Today marks one month since the big spine surgery. No more staples or band-aids.
I have most definitely come a long way from the first two weeks. I started on Thursday walking three to five miles. It was a lot rougher than I expected, and I never thought I could be so sore from just walking. I was forced to take Saturday off, but I also had more important things going on...and those of you that know me know that Mellow Mushroom is always a priority.
The nausea has finally gone, and I once again have an appetite, although for different foods than I used to. For some weird reason, I have not had cravings for peanut butter since surgery...no longer my favorite food "group!" Looks like I need to update my Baldwin page. My cravings for cold and crispy Fuji apples, however, have stuck around. I am able to enjoy Indian food, salads, pizza, and more again and now keeping it in.
The pain is being managed well, and I am slowly taking fewer and fewer pain medications. I am hoping to begin driving soon once off the narcotics.
I cannot even begin to describe how different my back feels, or rather, how different I feel. I am already noticing a difference, and my bone is still far from fusing! The full recovery can take up to a year or two, but I now really know that going through with this surgery was really important for me, especially finishing my education at Duke (which I am expecting to be able to return by Fall 2013, hopefully summer session). Things were bad to begin with, and got worse and worse...and then my health problems suffered severely. I will not recount the events that have occurred over the first half of my college, but I will say when I realized that I struggled to breathe, sleep, and exercise...I knew it was time.
I have another two weeks or so until my first official follow-up with the surgeon, at which we will take new x-rays to see how far along the bone growth is and if all the hardware is still in place.
I must say, I was very nervous about going through with surgery after all the miserable accounts I read beforehand and all the regrets people had. However, I've realized my circumstances are different, my body is different, I'm different. It turns out I was lucky enough to have such a great surgeon, who listened to my preferences and concerns. I'm fortunate that I am young and otherwise reasonably healthy and am able to handle the pain well. And obviously I'm thankful that everything went smoothly and successfully (except for the few minor problems immediately post surgery during my hospital stay).
It took years of disappointing doctors' visits, reminding me that this was something I would always live with and had to make a priority. It also took years of seeing cold, haughty surgeons, who wouldn't take the time of day to listen to my concerns. And while I know that surgery isn't a cure all for these types of diseases, I felt they didn't understand that I'm a just a 20 year old that has been through more than enough. I just want to have a normal life and be able to make the most of my education/career/etc. Sometimes they told me the condition wouldn't worsen. Other times they told me I would need steroid injections (how my lung was punctured in April) for the rest of my life along with doses and doses of oxycodone.
With each new surgeon I saw, I received a disheartening new diagnosis. With every visit, I left the patient room with tears and hopelessness. Sure, I didn't have parents ("helicopter parents"), and many times I didn't have health insurance. Having a sister in medical school, I knew that those things did not help my case. However, over the past seven years, I learned more and more about my own conditions and how to approach doctors and what would make them hear me out. I've accomplished something that I'm extremely proud of: I've finally become my own advocate.
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