Tuesday, April 8, 2014

The Aftermath: Birthing New Fears to Face

Today I saw my back surgeon for my 9 month post operative follow up. If you're new to my blog, and not really familiar with me, just to catch you up I have a few spinal diseases, amongst which is Scoliosis. In 1988 I had my spine fused to correct a pretty groovy "S" curvature. I had about 12 good years after that before pain returned. Over the past 14 years pain worsened, and I spent a lot of time waiting to see a specialist, then going for tests and consults.

Finally last January (2013) I had a Lumbar revision operation, basically I had worn a part of my lower spine vertebrae down to the nubs, as the discs were rubbing against each other with every step I took, so my surgeon removed my previous metal rods, and spent about 8 hours packing, shoring up, and fusing my lower spine as best as he could. There were complications, among which was a spinal fluid leak, and the temporary paralysis of both my arms for a few days post operatively (due to a Brachial Plexus nerve injury while in surgery, which to this day remains a mystery to everyone). A few months later I went in for follow up, and my surgeon immediately knew something was wrong as I was stooped forward more drastically than before my revision surgery, and the xrays evidenced a broken vertebra in the middle of my spine, at the T11 disc. In July of 2013 I went in and had all the hardware removed, and was fused from T2 (just below the neck) to my sacro iliac joints, at the pelvis.



This is what my spine looks like now

After the big surgery in July (which also took over 8 hours to carry through) I experienced some major setbacks. I ended up back in hospital a few weeks after discharge, completely incapable of moving due to the most crippling pain I had ever experienced. I spent a week in hospital, and was then sent home where I was given a hospital bed, and a daily nurse to come assist me with anything I needed help with; which was pretty much everything! Autumn of 2013 truly sucked. I spent most of it immobile and in pain, and when I did move around it was slowly, with a walker, and very unsteadily. 

I knew going into this huge surgery that it would change my life in every way, I knew in advance it would inhibit my ability to bend, and that things like putting on my own socks would be a thing of the past. When you have metal fusing your spine all the way down to your pelvic wall, the only way to bend down is via the hips, and the knees. My hips are arthritic, and so are my knees. And I just don't have the range of motion necessary to "go there", so anything shin height and lower is off limits to me. My family have been really good about picking up where I cannot, but it still has it's humiliating moments.

It's been nine months since the big surgery, and the healing process is only halfway done, as with a job this big my surgeon believes it will take upwards of two full years for all the bones to completely knit together, for the fusions to graft onto bone and become one with it. So for now my hardware is held in place by those long screws in the xray above, eventually the screws will be strengthened by my own bone as it hardens and calcifies over the rod attachments. What this means for me: I am still restricted in many ways. While I can now pick up a box of say 10 pounds weight, anything heavier could spell trouble for my spine, so I have to avoid heavy lifting. 

So based on what I've just shared, I'm sure you can imagine the state of my home at this point in time?

I used to be pretty OCD about cleaning. I enjoyed cleaning, it was a meditative time for me, where I could lose myself in the task, let my mind wander, listen to music, and give my home a sense of renewal and cleansed energy. Even as my mobility declined over the last few years due to pain, I still would have days where I would just go nuts, and spend a few hours cleaning from top to bottom, knowing I'd suffer for a few days afterwards, but feeling good just to get it done. 

Now, you wouldn't recognize my place. The tumble weeds of dust and cat hair you would first meet in the front hall are large enough to be mistaken for actual cats :) And baseboards? Never again... Gone are the days of scrubbing a floor on my hands and knees to get it to sparkle. Everything in my house from shin level down is pretty effed up. My husband and daughter do what they can, but come on, let's face it, no one will ever clean to my standards. I am a control freak in this way, and while I SO appreciate it when they clean something, or run the vacuum, or mop, a part of me deep within feels self pity, because I want to be the one doing the cleaning.

Makes me feel like a whiny little ingrate, as honestly I know my surgeon gave me a second chance at a good life, my next decade will hopefully be spent gaining strength, enjoying my legs, as I walk, knowing how close I came to spending my life in a wheel chair. And while the wheel chair may be in my future anyway, for now I am so thrilled to have this new lease on life! So when I bitch about what I cannot do, I feel guilty. Like really really guilty.

I have been aware of these feelings for months, as they started brewing long before last years surgeries; my ability to clean like a diva had been dwindling for a few years due to pain. But in the last week I've had to face a new fact head on, something I wasn't really up to recognizing, though it's been pretty plain to see I guess; I've developed a whole new set of anxieties and fears.

Anyone who knows me knows I have panic disorder, and have grappled with it head on for well over a decade now, since my child was one, and she is now fourteen. I have learned to face my fears, to expose them to the light of honesty in order to understand them, and not let them overpower me. But last year really traumatized me, and while I spent so much time being strong, and just digging in my heels and going with the flow of everything as it happened TO me, I was developing deep seeded fears within me about my health, longevity, and my own body.

I do not trust my body. And that is a painful truth to admit. It has let me down, due to it's frailty, the skeletal issues I have alone are cause for fear, not to mention the chemical issues related to panic, and menopause. 

To be blunt; I've come to fear my own health. So I have found it easier and safer to just avoid life.

And you would think admitting that is some cathartic weight-off-my-shoulders epiphany; but it isn't. It's just more sour grapes. 

So while I'm aware of all the blessings my new spine has brought into my life, it has also led to the growth of several pretty paranoid fears. And I know I need to nip them before I develop full blown agoraphobia. Again.

So that's where I'm at today. It's bitter sweet, as I am so glad to have seen my surgeon today, so relieved to know that at this point in time all my hardware is in place, where it should be, it all looks good. And yet I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. Not consciously, but somewhere deep, and vulnerable within me; I'm just waiting for the next big crap pile of bad news, the next big surgery, the next big crisis.

And now I'm going to go have a good cry and try to figure out how to come to terms with all that!

If you hung in through this blog entry to the end, thank you; for caring, for embarking on the journey with me, and for allowing me a space in which to get really uncomfortably honest.






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