Herniated Disc- again, five years later.

You certainly don't have to read this. I wanted to write about my experience over the last three weeks to remind myself of what happened in case I need to remind myself things will get better (after they get worse), and how and when. It is a long post...

Wednesday, September 10 was a regular school day. I cannot even remember what I did specifically, other than I volunteered in the elementary school lunch room, I mowed the lawn, and I had the youth group (Young Women’s) activity that night. Although, I remember coming home and telling Travis, I think I overdid it today, and I really should relax. Well, I didn’t take a bath like I wanted to, and Travis was going out of town on Friday, so I did just a little bit more.

I didn’t sleep well that night. Thursday morning, when the alarm went off, I got out of bed, hurting, and walked to the door. I couldn’t breathe for the pain in my back and my left leg. I couldn’t move. I stumbled back into bed, tears running down my face, completely freaked out. I lay there thinking, “I can’t just stay in bed, I have so much help I need to give! Lunches to make, projects to work on, volunteering in the lunch room, I was going to help Travis at work today!” and I was really freaked out because I could not move. I was terrified that I had overdone it enough that my disc had slipped.

Yeah, that disc. When I was pregnant with Veronica, I had some back pain that laid me out on the couch for our 11^th anniversary (I cried that I had to cancel my awesome plans!) and another few days. And, then, during the C-section, the disc popped out and I was left with numbness and paralysis of my left leg. The orthopedic surgeon who saw me (Kucinich- he was quite the character!) said  I would have three weeks of recover to the point where I could see the light at the end of the tunnel, but that it would be hard. And, then I would recover most, but probably not all, of my movement, strength and feeling. He was spot on!

Travis woke up, and was almost as freaked out as I was, to find me crying and in pain. I asked him for a priesthood blessing- knowing that this was a BIG DEAL. I didn’t even try to sit up because I knew it would hurt too much. After saying my name, and as he started the blessing, I felt an immediate calmness pour through me. All my panicked freaked-out turmoil immediately stilled. I was told that, according to my faith, I would be healed.  And that, even though I was hurt, I could still provide the help I wanted.

That is not always as simple as it sounds. I have faith in the power of God. I have “proved” him in times past, and I know He can always heal. But, I also knew what lay ahead of me, and it made me so scared and worried. I tried to set it aside, and just not even think about doubts I might have that he would heal me.

I gulped down tons of ibuprofen for that day, and was able muddle through. I was limited in mobility and still in discomfort/pain. And, I noticed I had some left buttock pain, but I thought, “It’s going to get better.”

It always gets worse first, though, right?

Sunday, I wore my favorite boots that have a low heel to church. I leaned down to talk to somebody in a pew, and my left leg gave out, twisting to the side. I didn’t think much about it until it happened a second time a moment later when I stood up to walk away. I remembered that sensation- the one where my muscles are numb and don’t sense or respond the way they are supposed to. I niggling worry lodged in my head.

Monday morning I woke up to numbness in my calf, spreading down to my left foot, starting to involve the fifth, fourth and third toes (pinkie to middle toes). Then it started to spread to my sole. I called and made an appointment to see my PA, knowing there was really absolutely nothing she could do for me, but I had better at least have this awful event officially documented. 

Tuesday, things were worse, more buttock pain, more numbness, more weakness. Back was not hurting as much, though. The PA, of course, said there wasn’t much she could do. It definitely sounds like my disc slipped (confirmed self-diagnosis). She did give me some prednisone, some opiates, and some muscle relaxant. Just to help through the recovery. And, she gave me a neurology referral.

I went home, knowing I still had some difficult days ahead of me. I forgot how bad. I slept poorly for that first week, combination of trying to learn to sleep on my back (I’m a side sleeper, belly preferred, but that hasn’t happened since I was pregnant with Nica), and the pain and drugs. I became weepy and tearful, really sad. I remembered that is what Morphine derivatives do to me- they make me cry (weird, huh?), so I stopped taking that drug and stuck with ibuprofen and acetaminophen. They helped- some. 

