Can and Cannot

I'm just over three weeks post-op. Three weeks ago I basically could not do anything by myself. Here is a brief list of things that I now can do and those things that still frustrate me because I cannot do them. I'm sure with my progress the "cannot" list will diminish.

Cannot:
Turn on the bathroom faucet
Flush the toilet without using my cane
Wash my own hair
Get up and into bed by myself
Drink without a straw
Sleep longer than 2 hours
Laugh because it hurts so badly that it makes me cry
Wear more than my three comfy surgery outfits
This list would be a lot longer if I included everything I can't do that I had already expected, but why bother adding all of those?

Can:
I got in a car and rode 5 minutes to the mall for the Bath and Bodyworks Semi-Annual Sale!!!!! Woo hoo. The car ride hurt, but was so much easier than the car ride home from the hospital. I wouldn't do it everyday, but it was LOVELY to get outside for a little bit!

Reach the bathroom faucet (but not turn it on)
Take my robe off and put it on by myself
Move my tray table
Eat ice cream
It is easier to turn myself over on the bed
Sit up a lot longer
Type at the computer
Walking a bit faster
Walk around the house without my cane
Touch the top of my head and sort of brush my hair
Eat ice cream (yes, I know I already wrote that, but now you see how important it is to me) :)
Hold up a magazine to read it
Ingest less pain medicine
Walk almost the length of the park (no one really knows what it means, but trust me, it is a lot longer than I could walk one week ago)
Sleep a little better
Bend my head forward and to the sides a little bit more
I'm sure there is more, but it is now time for dinner! :)

Nerves waking up

I feel very grateful that my left leg is waking up, but nerves waking up are quite painful. I had no idea. I wouldn't say that the pain is worse than that in my back, but I guess I have to go through the pain to get my feeling back. That is worth it.

I'm back on the blog

Hi friends!

I've decided to sit up and try doing a bit of blogging. I'm glad to see that my husband kept everyone up-to-date on the surgery. He has been a wonderful help, as many of you recognized.

I'm now almost three weeks post-op and have made much progress. I'm still in constant pain, but am doing small new things everyday (such as putting in my contacts)! Woo hoo. I ended up staying in the hospital for 10 days, most of which I was unable to eat any solid foods because I had a paralytic illis (sp?). There was one awful day in which they wheeled me around from ward to ward running tests and trying to get my digestion to wake up again. Needless to say, it was one the times I remember constantly screaming on the tables as they performed these tests. Honestly, I do not remember a whole lot from the first few days, but according to my mother and husband, that is for the best. Mom said often it was like watching her daughter being tortured, but now we're slowly starting to see the positive results. I could not have done this without my family by my side constantly.

In general, my hospital visit was ok. All of the nurses were pleasant, except one who came in trying to fake a British accent because my mother is British and he was really pissing me off as I was literally trying not to throw up. There were a few night nurses who obviously were not skilled in log rolling and were very rough with me. Many of the nurses said they wished that the last person on shift would write notes down about their experiences with me because each one came in fairly clueless about what I had been through.

I'm fairly comfortable at home now. I'm increasing my walking each day and am currently walking about 1/2 mile per day. I'm sitting longer, but in between each activity, I have to go lay down and rest. I'm thrilled that I get to shower now, although I can't reach my head yet, so my husband still has to help. I've also learned that my walking cane comes in handy for flushing the toilet since I can't reach that either.

I've used my cane to walk outside because I have to descend my stairs and I just feel more comfortable because I still lose my balance once in a while. It is amazing to see how people treat you differently though, especially when you look young and are walking with a cane at the grand speed of 1 mile per hour (maybe). I have to say though, people do move out of your way, which is what I want at the moment. I don't want crazy kids on bikes crashing into me on the sidewalk. They are not supposed to be riding there anyway.

Well, I'm about out of energy to keep sitting, but the recovery is full of ups and downs, but luckily more ups as of late. However, I get really sharp pains in between my shoulder blades when I move my arms in certain positions. I don't know what that is about, but I guess that everything is just readjusting to their new positions.

I'll be back more frequently. Thank you to all who have commented and helped me through this process. I'll eventually post some before and after pictures, but right now I'm too nervous to look at my scar.

Home sweet home

We are finally back home after what seems like an eternity in the hospital (9 days). The old computer battery is running out so I'll spare the tales of digestive woe of the past week; suffice it to say that they kept Anya from getting out of the hospital a good two days earlier than she actually ended up. After many unpleasant attempts at jump-starting the system, it finally awoke to some extent and allowed her some old solid standbys: toast, crackers, fruit, etc.

The return home has been one of muted joy. On the one hand we recognize that the return is a huge step - one that says she's presumably well enough and we're responsible enough that she can go without the constant supervision of health-care professionals . . . On the other hand, it's difficult to re-adjust to what should be a familiar environment but no longer is. It was a difficult transition back because we had to re-discover "comfortable" positions in which to sit and lay, positions that we'd gotten down to a routine in the hospital but had to re-invent in the context of the house. Needless to say this caused quite a bit of pain, consternation, and frustration for all parties, particularly after the stress of the ride home from the hospital on a bumpy road (every crack in the concrete felt by the poor girl's back) and a rigorous climb up about 20 steps to the house. Even in the eight hours we've been home, though, things have started to get a little more comfortable . . . hopefully they will continue promisingly.

