I had back surgery on March 12. A laminectomy and a microdiscectomy on my S1 L5. They cut into your back and down on to your spine where they remove a bit of bone and cut of the offending part of the disk. (Which has had me in pain for a year). They also have to cauterize vessels so you have internal burns... but as nice side effect they melt a tiny bit of fat in the process. YAY!
Evidently - I literally busted my ass at the gym. Upon further research this is a very common injury among gym rats and athletes. (*polishes nails on shirt and blushes girlishly*)
Let me just say this; that FUCKING hurt. Didn't expect it would tickle but also didn't think it would feel like I'd been drawn and quartered.
Turns out for some reason - that I do not understand - pain medication doesn't work the same way on me as on other people. I wouldn't know, I rarely take so much as a Tylenol. For example, the nurse gave me a shot of something into my IV... waited a while and gave me another. Waited a while (I'm sobbing) and gave me some pills. NO idea what any of this was. I could guess but what difference would it make. Evidently there I was wide awake, lucid, crying and begging my lovely nurse Faith not to get my beloved Spartan from the waiting area until I had controlled my crying. Because I was afraid it would upset him (hold on while I adjust my halo).... Meanwhile, the 250 pound man across from me had half of what I had and was blissfully sleeping. I never thought I'd wish I was a rolly polly man with a beard.
THEN, when it was time for home...I was lucky enough to have to stand and then SIT in a wheelchair. Okay. Let me paint a picture. After you broke your arm - they tell you to do push ups. Same kind of idea. Agonizing. Even though walking wasn't much better I insisted on walking to the car. I couldn't sit in the wheel chair again. I was pretty sure they would have to strap me on a body board to the roof of my SUV to get me home. So I "geisha" walked to the car. Trusty Faith on one side, horrified lovable Spartan on the other. Luckily the seat was higher and my will to live (and leave the building full of people who had just tortured me- except Faith of course who I may have begged to come with me now that I think about it) got me into the car and home.
That first night wasn't fun. Think animals making a sound before they die. Not a sigh like a wee dove... think mountain gorilla, elephant, rhino...dragon? Yeah. I made them all. Poor hubby didn't quite know what to do with himself. Come to that, I didn't either. Here's a flash - birthing babies is more like a weekend vacation somewhere really nice - where you can eat ice cream and carbs and not gain an ounce- compared to this. This was quite literally the worst thing I have ever felt.
The next week was kind of a blur of pain, pills every 4-6 hours and people waking me occasionally to take me to pee (that was FUN) and drink a protein shake. Also intersperse nightmares where people are stealing your organs, laughing at your naked body and pulling out staples that were a foot long. Great fun.
A week out it suddenly dawns on me when my pain haze clears... the sciatica is gone. Not just better. GONE. Still some numbness in my foot --- but they say that is last to go so I am encouraged. Thus far no incidents of drop foot - but these are much more noticeable in 5 inch heels - trust me. I've done heels once since the operation and didn't walk far but no falling over ...so far so good. I probably won't try that again for a few weeks.
SO, here I am three weeks out. Incision is healing nicely. I feel kind of like Lara Croft with my new scar. Staples out a week ago. Can't do anything. I'm a useless lump of flesh. In yoga clothes - not doing yoga. Worst kind.
Seriously. I can't work out. Well... they cleared my for 15 minute increments of light exercise such as walking. Then increasing as tolerated. Shockingly despite that fact that I like to think I channel some super hero qualities... I get tired very easily. Like going up two sets of stairs. Or showering. Or walking half a mile. Or grocery shopping. Getting dressed felt like a 5 k up until last week. I'm like a 95 year old.
I'm frustrated but glad it seems that the worst is over and full recovery awaits. Today, as most days, I'm mostly laying about watching every reality show going. There is some really strange stuff on TV. (i.e., Hillbilly Millionaire) I'm bored. Bored but not in pain. So everything is looking up. You should all start sending me flowers. It's the right thing to do. Or.... scratch that - send me some 5 inch heels. That will give me something to work towards. ;-)