The next month was dedicated to getting stronger. I had to first go to Dr. Brodkey, the neurosurgeon at the St. Joe's Brain and Spine Center. Dr. Brodkey told me the surgery was essentially perfect. It looked like Dr. Savevski was right after all. There was nothing that the doctor could even critique. He looked me right in the eyes and said "Nikki, you are the miracle patient." He said that if I had done so much as sneeze in that period of laying flat in that dreaded hospital in Macedonia, I would have guaranteed my paralyzation. I came a breath away from paralyzation, so near stillness it makes me wince.

 

For weeks, every time my mom went to work, I had a babysitter. My sister was back at school already, and for the most part, she had someone come over to walk the dog because I couldn’t, but mostly she had people come walk me. I was embraced by a variety of family and friends, but was overwhelmed. I was experiencing the same thing I did prior to surgery, comforting upset people and people wanting to see my now massive scar which led to comments of “Do you know how lucky you are?” or “Wow do you know how bad this could have been?” Yes, I did know. And yes, I'd already gone through this for a whole month. I wanted nothing more than to be done with everything, able to walk normally, dance again, go back to school. But enclosed in a tight brace that made me stand out like a sore thumb, it was hard to be normal.