One All Around

The electric clippers whir as I watch the hair tumble from my head. Strands of black and gray reflect the challenges of the recent past. And the man in the mirror - freshly-shaven - remembers.


As the last five springs made way for scorching Nor Cal sunshine, I would always prepare myself for the inevitable comments and questions. Friends and students have always wondered why I buzzed my hair. Sometimes, it's easier to spare folks the long version and tell them "it's my summer cut." In actuality, it's become a custom of mine since the earlier stages of Replacing Nemo.

05.26.2011 - Pre-Op Fresh Buzz

In the days prior to my life-preserving operation, I predicted that personal grooming would take a big backseat to recovery. The last thing I'd want to do with a six-inch mail slot in my chest is lean over the bathroom sink and fuss with styling and trimming my hair. In anticipation of this, I headed to my local barber and asked for the shortest haircut I could get. Minutes later, I was the grinning recipient of a fresh buzz cut: #1 all around my noggin.

While that decision proved to make things more convenient for a recovering heart patient five years ago, the tradition it birthed has become more than just a reunion with a previous fashion choice. It's now a reminder of the strength I found in my loved ones, the triumph of recovery, the tragedy that could've been, and the gift that is today...and beyond.

C.S. Lewis said, "hardship often prepares an ordinary person for an extraordinary destiny." When I look into the mirror on the anniversary of my valve replacement surgery and see my shaven head, I remember to take that struggle and allow it to bolster me as I journey towards my extraordinary destiny.

Happy Nemo Day!

The Ride

Since I last updated this blog, my life has sped along the proverbial roller coaster - full of exciting highs and a few disheartening dives. The ride has transformed me in many ways and in reflection of the past four years, I feel proud of the man I have become.

In 2012, my wife and I moved from our apartment in Folsom into the home of my youth...but not before putting our own touch during a lengthy renovation. I never would've imagined myself installing bathroom vanities, replacing electrical outlets, and navigating the darkness of our home's cramped crawlspace. (Quick aside: Wallpaper is evil. Removing it is the worst.)

Creepy Crawlspacing

While discovering new gifts for home improvement, my musical talents were not neglected. Some highlights include an exciting tune from my Hip-Hop band (The Shades of Gray) which got some rotation on local radio for a bit and a new holiday EP from my acoustic trio (The Zoo Human Project) with which we were able to raise money for a worthy cause.

My time at the Creative Arts & Music Center has continued to be a source of great inspiration and pride. I absolutely adore each of my students (present AND past) and I'm eternally grateful to them and their families for the privilege of helping them grow as expressive young people. And - over the past four years - my, have they grown!

The kids made me do it!

2013 brought with it a very difficult period for my wife and I. Twenty-two weeks into pregnancy, our first child Baby DJ came into the world. Too tiny and frail to survive, he lived for only eight minutes before we had to say goodbye to him. All the hopes and dreams we had for our son, the sound of his laughter, everything...left with him. And we slipped into darkness...

Decorated for DJ

We emerged a year later, pregnant again and cautiously optimistic. However, under the care of our diligent medical team and by the grace of God, we were able to rejoice with the birth of our second son. After a week-long tussle with jaundice, we were finally able to bring the little rascal home. Thus began our new life as over-tired, madly in-love parents of our baby, Noah.

Funny Boy

Four years ago today, I woke from valve-replacement surgery groggy and weak, but determined; vulnerable, but hopeful. Since then, that determination and hope has helped me negotiate the twists and turns of my life. Yet through it all, I have not been alone. My wife, my family, and my friends have all played a tremendous part in me reaching today with their love, encouragement, and support. These four years - and everything after - I dedicate to you. Thank you!

Better Safe... Part 2

Laying in the dark of the hospital room and itching from head to toe, I struggled to convince my nurse that I was having a full-blown allergic reaction to something. Eventually, she turned the overhead light on and saw my otherworldly pigment. I preceded to tell her about my allergies and tendency for anaphalaxis, so the nurse rushed to retrieve a potent dose of Benadryl. The antihistamine went to work immediately and quelled the response.

As I slipped out of harm's reach, my nurse left to investigate the cause of the intense episode. It turned out that I had experienced "Red Man Syndrome" - a common reaction to the one of my antibiotics, called Vancomycin.

