You might have read on the Lucky Break Facebook page or through my newsletter that I recently underwent surgery for a cranial tumor. I’ve been completely overwhelmed (in the best way possible) with the incredible support this community has shown! Today, I am officially nine days post-op and I wanted to share both an update + some meditations…

The History:

I battled a benign tumor in my mastoid cavity (the mostly-hollow cranial cavity directly behind the ear) eight years ago. It required surgical removal and it took most of my hearing in that ear right along with it. During the same surgery, the doctor took tiny fragments from my skull and used diamond burrs to craft new ear bones. Groovy, right? Except that it didn’t work. Valiant effort, but they collapsed as my ear healed. I’ve worn a hearing aid ever since and I’ve gotten on pretty well.

In February of this year, I developed a rather nasty ear infection that I couldn’t seem to clear. That lead to the discovery that Le Tumor was Le Back in April. Rats! I worked my way up the medical food chain since this operation was going to be a bit more delicate + specialized, and I eventually ended up at the Medical University of South Carolina in Charleston, being treated by  the chairman of the Otolaryngology Department. He’s rumored to be the absolute top surgeon working on head + neck tumors in the state and he sweet talked me into letting him go in after the beast.

The surgery was performed June 11th. The plan was to extract the tumor (which we already knew was benign- hooray!), perform a skin graft to build a new ear drum and implant titanium ear bones in the hopes of restoring my hearing. I was totally down with the idea of being one step closer to the Bionic Woman…

The Final Tally of Damages:

The tumor was more extensive + invasive than initially anticipated. It took quite a bit of work to get it out of there, but the surgeon is confident that he did it. The type of tumor I had is slow-growing and benign but insidious. If a single cell remains after the surgery, then it will be back. If you pray, I ask that you pray that every last cell of the mf’er is gone.

Because of the complexity and length of the surgery, the titanium implants were not a possibility this round. However, another surgery has been ordered for later this year that will go back through the same incision and look to see that the tumor is not regenerating. If it’s not, I’ll get the implants and be on my way. If it is, they’ll essentially remove my ear. Clear everything out, remove my ear canal and declare the hearing a permanent loss. On the upside, it means the tumor can’t really regenerate either.

The facial nerve was saved (hooray!) The protective bone over it was eroded beyond the ability of the surgeon to repair, so although we’ll need to keep an eye on it, I do not suffer from any facial paralysis. Which is super-cool because I was really, really dreading that gig. But the doctor did prescribe me some of the best 2 week daily disposables for my eyes, and told me to expect some migraines for some time.

All in all, I have a 4” long incision that mostly traces + is tucked behind my ear.  There are more than 40 stitches in my scalp at the moment, but my mound of curls will eventually hide the scars (hooray for curls, right?). The surgical staff ultimately had to shave very little hair so I’ll most likely skip the Rihanna-mohawk-look I was contemplating. She wears it better than I would have anyway.

I’m still struggling with solid food. I’m more deaf than I ever have been. I’m utterly exhausted. I have a limited range of motion with my neck, can’t open my mouth very wide and cry every time I sneeze or cough. My husband reminds me often than this will all pass in a few weeks. I glare at him and tell him that he better be right, but I secretly know that he is.

The Lessons:

I’ve been meditating on entrepreneurship + obstacles as I lay in this bed and I’ve reached a few conclusions I’d like to share. I hope you’ll indulge me for a moment.

1. I needed to slow down. You might need to as well. I run three companies + a household and manage four kids. This company, in particular, is still in the voraciously time-hungry startup mode.  I’d been burning the candle at both ends for the first half of 2014, packing in: seventeen trips, four multi-week webinars, an intensive eight-week wholesale program, launching a service to create line sheets + order forms for other makers, managing two new team members here at Lucky Break, completely redesigning + relaunching our software which empowers makers to successfully price their products, along with designing an innovative (but ridiculously intensive) new live event series. Oh, and a total rebrand, too. (Shhhh… that’s the first time I’ve mentioned it publicly. It’s beautiful, though, and I’ll reveal it in a few month’s time).

All of that… in a five month time frame. That was entirely too much to put on my plate. I’m passionate about what I do, so I have a tendency to throw myself into work + overload myself. Many of my clients suffer from this same syndrome.

The neglect of myself eventually reared its head by showing up in my health. No, it wasn’t the source of the tumor, but it certainly exacerbated matters and made the tumor itself a much heavier mental load than it had to be. As surgery of this magnitude has forced me to slow down, I realized how much I desperately needed to slow down, tumor or not. I am my business. If I can’t perform, what then? You are likely your business, too.  Take good care of you.

