Pain in the Neck, 3

I woke up, alright. I woke up in the most excruciating pain I have ever felt in my life. Ever. And I have given birth on petocin, with no epidural. I honestly looked around at these people and wondered why, in heaven’s name, they were not HELPING ME??? They gave me a little button to press and I promise you that it was a pretend button. It was attached to nothing and I was actually in a torture chamber. I do believe I whispered (I couldn’t talk because I was pretty sure they had also taken a chisel to my throat while they were in there) some not nice things to my nurse over the issue of my dry mouth and her refusing me ice chips.

The incision was on the front of my throat, and I was startled to find a tube coming out of my neck, draining…oh I can’t say it, into a little bucket.

They kept asking my pain level on a scale of 1-10 and I kept saying 100. We were in post-op for 4.5 hours. They won’t send you back to your room until they can get control of your pain. Poor Stu just sat and comforted me for hours. Feeling his hand on my forehead was like heaven. I was itchy from the drugs and he would scratch an itch anywhere. He wetted my lips with the little sponge they gave him and I just don’t know if I could ever love him more.

When we finally got to our room, yet another amazing friend made a midnight run for us for food and milkshake for me (because it was the only thing I could swallow). God bless him. It was the best thing I have ever tasted.

And then, like magic, the next morning, the coffee angels appeared.

And I said, “oh guys, you didn’t have to do that!!” And they responded that they kind of felt like thy DID have to after that fit I threw the day before on facebook. Huh.

After surgery, it still took me 2 days to pull things together. Spine surgery is no joke, apparently. I was told it is one of the more painful kinds of surgeries. I can attest to that. Many of my old muscle pains still exist and I still can’t tell what kind of relief I’m going to feel. The days in the hospital were difficult. So many friends came and sat with me, another came and spent the night so that Stu could go spend another night with B. I walked the halls, trying to get my strength up. Also, to show off my new necklace.

And Kim got coffee and played hairdresser, which I found VERY impressive!!

And for those who loved the gross chronicles, my incision (:-)):

I was admitted on Monday and discharged on Friday. I’ve been home now for 8 days. They’ve felt like the 8 longest days of my life so far.

Pain in the Neck, 2

When we arrived in our hotel room, I mean, hospital room, we actually caught our breath. We were on the top floor with a corner room. There were windows on 2 sides of the room, and the view was spectacular! Here’s what we saw:

We decided that things could certainly be worse.

The next morning we met with our surgeon. We liked him. He explained that the disc in my neck was “shot”, and that is was a very severe case. He wanted to prepare my expaectations about the pain, though. He felt that I had a couple of sources of pain, and he didn’t want to lead me to believe that this surgery would alleviate all of my pain. I found that to be very disappointing, but he explained that letting me go home would be dangerous. The disc had to be treated before we could go forward in treating any of the other pain. The procedure was called ACDF (Anterior Cervical Discectomy and Fusion). They basically took the bad disc out and replaced it with a man-made disc! I’m bionic!

That day was full of more testing. There was another catscan, x-rays, and labs. Kait brought B up to see me and this is where we found out how quickly you could get the nurses to come to your room without even calling them. Apparently children aren’t allowed on the floor. Is that not the saddest thing you’ve ever heard? Stupid flu season.

Another friend came to hang out with me that night (surgery was scheduled for the next afternoon), so I wouldn’t be lonely, since I sent Stu home to be with B. I insisted that nobody needed to spend the night with me, because I had not been operated on yet. I was still quite capable of spending the night by myself. So I thought…

Sometime around 6am, some bright-eyed nurse woke me up by flicking the lights on and poking me in the arm with a needle. No more eating or drinking for me, and this IV would provide me with the fluids I needed to stay hydrated. Uuuuummmm. Is there Starbucks in there?! I think not. I started to panick at 7. I called my own nurse. My surgery wasn’t until 2:30pm. Can’t I have my coffee?! She kind of whispered that I could, but if anyone asked, I didn’t hear it from her. But she also said that once 8:30am hits, the answer is a solid NO. Then she brought me some instant coffee and hot water. I almost passed out. WHY DID I TELL EVERYONE I DIDN’T NEED A SLEEPOVER BUDDY?!?!?! I got on facebook and began pleading. I think my status got, like, 25 “likes”. Shut the front door, people, I’m serious, the clock is ticking! No one showed. At 8:25am, I poured those stupid coffee rock things into that lukewarm water and drank it down just to avoid a withdrawal migraine. And then I chastised my friends on facebook as if they had not recently been feeding my family, keeping my child and dog, cleaning my house, decorating my Christmas tree, getting my mail, and buying my groceries. Being an addict makes you behave BADLY. Caffiene is an ugly ugly drug.

