Today makes one year since the first of three spinal surgeries, two hospitalizations, and an ambulance ride in a thirty-day period. One month of hell due to sciatica caused by herniated disk in the spine.
Physically, the hardest month of my life. The first two surgeries, minimally invasive, didn't work. Pain turned into periodic agony. Was reduced to using a walker when just a few months before was walking several miles daily.
The final spinal surgery was spinal fusion. Went to the hospital in unrelieved agony, took everything I had to even get into the car. This surgery worked. Woke up in recovery room, agony in legs gone, metal in the spine. Three days later went home, slowly gained strength, started rehabbing. The month of hell had been debilitating, but I worked to recover, getting my life back a little at a time. Started walking again. In due time, made it back to four miles a day.
In late February saw spinal surgeon. He said I didn't need to come back unless I needed him, and he would be my spinal surgeon. I grinned and said, "Damned right, pal!"
I am grateful the body doesn't remember all the pain of that month. The mental memories have run together like a river, with just a few salient points, like the surgeries, the ambulance, and the time in the hospital. Since all the scars are on the back I don't see them. Have never noticed the metal that, with new bone, holds spine together. Have some back muscle discomfort at times but the agony of an angry sciatic nerve is gone, forever, I hope.
Learned I wasn't tough. Nobody can be tough in the face of unremitting sciatic pain. But I was resilient, never gave up, did all I could, fought like hell, and in the end, with a lot of help, I got through it.
