The Road to Recovery...

First off, I like to think that I've been fairly lucky health-wise in my life.  My family is by no means perfect, and I have been plagued with some issues throughout, but for the most part, things haven't been so bad.  I'd never had my tonsils or appendix out, I've never had a cavity, braces, or any dental work, never broke any bones (save for a severely sprained ankle back in middle school). I guess I just lived in denial that despite all of the procedures that my family has had over the years, I've been the lucky one.  I've never had to go under anesthesia, or get cut open and I counted my blessings for this.

Several years ago, I had a cyst drained from my back, and at the time, it was the most horrific pain.  So much that I never went back for them to stitch it up.  It was right smack in the middle of my back and as long at the cyst was gone, I was not about to subject myself to any more pain unless it was necessary.  And it wasn't.

My family has back problems.  My dad had an injury to his back when he was younger, had surgery.  Years ago my sister had severe back pain and was thrown into emergency surgery.  Why I thought I could avoid this, is beyond me.

Several months ago, I was down in Maryland, out with Chad and his friend. We had just left the Goodwill, which, with Chad is a task in itself.  But as I stepped off the curb and towards the parking lot, something went awry. I couldn't stand up straight, my back/leg was killing me. The worst part was that I was a good seven hour drive from home, so I called my doctor and was told the only thing I could really do would be to take some over the counter pain meds and see the doctor when I got home.

That seven hour drive was hell, but I made it.  And, over time, my back went back to it's normal self.  That is, until the weekend before my birthday.

Sunday morning, I was gearing up to make some mean scrambled eggs, bent down to grab the bowl from the cupboard, and felt something pull in my back.  It wasn't horrific, but something was definitely off.  That week I called into work one day due to the discomfort, but things seemed to be clearing up just fine on their own.

That next Saturday, I felt great! Sunday morning, Chad, Lynda, Steve and I went out to a fancy brunch as a belated birthday celebration for myself.  Low and behold, sliding out of the booth one of the last times, there it was again. Horrible, horrible back pain.  I could barely walk, standing up straight was completely out of the question.  We had other stuff planned to get done that day, so we headed home to lay down and hopefully a little rest would clear things up.

It no longer looks or feels like this! SUCCESS!!

WRONG.

The pain was completely down my leg, worse than I had ever experienced before. I could barely move, I was sobbing in pain.  Called my doctor, was told to go to urgent care.  I barely made it in and out of Chad's car, had to stand to fill out paperwork, and within minutes of the urgent care doctor seeing me, she had a note taking me out of work for the week and a diagnosis of a herniated disk.

They injected me with dilaudid, which was the worst, because it made me so lightheaded and spew not once, but twice (which is fun when your back is already feeling strained).

And so the fun really began, I was given prescriptions for valium and vicodin (mind you that up to this point, the strongest pain killer I'd ever taken was aleve). I had several lengthy phone conversations with my doctor about our next step.  In the past, the back pain had eased down on it's own within a few days, so we agreed that if there was no improvement, we'd take things from there.

Wednseday came and I seriously felt I was dying.  I wanted someone to come hack my leg off with a saw, or any dull or sharp object really.  It didn't matter. All I did was sob in pain. The nurse from my doctor's office called me and said "you're going to get an mri at 8 tonight at the hospital and you have an appointment with a neurosurgeon on Friday."

Okay, I'm sorry - what? A neurosurgeon? I insistently denied any desire for surgery, but went anyway.  The MRI nearly killed me, well at least having to lay on my back and getting up afterwards. They wanted to admit me to manage the pain, but I'm stubborn, and  I had just taken my prescriptions to take the edge off. I just wanted to go home.

So Friday came, met with my neurosurgeon, who told me I either get a laminectomy - where they cut away the piece of the disc causing the pressure, or I see how much longer I can manage with pain meds and hope it resolves on its own.  I opted for the latter.

Later that evening, I get a phone call from his office confirming a pre-op appointment for Monday, and surgery for Wednesday.  I was beyond terrified, angry, pissed off, you name it. It was too late to cancel for Monday so I left a very aggravated message on their machine.

However, my mother made it very clear - this may be my only option.  Monday morning, I called and asked for the pre op back. They put me in for Tuesday, and surgery still for Wednesday.  Now it was bad enough that I already had been an emotional and physical wreck, but surgery put me over the edge. I couldn't hold a conversation without drowning in tears.

Going in to pre-op, I cried the whole time. I told everyone how scared I was. I'd never been in the hospital before.

The next day was even worse. I spent all morning crying in pain and terrified of what was going to take place over the next few hours. What if I don't wake up? What if they find more things that need to be fixed? What if I end up paralyzed? You name it, it went through my head. I don't have anxiety about too much in my life, but this took the cake. I nearly passed out when they were prepping me with iv's. They had me in the holding area sobbing in pain until they gave me something to take the edge off, I had Chad, my mom and my sister with me, and they did not leave my side until they had to.  I was beyond a complete disaster. I remember going into the operating room, putting the mask on and falling asleep.  Waking up was traumatic, I remember throwing up and frantically asking for my mother. I was so confused and shaken. For a minute I'd forgot where I was or what was even going on.

Getting up to my room and the process of waking up was weird, but I was starving and couldn't wait to get some food in me. First thing I ate was chicken soup, and I couldn't have cared less! So right then, right out the window - there went my non meat eating ways.  So now it's safe to say I'm no longer a vegetarian.

I received some amazing care while at Rochester General.  Each nurse/care tech was pleasant and provided me with everything I possibly needed.  I'm glad I only needed one night there though. It's going to be a long road ahead, and the tough part is just beginning.

This whole situation has been a wake up call to become a better, healthier, happier me.  I have to relearn and retrain my habits, my personality.  It's scary how quickly something like this changes you.  You can't run away from it.  I still cry a lot. I have a lot of aching in my back, but if nothing else, this surgery gave me the luckiest of wake up calls - some of which people get too late.

I'm in a huge transition right now. Everything still hurts to move, but I'm doing what I can to heal. I will say though, the incision looks so gross, I'm glad it's on my back and I don't have to keep staring at it.