Anyone who knows me knows that I have not kept my body up.  I was a weight-lifter in high school, took yoga at the junior college, and that was pretty much it.  It will be two years ago July that everything changed, and I realized how much I could have been doing.  You know how they say you have to lose something to really appreciate what you have?  Well, that happened, in a manner of speaking.  I will have to start from the beginning, and I apologize.  This may be longer than I anticipate…It is my story and personal experience with a C-Spine fusion.

For no apparent reason, one of my C-Spine discs herniated.  What does that mean?  Well, it meant that I needed to have a spinal fusion (anterior cervical discectomy) that entailed a silicone-type implant, titanium plate and screws, and the end of everything I loved to do.  NEVER in my life have I experienced that kind of physical pain.  I had taken a nap.  My neck was a little stiff, but nothing out of the ordinary.  When I woke up I was in the worst pain imaginable.  The left side of my neck and shoulder were in so much pain I couldn’t move them.  The only way I was the least bit comfortable was to have my left arm up with my hand touching my shoulder.  My elbow was up in the air, and I can’t imagine what it looked like to others.  The top of my arm from the elbow down was (and still is) hyper-sensitive to wind, cold, and pretty much anything that touches it.  I had numbness as well, and my left thumb is still a bit numb.  It may take awhile for all of the feeling to come back; or it may never.  Just have to wait and see.  It was such a feeling of helplessness because I couldn’t shower on my own and needed help getting dressed.  You wouldn’t think that something affecting that area would have an impact on everything else, but it does.  Unless you go through it or something similar, there is absolutely no way to describe it.  I am a very independent person, so needing someone to help me was difficult to admit. 

Anyway, I went to a chiropractor hoping it wasn’t as bad as I had feared.  He recommended that I get an MRI right away, and so I did.  Originally I had gone to my GP’s office.  She happened to be out of town so I saw her fill-in.  He said it was probably just a pinched nerve and that it would work itself out.  He prescribed some anti-inflammatory meds, and I went on my way.  At the advice of the chiropractor I get the MRI done, and then go see a neurosurgeon.  He takes a look and says, “Well, I’ve got good new and bad news.  The good new is, I can fix it.  The bad new is, it’ll require surgery.”  At that point, I had been in so much pain I would’ve had the surgery then and there if I could.  He asked if I was taking any meds, and when I told him I was and what they were, he said, “I don’t know how you are sitting here.  The medications you are on are anti-inflammatories and won’t do anything for what you have.”  He then prescribed some pain meds, but I got them just a few days before surgery.  I figured I had been so long without them, what’s the point in taking them right before?  But I did, and that was the best sleep I had had in ages!  I couldn’t even feel the pain.  I had asked about limitations, and he said none, really…of course that all changed after I had the surgery.  Did I mention that they have no clue what caused the disc herniation?

Image courtesy of Doctor Stock

So, my surgery date arrived, and by that time it was just about a month or so.  I can’t imagine what it is like for those who have herniated discs for years without surgery.  I was slowly getting used to the pain, but it is something that nobody should ever have to go through.  Sorry, back to the surgery date.  I arrive and am waiting in the bed when in walks the Chaplain.  I thought to myself, “I hope this isn’t a sign…” and he asked if it would be alright to say a prayer for me.  Personally, I am not religious, but my family sort of is.  Of course I said it would be alright.  It definitely wouldn’t hurt anything.  All I could think about was feeling better.  The nurse came to get me, and was late…there’s always something.  I get down to the pre-op area and they give me some injection that is supposed to relax the body, but it didn’t work.  I said what I needed to to my folks and other loved ones who had come to the hospital, and my neurosurgeon walked in.  He had never smiled before that day.  He clapped his hands together and said, “Are you ready?”.  “Oh yes,” I responded.  I was wheeled into the OR where I was met with the team I was trusting with my life while I was under.  All I can remember thinking was (1) everything is so white, (2) these lights are killing my eyes, and (3) why are they all staring at me?  The anesthesiologist gave me the mask to breathe in to and I knocked out incredibly fast.  I woke up to the sound of one of my nurses yelling in a thick Filipino accent, “It’s time to wake up!  You need to get up!”  Mind you, this is an outpatient procedure.  Well, I didn’t get up…I had a bad reaction to the anesthetic.  I could hear her, and told her that I wasn’t deaf.  Yelling at me just made me want to ignore her…but I couldn’t really speak.  I also had no filter, and I’m pretty sure I told her to f**k off.