I felt frustrated, lazy for having to lay on the couch, irked that I couldn’t do all the things I wanted to do no that the girls were in school and gone for a good portion of the day. Sick of laying in bed with my thoughts racing and thinking of all the things I wanted to do. Tired of reading (gasp! I can almost hardly believe I got to that point! I partly blame it on the lack of good books available/findable). And, then, with all that, I was trying to walk the knife edge of doing enough to keep going, but not doing too much to damage my back further.  

By the end of the week (9-19), the numbness solidified to include the four toes and part of my big toe, all up my calf and back of my thigh. The pain in my back went away, and my back probably hasn’t felt this loose and good in YEARS. But, my weakness in my left leg, thigh, and buttock made stairs difficult, walking in heels or on a grassy hill dangerous (no sensation to know when the ground had dipped or shifted, or the heel had wobbled, and muscles slow or numb so they couldn’t respond- my whole body lurches and I down I tumble). I spent almost every day soaking in the hottest water I could tolerate (which was hot!).

Then, the pain came. It wasn’t so bad during that first full week but by Thursday, September 18, I could only get out of bed and walk downstairs, but by the time I got to the kitchen, I would have such severe pain, I would hobble over to the couch and lay down 2-5 minutes until the spasms stopped. It was like a single-muscle Charlie horse that ran from my buttock all the way down the back of my leg into my calf. I would then get up, once the pain subsided, and hobble to the kitchen, start lunches, and a minute later I would hobble back to the couch.  If I took a nap, which sometimes I had to – due to difficultly sleeping at night, the drugs and/or the pain, when I would get up, I would start that whole process over again. It was so bad one afternoon that I burst into tears in front of the girls. I was in so much pain, and the fear that this would never go away- the weakness, the inability to do simple things, and the pain- literally and figuratively brought me to the floor, flat on my back, tears streaming down my face behind hands that tried to cover my grimace. I was trying to not freak out my daughters, but seeing me like that really did give affect them. 

Miranda was making me cards at school. Nica even asked how to write “Get Well” and made me 6 or 7 pictures at church during sacrament meeting on Sunday (9/21). 

One of Miranda's Get Well cards that she made for me at school (during free time).

The inside of Miranda's card. She still learning to spell, but she is writing "Hope!"

Nica's first card that she drew for me. She asked me to help her spell "Get Well" and then wrote it on her own.

This was her favorite drawing that she made for me.

Although it doesn't say "get well" on it, she drew this as part of that series showing me (left) and Nica (right).

Monday, September 22, I had my system down, and even found a few ways to cheat the Charlie horse pain (stretching my leg in a certain way). I was walking a little better, although still fatigued quickly (whereupon my limp would become very pronounced). I thought I was now on the mend. I was taking ibuprofen rather regularly, but trying to not take quite as much. I don’t even want to think what my stomach lining looks like. I was adding acetaminophen as needed. And, I was doing ok.

Wednesday, September 24, I was up and doing. I think I forgot to take the morning dose of ibuprofen, got distracted by a project, and then I had to dash out the door for a YW presidency meeting. On the drive down, I started getting the Charlie horse cramps a little. When I got to the meeting, I couldn’t even sit up, so the entire meeting I laid on my president’s couch as we discussed different things. I felt like an idiot, and I tried to sit up, but I just couldn’t. I made it home and spent the rest of the day and evening laying on my back on the couch. Any time I stood up the pain was so intense I wanted to throw up. Hot baths didn’t even seem to help anymore. I was tired of convalescing, and I didn’t want to be laying down- our activity that night was to help a recent widow paint her deck in preparation for her trying to sell her house. But I couldn’t move.

The next day, I stayed on top of the meds, was more diligent with moving, and tried not to over-do it. I really wanted to go Kayaking with a friend of mine- Oh yeah. I forgot to mention that during these weeks of convalescence, the weather was phenomenal! Beautiful blue skies, bright sunny days in the 70s! We didn’t have weather this awesome for this long all summer! It was killing me to be laying on the couch, watching the sun shine brightly as it went from one window to the next, knowing I could be out hiking, walking, biking, kayaking, but because of my crappy back/leg, I couldn’t even move off the couch!