March 28th - Red-Lettered

Like stereotypical, modern-day sleuths, my wife and I took to Google and discovered that "Red Man Syndrome" was more uncomfortable than deadly. And we also learned that Vancomycin is also known as the "drug of last resort". Was my illness and situation really THAT dire?

The next morning, I noticed the unfamiliar word - "neutropenic" - stamped in red on my breakfast menu. I was informed by the nurse that it meant my white blood cell count was extremely low and that I was highly susceptible to further infection. My hospital room became a quarantine zone of sorts, outside of which was posted a strict set a rules. I felt like the lone member of The Outcast Club.

March 29th - Club Rules

That same day, I underwent a Transesophageal Echocardiogram (T.E.E.). The procedure involved the insertion of special camera into my esophagus to allow an unobstructed look at my valve. If a bacterial infection had reached it, the vegetation could dislodge and cause me to have a stroke. In order to rule out this possibility, I underwent the T.E.E. with my awesome cardiologist at the helm. After being sedated and having a peculiar dream involving choking, wooden blocks, and Plinko, the results were in: Nemo was all clear!

Being a hospital veteran, I highlighted the following four days with short walks around the ICU in an effort to keep my body active...and to retain my sanity. Each day, I was told that tomorrow might be the day that I could go home. And each day, my doctors said my cultures were inconclusive; my return home would have to wait.

To be continued...

Better Safe... - Part I

I woke from a peaceful slumber with an itch at the back of my neck. As I brought my fingernails to my skin to scratch, a burning sensation began to radiate to the rest of my body like ripples from a pebble in a pond. Before I knew it, I was being engulfed in a fiery, itchy blanket. I buzzed the nurse in and when she turned the light on, we discovered that every inch of my skin turned to a beet red. Glancing over at my IV drip, I wondered to myself, "how the heck did I end up like this?"

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It began a few days earlier as a pin-prick sensation in my throat. The next day, my energy level was low. By Friday, I had to call in sick for work.

March 24th - Spring Recital Haze

Saturday was a haze. It was recital day and my students needed me, so I buckled down and powered though the afternoon. The Art Center was filled to the brim with our junior superstars and their families, and I did my best to keep my distance from the crowd when ever I could. It was a challenging - yet rewarding - day. My prize for surviving the recital was a much-needed, full day of rest on Sunday.

By the time Monday rolled around, I had been struggling with a fluctuating temperature. At one point, the thermometer climbed above 101-degrees and prompted me to research fevers and mechanical valves. Most of what I read made it clear: I needed to see a doctor.

March 26th - Admitted

After hours of waiting, blood tests, waiting, needle sticks, and more waiting, I was admitted for a stay in the hospital. My wife and I (and the medical staff, as well) had no idea how long. Eventually, we discovered that the hospital and doctors would be taking a "better safe than sorry" approach.

One of the several risks associated with valve replacement surgery is the susceptibility to Endocarditis (inflammation of the inside lining of the heart or valves). If a bacterial infection were to reach Nemo, I almost certainly would have to undergo ANOTHER operation. In order to rule out endocarditis - and pinpoint the origin of my illness - my doctors tested my blood for various bacterial and viral strains. The results of those blood cultures took time, which meant we had to wait.

March 26th - Eye Vee'd

Rather than twiddle our thumbs while a potential bacterial infection attached to my valve, the doctors took the proactive approach and administered three different intravenous antibiotics. With not much to do but wait for the regimen to travel through my body, I punctuated a long, exhausting day...and closed my eyes.

To be continued...

Happy Heart Day!

Today marks the first anniversary of a notable day in Nemo history. One year ago, I sat in my cardiologist's office as he briefed my wife and I about my defective valve, aortic aneurysm, and the need to undergo open-heart surgery. It was an unforgettable - yet extremely difficult - Valentine's Day, to say the least.

As I reflect on the tribulations and triumphs of the past year, I feel so grateful to be surrounded by so many loving friends and family...and the best wife a fella could ever wish for. You all gave me a reason to fight when the going got tough.

The life I live, made possible by you.

With Love and Gratitude, Happy Valentine's Day!

- Derek

Three Months Ago...

