury, but it will solve one that no other procedure or medicine can.

That my spinal tap falls on Valentine's Day does not bother me in the least. I owe this positive attitude to the love, support and encouragement I have from my friends, family and husband.

Two weeks ago, when I found out that I needed the procedure, I was quite scared and alarmed. My doctor allayed my fears somewhat by telling me he would do the procedure himself and I would be mercifully out cold the entire time.

Still, unfamiliar with the process, I was frightened and uncertain. I talked to many of my TBI and personal friends who gave me advice and comfort. They assured me that many of them had gone through the same procedure and I would be just fine. Their words took away much of my anxiety, and I began to realize that this would not be easy, but it would likely help me a great deal.

I also know that I will not be alone. My husband, who has been by my side throughout my traumatic brain injury, will be there with me on Monday. So will my mother.

This is not to say I am absent of fear about this or anything else. But I think of myself and my fears in two different stages: pre-traumatic brain injury and post-traumatic brain injury.

My fears pre-traumatic brain injury were those of a child, even when I was having them as an adult. Early in my life, I remember well the fear I would have when my father went away on a business trip. I would cry myself to sleep at night fearing that something terrible would happen to him and he would never come home.

As an adult, I worried about things over which I had little or no control. I was afraid of accidents happening to people I loved, losing work, the roof blowing off or caving in, and so on.

I never worried about slipping on the wet kitchen floor and fracturing my skull, changing my life forever. But it happened.

And now I realize that although I still have fears, I can't let them consume me. If I fear everything, eventually one of those fears will come true. Even if I fear nothing, I am not immune to life's realities. If I place myself somewhere in the middle by recognizing rational fears and doing what I can to prevent them, there are no guarantees. All I can do is deal with each fear individually and try to remember a quote I came across recently:

"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear."

This beautiful phrase was written by James Neil Hollingworth, writing under the pseudonym, Ambrose Redmoon, who was a parapalegic when he wrote it.

For me, what is more important than fear is that there are so many people who love and support me, who stand by me when I need them, and even when I think I don't.

This is what Monday means to me. My remaining fears of the spinal tap on Monday are not nearly as important as the fact that I am surrounded by loving people and that the procedure will hopefully improve my condition.

Valentine's Day itself is not really important and neither is the fact that I won't be spending it being pampered with chocolates and roses. I don't fear "losing out" on this made-up holiday just because the day to which it was appointed happens to fall on the day I have my spinal tap.

To me, this is not going to be a nightmare Valentine's Day. I think it's going to be one of the best and most memorable Valentine's Days I'll ever have. And I owe it to the love and support of endless people who give to me every day, not just Valentine's Day. I know they will all be thinking of me and supporting me no matter where they are, and that is more than anyone could ask for on Valentine's Day or any day.

Our weekend will not be bereft of joy and fun, however. Sunday night, David and I are going to watch the classic "rockumentary," "This is Spinal Tap." This was David's idea, as he felt I needed to go into my own spinal tap on Monday with a sense of humor. He wants me to be sure to tell the anesthesiologist to: "Crank it up to 11!!"

Tonight, we are going out to celebrate Valentine's Day with another couple. Deb and I are planning to dress to kill. The boys will probably wear jeans. But we don't care. We want to go out and feel beautiful, no matter what anyone else is wearing. For me, I want to look and feel my best tonight, knowing that on Monday I will certainly not be looking my best, but I will be doing what is best for my recovery.

I told David to take a picture of me on Monday either before or after the procedure and post it on Facebook. It's a funny little quirk I'm experiencing. I want people to know that although I post lots of lovely pictures of myself on Facebook where I'm all dressed up; underneath it all, I am just me: almost always in pain, frequently untidy, living a life that revolves around doctors and medical treatments, and always vulnerable in many ways.

That is what the picture of me on Monday will represent: Not the nice, made-up Tori that I will be tonight, but the real Tori, completely unmasked and without reservations about who she is or how she looks. That's the Tori I want people to know and love.

In the meantime, this weekend is going to be about having fun with David and our friends and family; not to celebrate Valentine's Day, but to celebrate life and the fact that living life is more important than living with fear.