End of spring
The unbearably hard pull out bed was my constant reminder of all the times he did this for me. The lack of sleep I was already familiar with. My son said it smelled too much like hospital. I guess that's the only way yo describe this place.
We officially started Mark's Bionic Back Journey on the morning of June 3rd. It was a Monday. The Monday-est Monday that ever Monday-ed. No, really. Who the hell wants to start off their week with a large incision into their lower back to fuse to vertebrae together? I sure as shit don't wanna. I think two C-sections, a hysterectomy and a plethora of other surgeries have been a sufficient quota.
How did we get here?
Well, around January 2018, Mark threw his back out (my husband, for those of you not totally in the know). It was actually a normal occurrence in his life (and mine too, I guess). I can recall plenty of times I've had to help him into the tub or out of a chair because said back was thrown out. This time was different. It never got any better and then it was thrown out again. And again. A trip to the primary doctor a month or so later just landed X-rays and a small small small prescription for pain killers (aw, don't get me started on this opioid crisis!). X-rays are such an antiquated thing, I swear. Basically, as the usual story goes, X-rays didn't show shit. MRI was next. Ok, so MRI done and appointment with neurologist booked. Fuck, the wait to get into neuro was astronomical. This started in January 2018 and the neuro was booked for August 2018. Talk about a fucked up health care system! (AM I RITE?!?!)
OK, August comes and the neuro says we need more X-rays because this looks like a sports injury. OK, I guess a second round is a go. Also, Mark needs to see a pain clinic and go to physical therapy to get the pain under control. Fast forward a little to the pain center giving him a very large quantity of pain killers and the second neuro appointment in which X-rays are taken. The prognosis... "don't call us, we'll call you. If you don't hear from us, there's nothing wrong." OK, great. Pain killers are a go and now it's time for physical therapy.
Physical therapists prove a waste of time. PT makes everything worse. Let's see what the pain clinic suggests... Well, there's this great set of injections, followed by a nerve block to control the pain, followed by PT to cure all your troubles.
Now it's 2019 and a year has passed since the throwing out of the back. More pain, more pain killers, no word from the neuro and now a plethora of bullshit from our insurance company.
January sucks.
February sucks.
March turns around and an appointment is made for a second opinion with an orthopaedic surgeon.
April. Said appointment occurs and a CT is suggested.
May. CT confirms, without a doubt that the surgeon's hypothesis of spondylolisthesis stemming from a congenital defect in the spine is, in fact, what is going on with that thrown out back and all that pain. Mark's L5 looks like this:
It causes the spine to be unsteady on the pelvis, thus, a fuckton of pain. There are options.... pain management, the physical therapy, then surgery. Well, options one and two have already been exhausted. Surgery is the final frontier (step aside, space). ANNNNDDDD... there is a 50/50 shot of it helping. The only silver lining is that surgery WILL NOT make it worse. OK, so, can't get any worse, yet there's a shot it could be better. Fuck yeah, cut him open!
That's where we were Monday, June 3rd. A year and a half after the "beginning," we have come upon the beginning of the end. Wow, how cliché, no?
What they don't tell you about back surgery is that is get a fucking hell of a lot worse before it gets better, especially because the surgery was very successful and everything was as the surgeon had hypthesised. Yeah, they say it gets worse before it gets better, but nothing prepares you for this.
Taking care of someone after back surgery is like having a newborn. It's round the clock care to ensure meds and delivered and there is always help when getting up to walk, using this state-of-the-art walker and new, bionic back!
Really, through I complain of the lack of sleep and I'm a beast to be around today (day 5 post-op and at home for a full 24 hours with no nurse call button), it's cake. I think it keeps me going that I will have my husband back. Not that doppleganger that had as many health appointments as I did and had to smile though as much as I have had to. No one wants that. I don't wish that shit on anyone (mostly because it would also fall on the shoulders of those around you). I'm just excited for all the things the future holds for the both of us. I think this is a major 180 point for Team Avery. We have a change to really reflect on the past year and move forward being amazingly happy that we survived the storm the universe sent out way.
My kids are getting tougher. Not the kind that calluses you externally, but the kind that pushes you forward onto bigger and better things. They have tasted change and happiness and the reaching of goals and it tastes like the best tacos anyone could make, or the best dessert any prestigious baker could concoct. I'm pushing through sleepless nights because that finish line is the bacon cheeseburger to end all bacon cheeseburgers and the crowd is throwing onion rings at me all the way down. It's the proof that love conquers every fiber of your being and fills you up with every late night wake up and salty tear of perseverance. And man, do I love bacon cheeseburgers.
I'm also proud to finish a publish something after many nights of jotting down a feeling or a fleeting idea. My fingers have been itching to caress the little back Samsung keys that click to the sound of the noise in my head. It's delightful. It's bacon cheeseburgers.
It's been a long journey, although not the longest I've ever endured. I have kids, that's a life-lasting journey. We have an anniversary coming up this week. 20 years since I said it'd be cool to be your girlfriend. I guess that's a thing worth celebrating. I've lived the majority of my life with you. That's pretty fucking neat that we haven't killed each other, although I'm sure we've tried on many the occasion. You kill me with how much you love me. I mean, really. It's overwhelming, like swimming in a sea of the finest silky chocolate. I'd die a happy witch.
With that, I must turn in for the day. The day is done and the nights are long and tomorrow will be hot with a 100% chance of chilled chardonnay and possibly a steak. Sunday, the day of rest and relaxation.... unless you have chickens.
Taking care of someone after back surgery is like having a newborn. It's round the clock care to ensure meds and delivered and there is always help when getting up to walk, using this state-of-the-art walker and new, bionic back!
Really, through I complain of the lack of sleep and I'm a beast to be around today (day 5 post-op and at home for a full 24 hours with no nurse call button), it's cake. I think it keeps me going that I will have my husband back. Not that doppleganger that had as many health appointments as I did and had to smile though as much as I have had to. No one wants that. I don't wish that shit on anyone (mostly because it would also fall on the shoulders of those around you). I'm just excited for all the things the future holds for the both of us. I think this is a major 180 point for Team Avery. We have a change to really reflect on the past year and move forward being amazingly happy that we survived the storm the universe sent out way.
My kids are getting tougher. Not the kind that calluses you externally, but the kind that pushes you forward onto bigger and better things. They have tasted change and happiness and the reaching of goals and it tastes like the best tacos anyone could make, or the best dessert any prestigious baker could concoct. I'm pushing through sleepless nights because that finish line is the bacon cheeseburger to end all bacon cheeseburgers and the crowd is throwing onion rings at me all the way down. It's the proof that love conquers every fiber of your being and fills you up with every late night wake up and salty tear of perseverance. And man, do I love bacon cheeseburgers.
I'm also proud to finish a publish something after many nights of jotting down a feeling or a fleeting idea. My fingers have been itching to caress the little back Samsung keys that click to the sound of the noise in my head. It's delightful. It's bacon cheeseburgers.
It's been a long journey, although not the longest I've ever endured. I have kids, that's a life-lasting journey. We have an anniversary coming up this week. 20 years since I said it'd be cool to be your girlfriend. I guess that's a thing worth celebrating. I've lived the majority of my life with you. That's pretty fucking neat that we haven't killed each other, although I'm sure we've tried on many the occasion. You kill me with how much you love me. I mean, really. It's overwhelming, like swimming in a sea of the finest silky chocolate. I'd die a happy witch.
With that, I must turn in for the day. The day is done and the nights are long and tomorrow will be hot with a 100% chance of chilled chardonnay and possibly a steak. Sunday, the day of rest and relaxation.... unless you have chickens.
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