I guess I'll start with the MRI. On the left is a view from the left side. You can see the vertebrae, and the white spaces between them are healthy discs. See the arrow? All that darkness is the damaged disc... It's pressing against two nerves and my spinal cord. There are also signs of arthritis in the vertebrae on either side of the damaged disc.
The image on the right is a slice, from my feet looking up. The dark circle in the middle is my spinal column. The white part? That is my herniated disc. It should be inside my spinal column, cushioning my bones. But it's not. Instead, it's resting on those nerves, leaking fluid all over the place, and causing extreme pain.
So, if you're here from facebook, you already know all this. But since I'm here, where I can be a little more personal, I'm going to be more detailed.
The specialist appointment was kind of depressing.
The first thing I heard from the nurse who led me to the exam room was how young I am to have this type of injury. (Because I hadn't heard that before.) So, I sat in the exam room and waited. The PA came in. He checked my reflexes (they were good), leg strength (also good), my gait (it was okay), leg extension (we already knew that was bad), and my ability to turn my head, and lean forward and back. He seemed surprised at the strength and flexibility I still have... But I know that at one point, the physical therapists told me that my brain seems to be able to block pain well enough that sometimes I have a physical reaction to it (like breaking out in a sweat when I extend my leg) without actually feeling pain.
And again, I heard how young I am for all this to be happening.
And I wait for the specialist. For what seemed like two weeks.
He brings the images from the MRI. And he gives me three options: hurt forever, have injections that, in his opinion, won't help much if at all, or surgery to remove part of the disc (and also part of a vertebra). He wanted to do it Monday (yes, like two days from now).
And again, I heard about how young I am for this type of injury. And he asks if I was in a wreck, or fell down some stairs, or out of a tree... Basically, it was a, "What did you do to yourself?" kind of question. I'm used to them by now. I can't think of anything I've done. Not recently, anyway.
So, they send me for some x-rays. And I hear about how young I am AGAIN. At this point, it's all I can do to not just cry right there in the x-ray room. I'm tired and I hurt and I just got news that the most extreme scenario I'd imagined is happening. And I don't need to hear how effing young I am one.more.time. Seriously. Like I don't think that thought four hundred times a day.
And then I go back to schedule the surgery. I considered just leaving. Not scheduling anything, and just coming home to die. (Not literally, but maybe just curl up in a ball and cry for three days.)
The recovery papers are some of the scariest things I've seen. I mean, I know it's kind of a worst-case scenario thing, but one of them says "You should not operate any kind of motor vehicle until you are off pain medication and/or one month following surgery."
Another says "By your three-month follow-up exam, you should be able to walk for at 20 minutes, or two miles." Umm... I am on my feet all day long at work. I know I walk at least five miles a day while I'm there. Assuming it takes a full three months to recover, how long am I going to be off work? I'm pretty sure I can only claim six weeks of short-term disability, and even that I'm not sure about.
Also, this surgery is only going to relieve the nerve pain. Because of the arthritis in the vertebrae, I will probably always have some degree of lower-back pain. But you know what? I can handle that. It's the nerve pain that really bothers me. Not being able to extend my leg or bend enough to tie my shoes bothers me. Lower back pain? Not a big deal. I've had some degree of that for ten years now.
Right now, I'm still trying to process all this. I'm mad at my body for failing me over and over. Because on top of the possible PCOS, the facial hair, the long cycles, the hair that started turning gray at 23 years old... I really needed this.
And I'm mad at the Universe. I keep trying not to be, but it seems like I have one crisis after another. I feel like I'm being punished. All I want is to be healthy. I want a family. I was so freaked out by the whole appointment I didn't even think to ask how long it would be before I can consider trying to get pregnant again. Or if I will even be able to.
So, along with all the processing, I'm trying to make lists of things I need to do before this happens.
I need clothes that are easy to get into and out of.
I have to make an eye appointment so I have a pair of glasses to wear on the day of surgery--I don't want to wake up completely blind like I did when I had my wisdom teeth out.
I'm going to need ice cream or something, because they're going to put in a breathing tube for surgery and my throat is going to hurt. I'm also going to need food that's easy to make, because I don't know how long BoyWonder will be able to stay home with me, or if we can afford for him to be home for more than a few days.
I'm going to need things to do. The paperwork says that for the first several days, I'm only allowed to sit up for fifteen minutes at a time. After that, I can take five-minute walks every hour or so, and gradually work myself up to more.
And I'd like to get some more things planted in my yard.
I don't know how much of that will happen. I need the glasses. I need the food and the soft clothes. And I'm going to need books. I have a feeling I'm going to run out of time to do all of that. Is it weird that I feel like I'm preparing myself for being disabled? Or that I feel guilty for wishing so hard that I didn't have to go to Dillons every day? Like I wished this on myself?
I'm trying to be positive, but I'm terrified. I still can't actually talk about any of this without crying. And not a little bit of crying. Big, embarrassing, sobby, stuttering crying. I'm trying to tell myself that this is a good thing. An opportunity. Maybe the Universe is helping me get out of a shitty job I hate. Maybe the surgery will work and I'll feel better. Maybe I'll be able to take enough classes over the summer to get a job doing something from home. Maybe I can get my resume ready and mailed out all over the place while I'm healing.
Maybe this is a blessing in disguise. I hope so.
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