Seeing the one you love in pain that can only minutely be controlled is an absolutely awful, crushing feeling; this was the feeling at some points today when no positioning on the bed or the chairs was working correctly, as the pain medication was wearing off, as the stress of the trip home caught up. Seeing her awareness of the pain and the frustration of it all and the questioning of whether this was the right course (who wouldn't?) hurts too, as does the knowledge that your own ignorance of such pain, your own cluelessness about what to do to make it better, only adds to both frustrations. It is sometimes hard to keep the long-term in perspective when such suffering occurs in the short-term, but frankly it's our only hope. I think back on the lifetime of pain Anya's suffered thus far - even from something as innocuous as going to the grocery store - and hope that this incredibly intense period of pain is just some bizarre, last-gasp compensation for the blissful relief that will follow it.

She is one tough cookie and I love her deeply for it. Now that she's ruling the house again (and with a cane), I expect it will be only a few days before she's back blogging herself. Maybe she can reveal more what this is actually like, something I try to understand and sympathize with but know I can never even approach.

Baby got (new) back

Anya continues to move forward - quite literally. She's had many rough spots the last couple of days - searing pain, nausea and dizzyness when vertical, and the inability of her stomach and intestines to wake up from the anesthesia are among them. The last of these really holds her back: once her stomach gets going, we can feed her something other than ice chips and she can start taking oral pain meds, which are much easier to maintain and give a constant baseline of treatment, unlike the IV pain meds she's on now. She had one unit of blood transfused yesterday to help with the nausea and dizzyness; it's fixed the former but not the latter, and so she may get another unit this afternoon. The blood did help her get her color back, and she's not so swollen anymore.

Nonetheless her progress is very clear. After struggling to sit and stand yesterday, she's done both of those repeatedly with ever more encouraging results. She walked about 100 feet with a walker today, and I'm sure we'll do that again before the day is out. Once that stomach gets active we expect a big jump in activity - at least I hope for one, since she'll have to learn how to climb 20 stairs before getting out of the hospital! We're estimating Sunday or Monday before she gets out.

In the course of all her treatments and evaluations and routine bed-changings yesterday, I got a glimpse at her new back, which is covered in dressings at the moment. The sight of a straight, clean incision wasn't so much a shock as a relief, knowing that it holds a lot of promise. She's a least an inch taller (but still a little shorter than me) and I can tell that she has "two real hips" - her greatest anticipations before the surgery!

It's especially poignant when I compare it to her old back, which I had to clean with a sterilizing pad several times before her operation on Monday night and Tuesday morning. When I was looking at it then, I found it strange that I wouldn't see this curvy back that I'd known and loved and rubbed and cracked for five years again. But having seen her new back, I don't in the least miss it since the possibilities seem to just leap out of it.

Dispatches from the bedside

My name is Chris; I'll be your substitute blogger for approximately the next two weeks, as the Curvy One is currently recovering in the hospital from her spinal fusion surgery yesterday. Everything went well; the surgeon encountered no unexpected problems and accomplished everything he hoped. The curve correction should be from around 55 degrees to around 20, and he anticipates 80-85% pain reduction once the fusion holds. It was a great relief to hear him say that everything had gone well!

The experience has been very good compared to some stories we've heard . . . My mother-in-law and I waited in the lobby during the 5 1/2 hour surgery and the staff was very meticulous about keeping us updated, and the surgeon was prompt in talking to us afterward. The nursing staff has been excellent as well - friendly and sympathetic, and as gentle as possible.

Pain management is a problem, as anticipated . . . and unfortunately IV drip pain medication has the disadvantage of, upon waking up, discovering that the last dose has worn off and then waiting for the new one to take effect. It will be a great thing when her stomach awakens and decides to start processing stuff - food, drink, pain medication in pill form . . . Can't happen soon enough! (And we expect it to.) "Log-rolling" has been every bit the discomfort and pain we heard about - one of my lovely wife's pet peeves is the question, "On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your pain?" (The answer for scoliosis patients is: "Does not apply. Skewed scale.") She rated last night's log-rolling pain to be a 15. :(

Nonetheless having prepared for the surgery and having family here is making the transition much easier. I was happy to have my mother-in-law to lean on yesterday, and vice versa; we also knew what was going on thanks to a prior surgery and meticulous research for the last year, as well as the surgical team's thorough briefings and information packets.

It's strange, the emotions associated with this surgery . . . utterly different from things like bypasses or appendectomies. This is a life-changing event, an opening up of possibility but one that kind of teases you from afar since we know there's much more rehab left to do. There was obvious anxiety beforehand that the surgery would go well - although to our Lovely Patient's credit, she was calm, collected, and very brave even when wheeled out to surgery! My mother-in-law and I worried as we waited, but the constant updates helped; when it was complete, we felt not relief but pride. Our lady did it, and conquered her own fears in the doing. We've been proud and excited and beaming ever since, even while we sympathize and try to make her comfortable in these most painful of days.

Nonetheless the world of the spinal fusion isn't humorless. She's in that in-between state of sort-of sleep, drifting in and out while making coherent statements and not remembering them. :) First words on seeing me: "Hi honey. I love you. My back hurts." Needless to say, being down on painkillers and anesthesia doesn't preclude being cute. She's very excited that she's going to be taller, and has asked three times how tall she is now - which, well, we won't know until she stands up for the first time. And one more gem based on her love for the only food/drink allowed her: "I'm an ice chip addict." We hope she becomes a recovery addict. More to come.

It is time

Tomorrow I will be going into surgery. Finally - after a 15 year battle and resistance to surgery, I have surrendered my fears to God and the ability of my surgical team and am ready to go in. I'm feeling a little nervous today, but am going out with a bunch of friends tonight for dinner. I've spent the last two days showing my mother around the city since she has never been here, so we have had a good time.

Thank you to all who have supported me, cared about me, and loved me. I will be back soon, but my husband will write on my blog and on the scolio forum. Prayers and good thoughts are highly appreciated.

Here I go!