I never really expected this much pain. You know - being a male and all - come on life, I can take anything you throw at me, bring it on sucker, I can handle it, and all that BS. Well that attitude is unrealistic, and is not going to go far in this predicament, so let it go. Be prepared to let out the little schoolgirl in you, and just face the fact that you`re going to hurt, and whimper, and squeeze out a few tears from the corners of your eyes, and wonder why you ever made the decision to go ahead in the first place. However there are words to give hope, and they come from the "Sharkman of the Delta", a favourite character and Navy Seal in Richard Marcinko novels.
To paraphrase; "All I could feel was blinding pain. I had no idea where I was or what may have happened`- it didn`t really matter. I was feeling pain, and that was good. That meant I was still alive."
(Note - if there seem to be quotes missing or funny characters that`s because my stupid laptop keyboard has decided to go into French character mode, and I`m too bagged to hunt down the problem and kill it right now)
I mean, at first it's all balled up together in one big massive pain, the boundaries of all the little parts that comprise it are completely blurred by the morphine, which by the way seemed to be a waste of time. Well maybe it did work, but it was not a complete solution by far. I am however, still glad they let me play with the pump for a day or so, because I think it psychologically soothed me.
By the second day post op I was starting to distinguish the individual steady pain contributors. The giant lower backache of course, the trauma surrounding the incision site, the recurring pressure in my bladder and twisting catheter, the wrinkled sweaty & irritated skin surfaces next to the mattress, some kind of cerebro-spinal fluid related headache thingy that lasted well over a week, the cramped muscles from having to lay in one position for hours at a time, and the mental pain and frustration of not being able to do too much to distract myself or do anything about it.
The bladder catheter was interesting, and nothing I can ever recall experiencing before. Whenever it decides to, the bladder spasms and stuff starts to flow. Allowing this to occur goes against every ounce of potty training we had to go through as a teenager. What, don`t tell me you were all off the diapers before your teens. Darn, I thought I was a fast learner too! Just kidding, I was really potty trained by age nine :-) Then, after they remove the catheter, it seems like you have to force your bladder to actually let go. Go figure! Not knowing, I asked the nurse who removed it, how long the catheter was. She held up a sorry looking (short) piece of rubber tubing and said with a smirk - It depends! OK let`s not go there.
Having a number two, well that is a different story altogether. Talk about letting go of some modesty and pride. Being in bed meant the brace didn't have to be worn, and trust me you didn't want to anyway because it is quite uncomfortable while in a reclined position. Going to the toilet meant the brace had to be put on, something I was not able to do on my own at that stage. In fact the brace is to be worn at all times while out of bed, or in the shower, whenever I'll be permitted to do that, for most of the next three months. Given that the delays in getting a nurse's assistance, the time to put the brace on, the slow shuffle with the walker to the bathroom and the time to settle down onto the commode, there could be no such thing as an emergency bowel movement. The sad thing is that often, by the time you got seated, the pain and stress had destroyed any urgency in the whole plan and 5 minutes of trying to relax usually resulted in a disappointing shuffle back to bed. After a while the staff was starting to whisper about things like "stool softeners", "Fleet enemas" and "disimpaction". Am I the only one that has visions of groups of huge battleships passing very quickly through a narrow gap, when fleet enema is mentioned? Did I mention we were cautioned not to push or strain? I mean, isn't that just a normal part of the whole activity?
Thank God they started with the first option, because the other two scared the crap out of me! Pun intended. Eventually we were able to do our business. For some reason the staff always use the word we to mean me! "And how are we doing today?" You look fine nursey, and you can walk out of here at the end of your shift, and you can eat a wonderful meal, and get a great night sleep, and have a refreshing shower, and wear clean clothes, and not feel any pain, and have a crap on your own. Don't talk about we! I, on the other hand, haven't felt worse in my life, and now I have to depend on cheery little you to come into the bathroom and help me wipe my butt and pull up my pants and get me back into bed. We are doing OK, thank you very much!
Oh yeah, getting the brace on. That was quite honestly some of the worst pain I have ever felt in my life, and I have had kidney stones, gout in both feet at the same time, plantar faciitus, hip surgery, dislocated hip, severed ACL and subsequent knee surgery etc. The brace is a combination of ballistic nylon, stretch bandage, Velcro fasteners and metal strap adjusters, and a big hunk of hard plastic inserted into a pocket in the back. The plastic had been previously form-fitted to my lower back and upper gluteus area, so it has some custom curves and indentations in it. Note - it has absolutely no flexibility, it is hard as a rock. Getting into it entails rolling back and forth on your back while your assistant (nurse, physiotherapist and later Heather) tugs the parts through underneath you. All the while you are rolling over this hard plastic onto which you are trying to center in the correct position before you tighten up the straps. Did you actually read my earlier post about what was done in surgery? Do you realize what went on back there? Let me refresh your memory while I refresh my drink. They made about an 8 inch incision, stretched and clamped the skin and muscle tissue back, removed sections of bone from the outside of 4 vertebrae to expose and add space around the spinal canal, reamed the nerve outlets in a few of them, removed extraneous nerve tissue from around the spinal cord, trimmed some intruding disk fragments out, placed bone and artificial coral implants, drilled and inserted at least 8 screws tied together with a few rods, then stitched and stapled me back up. And afterwards you think it won't hurt much when rolling over a lumpy piece of hard plastic, the purpose of which is to place pressure on the region so as to help stabilize and protect it. Think again, Grasshopper!
After being discharged I learned a little trick about managing the pain spikes while putting the brace on. As it turns out most of what I was feeling was nerve pain, meaning pain felt as a result of pressure on the nerves. When the pain spiked I was tensing all my back muscles up, an instinctive reaction by the body to protect the nerve and other tissue from further damage. That instinct can sometimes work against you by causing the pain spikes to prolong indefinitely while you are tensed. When this happens, eventually your pain threshold is torn down and your will to continue trying ceases and you have to give up. This conditions you very quickly into fearing the activity, which further works against you. The longer the muscles are tensed, the longer it takes the elevated pain to dissipate. Here's the trick - do everything in your power to remain relaxed as the pain is spiking, and if you are successful you will momentarily be back to a manageable level of discomfort.
I wish some expert in the hospital had told me this in the beginning. I shouldn't have had to figure it out myself. So here's my little bit of wisdom for you should you find yourself in a similar situation. That, and the Sharkman's thoughts above.
In summary, the hospital stay was unpleasant, the staff especially the nurses earn every penny of their salary for the crappy job they have to do and patients they deal with, and keep believing that things do get better every day.
Next - 7 days post-discharge.
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