Erin's Corner

Yesterday was my six week post-op appointment, and I walked out of it with all green lights. My CT scan showed great fusion happening, which was exactly what I’d hoped to hear.

At five weeks out, I feel like I’ve officially rejoined the world. Good timing, because in one week we leave for Costa Rica. I have never been homebound like this.

Yesterday marked exactly one month since I walked through the doors of Porter Hospital for surgery. Looking back across these four weeks, it feels like both everything and almost nothing has happened.

I am twenty-six days out today. In just two days, it will be a full month since surgery, and to be completely honest, this past week was rough.

Tuesday arrived with a true shift in the weather. While I could happily live in endless summer year-round, there is a quiet comfort in looking out the living room window this morning at the fog and the welcome moisture gathering…

After days of a slow and quiet rhythm, the weekend arrived like a tidal wave of energy and activity. Abby came home on Thursday only to head back out early Friday morning for a trip, with Matt waking up before…

If the postures were merely the training ground for the bigger WHY of yoga, I will need to be reminded of this throughout my recovery. The universe has, in true form, sent tangible reminders through the people who love me.

"What about yoga?" It is the question that has hung over me from the beginning, following me into every exam room with every doctor, nurse, and physical therapist.

Monday and Tuesday were the most exhausting physical low points of this entire recovery. My torso had become a solid cylinder with zero shape, compressed to the point where every breath was pressing against my sore ribs.

Yesterday was a postcard-perfect Colorado Saturday. The sky was a piercing blue, and the air had that crisp bite that always reminds me that there is no better place to live than CO.

Today is Friday, October 2nd, and for the very first time since Dr. Allison completed the first surgery, the world feels steady again. To get to this peace, Matt and I had to walk through the fire first.

If it feels like I disappeared into a black hole over the last few days, it’s because I did. Coming home from the hospital on Monday afternoon felt like stepping off the edge of a cliff.

If you looked at my social media over the last few days, you saw photos of me sitting up, smiling, looking determined and strong. That is true.

It is Monday morning, and the air in this room feels subtly, blessedly different. The first gift of the day was seeing Lindsay walk back through my door for shift change.

Sunday offered a small reprieve: I actually managed to piece together a bit more sleep than the night before, which gave me a much-needed baseline of energy to face the day. The morning quickly turned into an intensive rehabilitation gauntlet.

By Saturday morning, my body decided to cash every check the last two surgeries had written. The night before had been another long, grueling exercise in endurance.

Good morning. I think. If Wednesday’s anterior surgery was a masterclass in delicate precision, Thursday’s posterior rebuild was pure, unapologetic trauma. There is no comparison between the two.

It is 5:00 AM on Thursday, and I am propped up in a hospital bed at Porter Adventist. I hurt, of course, but it is a manageable pain—a different kind of pain than the chronic, grinding agony I walked in…

This is it. The final twenty-four hours before the reconstruction begins. Yesterday morning, before the lab results came through, I unrolled my mat with Ella to film her introductory class. Watching her step in front of the lens felt monumental.

We got ourselves moving and hit the road by 9:00 AM from Sand Gulch Campground. The last hurrah, our final glimpse of the summer we were hoping for, the summer that was delayed by a year by two surgeries (Matt's…

It is early Sunday morning, and my stomach just did a violent, free-fall flip. Three days. Seeing the number in front of me knocks the wind right out of my lungs.

It is early Saturday morning, well before sunrise, and bitingly chilly. The past couple of days have brought partly cloudy skies with scattered, passing showers.

It is early Friday morning. The canyon is pitch-black, dead quiet, and sharply chilly. Inside our one room cozy home, the air has that crisp autumn bite, and Rindo is curled up in the chair beside me, snoring rhythmically with…

We pulled it off. By 1:00 PM yesterday, just an hour behind our most optimistic target after the morning doorstep surprise in Denver, the truck was hitched, the trailer was secure, and we were rolling south.

The 4:30 AM alarm went off with zero mercy. A while back, I had actually tried to plan a surprise private yoga session for Daniel and his wife Allison, dedicated Five Parks practitioners who live on the other side of…

Tuesday was a whirlwind from the second my feet hit the floor. When we are home between trips, our house becomes command central for health logistics, and that includes our sweet 13-year-old pup, Rindo.

It is Monday morning, and the countdown has officially reached nine days. Yesterday was Matt’s 53rd birthday. If I’m being honest, it felt a little muted, shadowed by the towering medical reality on our doorstep.

Yesterday, an unfamiliar sensation settled over me: a deep, profound wave of relief. Until you clear that hospital gauntlet, you don’t realize how much invisible weight you are hauling around.

We woke up on Saturday morning in a quiet, slightly stunned daze. After running Friday's medical marathon, starting at Avista for trigger point injections with Dr.

Coming home broke the dam. We made the drive back over the Continental Divide, parked the trailer in the driveway, and by 8:00 this morning, I had already cried, argued with Matt, and felt entirely unraveled before the day had…

It is early morning in Grand Junction, and the camper is dark, still and quiet. I didn’t sleep well or for very long. My eyes popped open at 4:00 AM, and I knew immediately there was no going back to…

Whenever I mention that I am having "back surgery," I can feel people trying to fit it into a box they recognize. Back surgeries run the gambit: a small incision, a quick outpatient procedure to trim a bulging disc, a…