Then I got dressed, which seemed to confused all of the medical professionals. Thy kept asking where the patient was. Can I help it that I hate that nightgown? And it’s good that I got dressed, because around 1, my pre-op party began.

They got to learn about all kinds of fun personal things about me. I’m hoping Pastor can incorporate some of it into one of his sermons.

We were having so much fun that when it came time, we were completely caught offguard. They handed me gowns, and these terrible, awful compression socks that I didn’t know I would be wearing until the moment I left the hospital. Everyone came down to the pre-op room with us, and everyone really loved the id tag that they put on my in case I got misplaced.

It was very crowded in the little bitty curtained off room where we met with the anesthesiologist and the surgeon and I don’t remember who else. I loved it like that. I was kind of scared that we were going to get kicked out for rowdy behavior, though. We gathered together and prayed right before they took me back and I thanked God from the bottom of my heart for giving us all of these people to pray with us. What a gift.

The anesthesiologist gave me a shot of something that he said would make me “happy and loopy”. I was awake in the OR and it was like a party in there. I think I was a bit too alert for their taste, because after my 15th question, they put a mask on me and said, “here, breathe this in and pretend you’re at the beach.”

And I prayed that I would wake up. And He granted me that prayer. Because I did wake up.

A Pain in the Neck

The expression is getting old. It used to be cute. Because it’s literal, haha, how cute. I’m so over it. A couple of weeks ago my neurologist sent me for a catscan to see if we could figure out why I wasn’t healing from my RFA procedure. The catscan showed that my neck muscles, while they weren’t damaged or infected (which is what we were wondering) were spasming. I did know that. My neck is so stiff and the muscles are spasming to such an extent I could lose my mind. It also showed that my herniated disc had gone from being a very mild herniation (one we thought wasn’t even worth a concern) to being so severe that I was directed to see a neurosurgeon immediately. This scared me. Any doctor with the name “surgeon” in his specialty is one I’d rather avoid thankyouverymuch. Also, did you know that there is not such thing as seeing a neurosurgeon “immediately”? You can call all of their offices, and tell them that you are sitting on your couch, possibly at death’s door, and they will ask you if April of 2014 is good for you. WHAT. THE. HECK. And when you begin laughing (because in most cases, I prefer laughing to crying), they all act as if I AM THE CRAZY ONE.

I’ll fast forward. I was given the very good advice to head over to the ER of the hospital I trust the most, and hope that I could be seen by the attending neurosurgeon there. We planned well, we prayed, and a precious woman from my church drove me there early on a Monday morning. My husband wanted to go with me, but I knew that this would be a long day of waiting, and had a sneaky suspicion that he should get in whatever work he could, because I was about to really need him by my side for more important business. Praise God from whom all blessings flow, we walked into the ER of this world-renowned hospital, I explained my situation, and I never even sat my booty in the waiting room. The day was filled with tests, MRI’s, ect, lots of waiting. And in that waiting, already our dear friends were popping in with treats.

Stu came in after work, and my sweet friend, Pam, went home. She was determined to not let me be alone all day. I was pretty discouraged by this point. We had spoken to the resident neurosurgeon, and he appeared to not know what to do with me. One of the main problems is that my symptoms are not consistent with what I should be feeling with a herniated disc. I have all of this muscle pain, but not all of this nerve pain that I should be feeling. I’m confusing everyone. Just when we were starting to think we were going to be sent home with orders to take some Advil and go to PT, the ER doc came in and said they wanted to admit to the neuroscience floor. He didn’t know why exactly yet, just that the attending doctor had seen my MRI, and said that I could not go home without having surgery. Oh, well if that’s all.

So I did what any level-headed woman would do. I cried. Of course, I wanted to be treated. But the reality of not going home to my boy that night (and how many more nights?) made me so sad. And then I pulled it together.

And I called our amazing friends. How lucky are we? We have amazing friends. Just hours before I had received a text that assured me that my friend wanted to keep B if I had surgery. That she would love to. That he is not a burden to her and her family and that she loves him. How? How can a person express her gratitude to a friend like that? Another call and another dear friend gladly goes to pick up our scruffy pup. And she packed us a hospital bag. And her husband drove it up to us at midnight. Because they are awesome.

So, around midnight, they wheeled a terrified me, and my ridiculous balloons up to the 12th floor. I had no idea what was about to happen.