A Cowgirl's Craniotomy - My Messy Beautiful

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If you don't know me already, I'm a cowgirl at heart, an elementary school teacher by profession, a wife, a mother, a brain tumor survivor and my entire life has surely been messy beautiful. Because of some recent messes, I was asked by my good friend Chelsea to join a writing project.  Glennon Melton of Momastery.com and author of Carry On Warrior wants people like me to share our stories by writing a short essay.  So pull up a chair and put on your cowboy hat because for some reason I couldn't go short today. It's story time folks!




If you have faith the size of a mustard seed you will say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move; then nothing shall be impossible for you.                           Matthew 17:20

My life was pretty clean.  My daughter was home from College in Ecuador, my son had been accepted into the police academy, I was able to find a $600 horse to replace the finished barrel racing horse I sold to pay our 2011 taxes.  My husband and I were enjoying a bit of golf and his softball season was in high gear. He was feeling strong and healthy. One day I even overheard people talking about his amazing curve ball when I was in the bathroom at a Canadian three day tournament.  Life was beautiful. 

Johnny, Kaylin, Me, Joe

By mid summer 2012 I was having some pretty strange sensations including heightened senses, a lack of muscle memory, dizzy-woozy feelings and daily headaches.  These symptoms were interfering with my life on the rodeo road.  At one rodeo where my daughter Kaylin and I were getting our horses warmed up, in a sand filled round pen on a knoll raised above the rodeo arena, she said to me, "Mom, just focus.  You can do it.  Put every bit of concentration you have into this moment.  You only need 16 seconds of total focus." She was nearly begging me.  "And remember, sit up straight! And remember to ride one handed around each barrel. And remember to talk to Caz, tell him 'easy' at each barrel."  The barrel racing was next so we slowly allowed our horses to climb down the steep embankment behind the bucking chutes.

I planned on following Kay's advice.  I breathed in slowly and long, holding it for a few seconds and then I

blew all my breath out hard. I used positive self-talk to get myself ready.  I was facing away from the arena and barely listening to the sounds around me.  I wanted to ride a perfect pattern in my mind before my run.  I was half way through when the crowd went wild interrupting my thoughts.  I couldn't stop myself, I looked over my shoulder to see what was going on. I saw that the clowns had the crowd in stitches as the barrels were being set up. I breathed in slowly and long again thinking about those sixteen seconds.

When I heard, "Up next we have a Fredonia, New York cowgirl." I knew it was me.  I was running before Kaylin tonight.  I zoned out all the distractions that I could, thinking only about riding straight, hard and fast.  One second, two seconds, three seconds passed. "Folks, Lori Conti is here and ready to turn and burn." Four seconds, five seconds, six seconds went by as I concentrated and thought about running straight up the alley.  It's a long ways to the first barrel. As my sorrel gelding ran past the bulls, broncs and cowboys with their legs laced through the panel gates holding themselves steady on their perch, I barely noticed them. Seven seconds, eight seconds, nine seconds the clock ticked. "Here she comes and she wrapped that first one tight, lets get 'er going tonight!" the announcer encouraged and then the crowd erupted like someone just turned the mute off on the stereo.   Ten seconds, eleven seconds, twelve seconds, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen seconds flashed by. I was just turning the second barrel when my focus gradually faded.  I was titled to the left in my saddle pressing most of my weight into my left stirrup and that caused my horse to veer off course. I rode around the arena like I was a trick rider flopping to the left as my horse rounded the third barrel and headed for the fence.  He ran down the fence line before I noticed where we were... running around the arena like we were chasing butterflies.  The rodeo clowns spend less time in the arena than we did that night.

As I exited the arena and walked out into the dark night, I was feeling exhilarated from having the wind rush through my hair. My cheeks were damp with tears. Was that just a tear-streaking run?  The kind of fast that allows the wind to sweep the moisture right out of your eyes?  I can't remember it being that fast, but when I hear the announcement of my 19.89 second run I'm still shocked! Wow, that was really, really slow. I'll be in last place for sure. I can't be crying, can I?

I hear Kaylin's voice again.  What was it she was saying? "Mom! Why don't you just pay attention?" She was bemoaning the fact that I had just spent more time in the rodeo arena than any other barrel racer. "You are still sitting there flopped over to the left, would you sit up straight?" I could hear the frustration and anger in her voice. Is that why I'm crying?  "Get yourself some Ritalin, would you?  At least go to a doctor!" she scolded and then our eyes locked onto each others and we both just cracked up laughing; each remembering what we could of that crazy messy run.

"There. Am I straight now?" I asked her as I twisted my body way off to the left and exaggerated my floppy posture by swinging out of the saddle into a fender-drag trick riding position.  

My body was hidden by my horse's barrel for a moment and then I hoisted myself up using the hand that was holding fiercely onto the horn. I peaked over the edge of my saddle to see her shaking her head in wonder. And we laughed again. We know that we are both so blessed to be together. Living out our wildest dreams; hauling, camping and riding our horses in the grand entry.  It's just so beautiful to be barrel racing out on the rodeo road. So what if sometimes our rides are messy.

Later that summer, after a little more mess found it's way into our lives we found ourselves at Cowboy Church.  It was there that I learned the scripture Matthew 17:20 through a beautiful original song sung by the stock contractor's wife.  Her lyrics, "I had succeeded, just not by the world's definition," grabbed my attention and then her beautiful, messy testimony, her mustard seed sized faith calmed my spirit.  I carried a mustard seed in a pretty little bauble, around my neck the rest of that summer. The summer that closed with a doctor's appointment and a fall that opened with an EEG, MRI, and introduction to a neurologist. 

My neurologist's physician's assistant had the special treat of unveiling my meningioma brain tumor to my mother and me.  It was pretty beautiful when on September 11th, yes nine-eleven, my mother accompanied me to my appointment.  We were together for the first time for over 25 years in a doctor's office.  We really just wanted a "girls' day". But beautifully-together we saw the MRI picture with the big white splotch in the left frontal lobe causing the rest of my brain to shift and smoosh. The specialists described the tumor shape as a three headed mouse.  I thought it looked more like an upside down mountain.

Beginning sometime in November 2012 this mustard seed became my go-to prayer, my theme.  As I sat in waiting for my December surgery, I started developing my "Mustard Seed Gang" and was carried by prayer through this tumultuous time.  This big mess.  I made buttons and stickers for the teachers and students at school.  I gave one to my nieces and nephews, sisters and brothers to wear.  On my own childrens' buttons I had made an error when designing them.  I crossed it off with black permanent marker and fixed it.  They wore them with the big black splotch anyway.  Looking back on it, it's so "brain tumor" it's funny!  They still giggle about it today.  I wore my own pin and made one for my husband too.  Ours have a picture of a horse running through a field of mustard seed with reference to the scripture.

I felt carried by all the people who wore my pins, badges and stickers, but what really made an impact on my winter of waiting was the phone call I received from my substitute teacher. My substitute called with some questions about the classroom and supplies but mostly to explain how my Mustard Seed Gang was growing exponentially.  She told me that one of my students had asked to have a moment of silence during morning procedure time and when another student was explaining to her classmates that they could be thinking about me and my brain tumor during this time, several students dropped to their knees and clasped their hands in front of themselves.  My angelic sub told me that each day more and more students became a part of my Mustard Seed Gang and prayed for their teacher ~ me ~ and my family.

Obviously, I made it through surgery and recovery. My surgeons were able to move that mountain right out of my head.  My life cleaned up.  I was fortunate to have gone back to the job I love and even traverse the rodeo road during the summer of 2013.

And then my life got messy... again. My Messy Beautiful Life continues, but we're all happy about that.