So...I had surgery on New Year's Eve. Whoo...party! I found out late December that I needed the surgery and I knew that if I was going to do it I would have to find a way to do it before the new year started. My insurance deductible restarts in January and there was no way I could financially handle the cost if I waited until then. So my doctor (awesomely) did surgery on a day that he normally only does office visits and I spend New Years in a hospital.
This was not my first surgery. Seven years ago, when I was not quite 30 I had the same surgery. I had been having pain in my right leg for a long time. I had taken muscle relaxers and gone to physical therapy but neither had any effect so my doctor sent me for an MRI. I had a ruptured disc. We immediately scheduled surgery. The doctor told me there were a few other options but the one most likely to rid me of the pain permanently was surgery, and since I was young and fairly healthy we just went for it. Recovery sucked, though to be honest I think I have blocked the memory of most of it, but all in all it improved my life quite a bit. At the time the doctor told me that I was the youngest patient he had ever preformed that particular operation on, AND that it was one of the largest ruptures he had ever seen. Lucky me. Oh well, end of story. Right?....
Not so much. Apparently 2-10% of people RE-injur the same spot on their disc and seven years later...that is exactly what happened. This time, though, I was not so healthy. I have been struggling pretty hard core with fibromyalgia for several years now and pain is a constant companion for me. When that pain started getting so bad I feared I would lose my job I knew something had to be done. But not surgery. I did EVERYTHING else first. I did not want to have another surgery. I did not want to lose that much time at work, I did not want to pay for it, I did not want my body to have to go through with it, I did not want my parents to have to come take care of me, and most of all I did not want Michael to have to deal with it. I took pain pills. I did physical therapy. I lost 25 pounds. I had steroid injections. I just ignored the pain. None of these worked. Finally I had to give in and agree...it was time for surgery. I discussed with my doctor the two options we had. I could repeat the same surgery, which he strongly suggested. My other option was a much bigger, longer and more invasive surgery in which they would completely remove one or more of my discs and replace them with fake ones. My initial instinct was to just go ahead and get the bigger surgery over with. The doctor convinced me, however, that was not necessary at this point. Man I wish I had followed my instinct.
During surgery there were complications. There was apparently a lot more scar tissue from my first surgery present than he anticipated. While trying to scrap all of that away to get to my disc the doctor nicked my spinal fluid sac. Yeah I don't remember what its called but apparently it is a sac that holds your spinal fluid. Mine was leaking. This is NOT a good thing. The doctor (and a colleague he called in to help) was able to stitch the leak up and finish the surgery. When I woke up, however, I was informed I would need to lay FLAT on my back for a solid 24 hours to insure the stitches would not break. This is not fun. This is torture basically...especially for someone who just had surgery ON her back and a huge sore that she was now lying directly on top of. The fun didn't end there.
When the doctor came to see me the next day he explained to me that the damage to my disc was much worse than the MRI had shown. Basically if he had realized the extent of the damage he would have done the larger surgery. Having already begun the small one, however, he could not switch. The point of entry and so forth would have been totally different. I have seen him twice since then. Both times he has told me that while he hopes this surgery will give me some short term relief, the likely hood is VERY great that I will eventually have to go back in and do the larger surgery.
So...I am recovering. It is very slow going. In some ways it is much easier than last time. I can tell technology is better and I was able to get up and move around much sooner than last time. But my body is so worn out. I am exhausted...constantly. I was eager to get back to work and be a totally different person, to have a lot of energy and enthusiasm...in short to make up for the way I have been so lacking lately. My second week back on the job (only part time so far) and I find myself more lacking than ever. I have such a short temper with Michael and I hate that he is affected by my pain. I am discouraged. I know in my head that I need to give myself more time. Surgery is never easy on anyone, and for someone with fibromyalgia...well it is no surprise I am having a harder time healing and feeling well. But even though I know that I find myself unable to find any comfort in that knowing.
I am ready to feel better. I am ready to embrace life and enjoy my days. I am ready to stop emotionally eating everything I can find and then being depressed b/c I have gained so much of my lost weight back. I am ready to stop complaining all the time. I am ready to have a clean house. I am ready to go out and spend time with my friends and family.
My body...it would seem....is not.
It is just...it won't go away. The doctor we spoke to today referred to it as a "Whack a Mole" treatment plan. The cancer pops up, they cut it out, life goes on. The cancer pops up, they cut it out....etc. etc.