2. Entrepreneurship really is the greatest damn thing ever. I’ve been a maker for 10 years now, so that’s not a new revelation for me, but this experience served as a fantastic reminder.

I’ve been thinking about what it would have been like if I had to ask a boss for time off and they told me I couldn’t take the time I needed to recover. What would have happened then? I’m my own boss and, thankfully, I have the luxury of taking all the time I need,  without fear of repercussion upon my return.

I’ve been thinking about how blessed I am to be in the driver’s seat of my income as an entrepreneur. Taking several weeks off means my income largely grinds to a halt for a time. This surgery was insanely expensive and I cut a check with lots of zeroes attached to it, even after insurance had carried the bulk. If I had been in a traditional job, that lost income would be lost forever and I likely would have wept as I cut that check. But because of the revenue my entrepreneurship has provided, the check was less painful than it otherwise might have been. I can also afford to travel back + forth to another city to enlist the best surgeon in the state and fly my child to visit friends so she could be shielded from some of this emotional trauma. I can afford to have my housekeeper here washing the linens + chasing the dust bunnies while I’m in Charleston having the surgery. I can vouch that the fresh sheets I crawled into when I finally came home were the softest, best-smelling sheets in the history of ever.  And as for that lost income? I’ll simply double-down on my hustle and make it up next month.

I’ve also been thinking about how broken-single-mama-Lela of eleven years ago would have reacted to this tumor. There are a few scenarios I’ve run through my head but none of them are particularly pretty. The trials + tribulations, the joys + victories of running my business and using that as a platform to build a life I love have empowered me more than I can articulate. Sure… I’ve been worried. I’ve cried. I’ve spent unmentionable hours soaking in hot baths. But I’ve never doubted that this would ultimately be okay. That I could beat this tumor and emerge from the experience ever stronger. And I know that I owe that confidence to entrepreneurship. Aside from motherhood, entrepreneurship has been the single most transformative experience of my life.

3. Nothing but death can steal my passion. Truly. I’ve had a tough few months of worrying and waiting and undergoing tests and making plans and the whole damn ordeal has been exhausting on a massive scale. But all of that has done NOTHING to quell my passion to help creative entrepreneurs build the empire of their dreams. If anything, it’s re-energized me. I’ve doubled-and-tripled down my dedication to the cause. I’m doing-cartwheels-excited to welcome a fourth member to the Lucky Break team (full-time, baby!) next month, and one of her top priorities is managing both my schedule and my project list with greater elegance.

Because in the midst of this storm, I realized how much more I want do and how much more I want to give. I need to tweak how that happens, but I’m incredibly confident that this new team member will help me do that. The tumor didn’t kill my passion, it fed it. And I know that someone (one day… far, far into the future) will have to pry the chalk, sewing needle, scissors, whisk, ink, and clay out of the cold, dead hands of my clients. Because we’re all incredibly passionate about what we do. And once our passion is sufficiently harnessed + focused, the world better watch the hell out.

So good riddance tumor, and don’t let the door hit you in the ass! The second half of this tumor-free year is going to yield a tsunami of creative goodness: live webinars on protecting intellectual property, romancing the press, and doing good while doing business will be back this fall. The fourth round of my competely-sold-out-in-less-than-48-hours “how to wholesale” program kicks off in just under 3 weeks. I’m throwing a brand new kind of party for makers in Atlanta this fall, the likes of which I guarantee you’ve never seen. Welcoming that new team member, rebranding this company and lots of other as-yet-unrevealed plans.

Heaps + Heaps of Gratitude:

I owe an awful lot of thank you’s…

My sweet Mister washed my hair and rubbed my back as I cried and set alarms to make certain that Lortabs were administered every 4 hours on the dot. He is, without a doubt, the most patient and loyal man I know and I could not do life without him.

My mom spent a week in my guest room, letting my dogs out 87 times a day, washing the dishes, cutting watermelon into tiny pieces so I could suck on it and making sure all the flowers were watered. The last week ran so much smoother because of her presence + graciousness.

My dearest friend Sara hosted my youngest daughter in Indianapolis, so my kiddo could enjoy a week with her pals without watching her mom suffer.  It was a gift not to worry about her and for her not to worry about me. Sixteen years of friendship and she’s been there for me through all of life’s up’s + down’s.

Countless friends sent flowers. Stopped by with cake. Texted their support. Called to see if my family needed anything.  Thank you all so, so much. I hope you’ll call on me to return the favor when you find yourself in need.

Clients graciously let us “pause” their projects for a couple of weeks. Consults were rescheduled.  And hundreds of messages poured in through social media. I’m blessed to have such an amazing community! I count you all as rockstars and felt the good juju throughout this ordeal. Your patience has humbled me. I’ll be back in action soon. xo