INSPIRATIONAL STORY OF THE DAY
A disabled mom is an inspiration to her TV-newscaster daughter.  See why:
"I understood, intellectually, that mom was in a coma. Dad told me she was in a “chemically induced coma” several hours before. We knew it was coming. It was what she wanted. She wouldn’t be in pain after a twelve hour surgery to repair her spine.
But it didn’t really sink in until I was driving home after work late that night. She’s usually the only person awake, so I use my 25 minute commute to catch up with her. I wanted to tell her about my supportive colleagues and the outpouring of love from my community. The sheer volume of people who were praying for her -- strangers, friends, random Facebook friends -- was overwhelming. I wanted to share that with her, but I couldn’t.

She was in a coma.

The first part of her nine-level spinal fusion was over. To answer the inevitable questions of my journalist coworkers, I had a speech prepared: “Essentially, they are breaking and re-setting her spine. It’s extremely rare. Doctors usually don’t do fusions above three levels, because it destabilizes and strains the rest of the skeleton. Her discs had already ruptured and her vertebrae were fusing themselves together, pinching on her spinal cord. She had a lot of neurological symptoms, like paralysis and nerve pain. She physically could not stand up straight. She’s been disabled for most of my life.”

I kept driving, shaken, slower, my mind halfway across the country in a basement ICU. My parents ordered everybody to stay away from the hospital, except for mom’s sister, who alternated shifts with dad so someone was always by her side. My parents did not want their children to be there if something went wrong. Mom was convinced she would not survive the surgery. She had prepared her will, cleaned out closets, and simplified the family’s finances. My parents decided they wanted our last memory of her to be a living, happy one -- not flat lining in a hospital room.

Two days later, the doctors tried to rouse her from the chemical coma. She didn’t come around. Her eyes rolled back into her head, she didn’t respond to her name, she just... wasn’t. They ran all sorts of tests to rule out possible complications, but at the end of the day they had no explanation. She was due to have the second part of the surgery in less than 24 hours.

Dad consulted with the doctors and acted according to mom’s wishes: “If I’m still alive, finish it.” (Mom’s pretty tough.) They placed her into a chemical coma again and completed the second surgery in less than five hours. Doctors were confident it was successful and decided to let her spend another night in a coma before trying to wake her.

This time, she did come around.
First, she opened her eyes. A day later, she squeezed Dad’s hand. Still later, when a doctor came into the room and accidentally got a flash of her behind, she joked, “At least you’re seeing my best side!”

A week after she woke up, I sent her a picture of my cross-eyed cat, Boo, at 2:30 a.m. I was sad and I missed our late night conversations. I didn’t even know if she had her cell phone (or if she knew how to see text messages), but I figured she would get it eventually. She responded, “Ho Boo,” which is parent-text for “Hi Boo.” I immediately called her and we spoke for an hour. Her voice, which has comforted me for twenty seven years, has never sounded sweeter.

Nearly a month after the first cut, she came home. The first time I saw her stand straight up I cried. I couldn’t believe she was standing upright. Less than three months later, she is walking daily in the park behind our house. She can lay flat on a bed. The doctors hope she will be able to travel in a year.

I don’t really have the words to explain how significant this surgery has been. You have to understand, she hasn’t been able to move well in years. That means no college visits, no visits to CNN, not even going out to get our nails done -- nothing. If we wanted to see her, we had to go back to Minnesota. Choosing where to live -- something many people take for granted -- was an existential crisis for my siblings and me. Giving her back her spine, straight up, was like giving her her life back.
Since the surgery, mom’s grabbed life with a vengeance. She survived 20 years with an excruciating disability and most of the time, she’s handled it with grace. When she became too disabled to work, she cherished making breakfast for us in the morning. When she couldn’t do that anymore, she chose to undergo a very dangerous surgery with a year-long recovery. There was no guarantee she would be able to walk afterwards -- in fact, she was told it was possible she’d end up paralyzed or dead. She did it anyway.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom! Not only do you impress me, you’ve inspired me. I love you."

"A human being is happiest and most successful when dedicated
to a cause outside his own individual, selfish satisfaction."
-Benjamin Spock