Before my surgery, I promised to do my best to keep everyone posted via "Replacing Nemo". I have failed. Please forgive me.

Since Neo-Nemo's three month mark has just passed, I thought it would be a good idea to wrap up my surgery and hospital experience in a tight little bundle for ease of consumption. Enjoy.

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Three months ago…

…I felt broken.
…I was in a haze.
…I was anemic.
…I couldn’t breathe deeply.
…I was stricken with migraines and visual auras.
…I ate more pills than food.
…I could only stomach a handful of Mini-Wheats and watered down apple juice.


Three months ago…

…most food had a metallic taste.
…walking 25 feet down the hall and back was a challenge.
…exercise was lifting my heels off the ground and raising my arms while seated.
…sleep was impossible.
…my extremities would occasionally go numb.
…an intense burning would often disable my legs, shoulders, and lower back.
…taking a shower was a huge undertaking.
…my chest pillow was a necessary component to getting in and out of bed.
…lifting over five pounds was forbidden.
…singing or playing music required energy I didn’t have.
…it was easy to feel defeated.

Three months ago…

…my wife shared her strength and kept me focused on getting well.
…I was flooded with thoughts and prayers from family and friends.
…I was spoiled by caring, long-distance visitors.
…I felt myself improving – little by little – each day.
…I started to acknowledge the everyday things I once took for granted.

Three months ago...

…the Mavericks stuck it to the Heat in a satisfying series. =)

And now today…

…I feel mostly normal.
…I have returned to teaching and playing music.
…I am capable of lacing up and shooting hoops.
…I value every day, every moment, and every ticking heartbeat.

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From here on, I'll most likely be blogging about my post-op triumphs along with any reflections from my experience. Updates such as "3 months later and the doc say my valve looks gorgeous" probably won't make it here but will instead be splashed upon my Twitter and Facebook. If you have questions about anything specific, please comment below.

The Big Day Eve

What once began as a countdown of weeks is now the ticking of hours. Lately, my wife and I have been so caught up in making pre-surgery preparations that we’ve somewhat separated ourselves from the reality of the days and months ahead. And now, IT is almost upon us.

When this chapter first began, it was excruciating. I remember having flashbacks of being in the ICU with my parents, wishing that I could make their problems go away. I recall fitful nights of restless sleep, burdened by worst case scenarios. And the sense of regret from seeing my wife struggle through this with me…it remains.

As easy as it is to torture myself with what could go wrong during the surgery (Junior Mint, anyone?), I’m doing my best to keep my sights honed in on my recovery and beyond. My focus is already on rising to my feet so I can get back to doing what I enjoy - with the people in my life that I love so deeply.

Before I head in for my procedure, I want to recognize some of those folks responsible for keeping me positive and for giving me hope:

• My Family – Although most of us are separated by geographical distances, I nonetheless sense your love and I’m bolstered by it. Thank you.
  
  
• My Friends – You’ve rushed to my aid, bailed me out, and reminded me of all the 100+ reasons that I’ll get through this fine.
  
  
• My Bandmates – Thanks for giving me an outlet and an escape. I’d go crazy without you. Correction: I am less crazy because of you. Ya ya yay!
  
  
• My Fellow Teachers and Staff at CAMC – You’ve handled this monkey-wrench extremely well. I appreciate all of the help!
  
  
• My Students and Their Families – Being with you has been entertaining, enlightening, and rewarding. I can’t wait to get back to sharing the gift of music with you!
  
  
• ValveReplacement.org – One moment I felt alone on an island and then I visited the forums and became a part of a new family. Your community is a sanity saver.
  
  
• And of course…MY WIFE – You are my protector and my advocate. My strength and my purpose. Thank you for enduring these countless hardships with me. I love you, eternally!! For Saw-whet and Saw-wee!!

As you can see, I have a lot to be grateful for and a lot of reasons to make this a speedy recovery. In the meantime, I’ll do my best to bring post-op updates whenever I can via this blog (or my Facebook for current, bite-sized goods) and if I’m unable or not up to it, my wife has volunteered to do it for me – adding one more thing to her never-ending list.

Thanks again for your thoughts, your prayers, and your hearts. I'm looking forward to commencing the Neo-Nemo era! See you when it starts!

Love,
Derek