Friday I was well enough that I thought I would try the kayaking. I did NOT move the trailer or carry anything on my own- I knew I couldn’t- but I so wanted to go and do since I knew my opportunities were fast closing. It was a little uncomfortable, and I was so afraid my leg would give out and I’d dump myself in the lake, but it was a great outing. Miriam Powell and her five-year-old son, Brennan, went with me, and they were super helpful and we had a great time.

But, the pain persisted and started to change to an achy, constant pain. Interspersed more and more occasionally with those Charlie-horse like pains. Sleeping was still tough, and first waking up was hard, but I was getting better.

Sunday, though, I (again!) forgot to take medicine before going to church. I had done so well that morning, and wasn’t hurting, that I didn’t even think about it. Until I tried to sit in the pew. I just could not. I ended up walking to the van and taking some aleve (I was out of ibuprofen). And my sweet YW President caught me in the hallway, saw that I was hurting, and watched as I burst into tears. Pain is exhausting- not only physically, but mentally. Even knowing that it would get better, it was not sure knowledge, just a hope- and there is that fear of not getting better that, “What if I am like this for the rest of my life!?!”

I have had to rest more, do less, say no to some things, and bite my tongue- watching all these opportunities at projects pass me by. Being unable to say, “Hey! I’ll come paint your deck!” “I’ll be over tomorrow to help you paint your barn.” Or “Sure, I can help out in the lunch room” and “I can watch your toddlers/infant”. Having it take three times as long to go grocery shopping (something I do not enjoy in the first place) or other activities taking so much longer just because I am physically unable to make my leg work any faster is demoralizing and frustrating. 

Today, Friday, October 3, 2014, it is three weeks and one day since I woke up with my slipped disc. I slept better last night, only had a few twinges of pain. I was able to walk downstairs without any cramps. I am almost hopeful that the numbness is lessening just a smidge (that moment when your foot is asleep, but it is almost starting to “wake up”- just before the pins and needles set in). And, I have been able to decrease the amount of ibuprofen I’ve been taking. 

I’m still limited. I still limp. I still have to set my foot down carefully. I have to take much longer to do everything. And, I’m not trusting my body to do certain things (hills are still scary. I wouldn’t trust myself to climb, hike (even just walking on a dirt path), or go up a ladder. But, I was able to mow the lawn (very very slooooowwwwly), and drive, and sit up for longer periods of time each day.

Three weeks. Three weeks of hard suffering, and now I can see the light at the tunnel. I’m not recovered, but I am recovering.  And, I never lost the ability to walk, for which I am so grateful! Although I probably should have accepted more assistance, thankfully I didn’t have little kids to worry about as they were all at school. And, I could take all day to do the things I needed to (other than pack lunches in the morning, but I got through that, too).

This is too long for a blog post. Too detailed for this venue as well. But I wanted to write it all down while it was fresh in my memory so that next time (because I think there will be a next time even as I hope I am wrong), I can remember that it is bad, and it does hurt, and there is a certain progression of the damage, but that it will heal, and I will get better. Referring to this detailed history will hopefully help me track my progress and recovery- gearing up for the really bad, remembering the tricks I used to help me get through the worst parts, and reminding myself I will be better. Dr. Kucinich said I would have maybe a 20% chance of having a recurrence of a slipped disc at the same place. Even this slim chance is the reason Travis didn't want me to get pregnant again. And, knowing that it slipped now, I am certain it would've happened if I'd gone through another pregnancy. And, now that I've had it happen at the same place twice, I imagine my chances of having this occur again are much higher (definitely more than 20%). 

So, where to go from here? Keep walking. Keep hoping that I will heal fully. And, get into physical therapy so maybe I can build up the muscles so I don't have more problems- or at least not as severe. Or maybe recover faster next time? At any rate, being able to do something that might help will at least fortify me mentally.