This was taken less than 24 hours after surgery.

This was taken on Day 6, post-op.

I can remember having a conversation with my folks, feeling my eyes roll to the back of my head, then waking up and continuing the conversation.  I thought that only a few seconds had passed every time that happened, but it was actually 20+ minutes!  My dad has asked if I could move my arm, and when I did without any pain, I thought I was going to cry…and I never c
ry unless I’m at a funeral.  Later on, a different nurse came in to check on me.  She was significantly better than the one who kept yelling.  She gave me a shot of Benadryl and it was like flipping a switch.  I was alert and no longer nauseated (every time I moved I thought I was going to vomit).  My dad was incredibly relieved.  My mom was too, but she didn’t show it in the same way.  At 7pm, just after the Benadryl, they decided that I should stay overnight, which ended up to be a good thing.  I had a fever, and the nursing staff in the overnight area couldn’t have been better.  I did, however, hear a nurse say, “Well, she wasn’t even supposed to be here.  She was supposed to be outpatient,” as if she was pissed that I was taking up space.  How was I to know I would react poorly?  It was my first (and hopefully last) surgery.                 

I was discharged the following morning and couldn’t wait to get home and sleep.  I wanted to keep my disc–it came out looking like ground turkey, apparently, but I couldn’t unless I wanted to pay a pathologist to verify that it was, in fact, from my body.  In hindsight I should have at least gotten it on video.  Yes, I would have liked to have seen it.  It took about a week for me to be able to swallow anything without pain— the breathing tube really affected that; oh, and I couldn’t talk for a few days.  I was in a soft collar for about a month.  It was mostly for sleeping, car rides, and outings, so hopefully people wouldn’t bump into me.  Driving was a no-no for about two months, and it took awhile for me to get used to driving again.  Today, I can tell you that the cold wreaks havoc on my neck because of the metal plate, and there are times when I really wish I had known then what I know now.  I definitely would have done some things differently.      

It is hard to explain to people how things will be, including what I can and cannot do, because they assume that everything will be back to normal.  While surgery fixed the problem, it limited a ton of activities.  I read several forums before and after surgery.  I wanted to know what others went through, what they still participated in, and how they accepted their new limitation(s).  Granted it wasn’t as major as say, an amputation.  The thing is, it is still something that affects me every day.  I have to have any computer I work on at eye level, so I bought a laptop stand, and adjusted all of my monitors.  No more roller coasters or anything that could cause whiplash; no more ATVs, quads, rafting, bumper cars, etc.  Those of you who know me know that I love Disneyland, and there are very few attractions I can go on.  A few months after surgery, I came to the realization that I wouldn’t be able to do all of the things I wanted to with my nephew or my (future) adopted kids.  I broke down, and cried like a baby.  My nephew is young and asks if I can do certain things when my neck get all better–it’s hard to tell him that I can’t even though my neck was as good as it’s going to get after surgery.  I know there are people who continue to do all of these things who have had one or more areas fused, but it’s just not worth the risk.  Is it worth paralysis, another surgery, or death?  I don’t think so.

I coped with this by talking it out with people who had had similar experiences.  I was lucky to have such a support network, and couldn’t ask for better friends.  You really find out who you friends are when you go through something like this.  I decided that I would take as much advantage as I could, accept the negative, and try to find something positive.  It was easy for everyone to say that I would find a replacement for the things I loved to do regarding activities.  My thing was, if I didn’t like something before, I can’t be forced into liking it because I have no other option.  I am so grateful that things weren’t worse than they already were.

I do want to take this time to thank you. of you are still reading this.  I haven’t really gone into detail like this at all, which is probably why this is turning into a novel.  You’re probably wondering what this has to do with wellness.  Well, this fusion changed my life, and I have had to find new ways to make my life as happy and healthy as I can, both physically and mentally.  Through the help of friends, family, and a regimen I created that includes yoga and hiking, I am able to have a much more positive outlook on the future, and stay connected to the present.