Category change

No longer “violin,” now “music.” I’m the proud new parent of a soprano saxophone! There’s already an alto in the household, so maybe we’ll end up with some duets.

I’m still devoted to the violin, but won’t be able to play much while my neck heals — probably a few minutes at a time to start with. So besides needing a music fix for that reason, I’ve wanted to pick up something easier than the violin, where progress is so incremental. The slow, intricate process is one of the reasons for not getting bored and moving on — and it suits me temperamentally — but I’m looking forward to something that I can pick up a little more quickly. A couple of sax players have said it takes an afternoon to pick up the basics. After that it’s a lifetime of fine tuning.

Another cycle begins

Though they’ve been blooming for a while, today it feels like it really counts. In the 70s yesterday, the grass is more green than brown. Redbuds and bradford pears are blooming, and the tulip trees’ and hackberries’ buds are obvious.

The sound of lawnmowers is heard throughout the land.

Only five more weeks until the semester’s over — this is both good news and bad news. Still a lot to get done, but in five weeks, no matter what happens, it’s done. One of the best things about teaching is that things actually get finished. We get to start all over again the next semester, hoping to finally get it right.

Back to work

Recovery has been much faster than I (or anyone) thought it would be. Went back to work on Wednesday, and finished the week feeling fairly good. Thursday afternoon involved a walk across campus from office to class, but it was uneventful. My voice comes and goes, and I’m usually asleep by 9pm, but things seem almost back to normal. The incision’s still pretty scary — I’m hoping turtleneck weather holds out another week or so — but it’s visibly healing.

Still some residual aches, especially in my right arm and between my shoulders, but this is probably from a combination of nerve inflammation and the bone graft. Arm muscles are pretty tender, too, because they’re now getting the use they didn’t get for a couple of weeks. Getting out of bed in the morning is still rough, with shoulder pains from hard sleep.

But looking at the top shelf at the grocery store doesn’t set off headaches anymore, and the mystery pains from two weeks ago are gone. The obsession about nerve damage has disappeared, replaced by uncertainty about the fusion and plating — uncertainties that will fade in time.

And it’s still difficult to write about this. I’ve kept some emotional distance from this whole episode, and it’s come through my writing about it. The workings have been intellectually interesting, but I know it’s also had an emotional impact — though I can’t deal with exploring it yet. The first time I was able to wash my hair I felt my skull through my scalp, and was struck by how a small column of bone and some tissue are all that hold my life together.

About a year ago I watched my mother pass peacefully after twelve years with Alzheimer’s. As we dressed her in fresh clothing, her body still warm, I felt bone through skin, and wondered how we live such connected lives trapped in these fragile, limited cages.

Long couple of days

Though surgery was scheduled for 10:30a, I didn’t actually go into the OR until almost 6:00p. Spent much of the time doing relaxation exercises, trying not to think of the reality of what was about to happen. Also spent time trying not to think about how hungry I was getting, since I hadn’t eaten after 10:30 the night before.

But at last they came with sedatives, and about thirty seconds later I was waking up in the recovery room. I had been told that it would only take a few hours to recover before going home, but because I seem to be sensitive to anesthesia, I wasn’t able to leave the hospital until 9:00 the next morning. One of the requirements was to walk from my room to each end of the hallway, but between muzzy-headedness and a lack of coordination, that didn’t happen until about ten hours later.

The time since then has been a little rough. I’ve avoided pain meds and muscle relaxants, but my mood is very low. Used the word “demoralized” this morning. It’s difficult not to be able to eat much — my esophagus is sore and behaving strangely — and I don’t feel very sharp mentally. Add to that the assorted aches and pains which are probably from my body readjusting to the new arrangement of neckbones, and an odd patch of numbness under my chin. And the incision looks just like what it is, which is disconcerting to see on my neck. I had a towel hanging over the mirror until this afternoon, because it would have been too much, on top of all the other stuff I’ve been dealing with, to see the incision and the Dermabond holding it together.

Enforced laziness isn’t fun for very long.

Some talk about when I’ll be able to play the violin again, but today it seems like it won’t happen for a long, long time. I realize, though, that this is only my mood talking.

More later.

Surgery Tomorrow

Tomorrow is the “anterior cervical minidiskectomy with fusion and plating C5-C6.” Though I try to keep the images of my neck being cut open and bones reamed out with power tools out of my head, I’m ready for this. Since last Friday I’ve had to wear a soft collar whenever in transit (car, plane) to keep from further injury because even a small accident could lead to permanent nerve damage. Though the pain is what brought me to the doctor, I’m even more ready to get rid of the constant worry.

Picked up some shirts that button down the front, since my wardrobe consists almost entirely of turtlenecks, pullover sweaters, long-sleeved t-shirts, and fleece. It might be a few days before I’ll be able to pull clothes over my head.

Later it’s to the grocery store for soft food. The esophagus has to be moved out of the way. I try not to think of that too much, either.

Tomorrow morning to the hospital at 10:30 to prepare for surgery at 12:30. If everything goes well I’ll be out by 7pm.

It’s hard to think about all of this. At the same time, though, I’m ready to let it go and let things happen as they will. There isn’t really a choice involved in having this done — though there are surgical risks, there are even greater risks in not taking care of it. As I sit here right now I have a low-grade headache and a dull pressure pain at the base of my neck. Though the pain itself isn’t debilitating, it’s become a constant presence, a reminder of imminent danger.

The end of tests

Finished up testing with an EMG on Wednesday afternoon. The needles were no more intimidating than those used for acupuncture, and the neurologist worked quickly. The nerve-zapping test was a little more difficult — it involved putting a low-grade taser on the nerves to see how quickly they conduct an impulse. The good news: no nerve damage, which is pretty incredible considering how much the spinal cord is compressed.

Pre-op tests today, surgery on Thursday. He’ll be pulling the disk, dropping in some cadaver bone to fuse the vertebrae, and putting in a titanium plate to hold everything in place. Here’s how far this kind of work has come in the past few years: it’ll be done as outpatient surgery. Cost-cutting is probably part of the reason, but my spine won’t be laid open to do this. They’ll go in through an incision on the front of my neck, go past the windpipe and esophagus, and take care of everything from there. Not as much chance for infection, much less damage to surrounding tissues (just some rooting around), and because of all the preliminary tests, no surprises for the surgeon. He’ll be digging around, cutting and attaching for forty-five minutes to an hour, and later in the day I’m heading home. What times we live in.

More tests

Today, the myelogram. This is the test I was feeling a lot of anxiety about. So I woke up early and planned to go to class so I would spend the morning obsessing about all of the ways in which it could go wrong (even going according to plan was scary).

An unexpected snowfall last night changed all that, so I spent the morning answering email, planning for my absence from classes, and chattering. A lot. Nervous energy was bouncing off the walls.

My catastrophizing paid off. Nothing could be as bad as I imagined it. The room was cold, the table hard against my bony frame. But the part I was most concerned about — the actual spinal tap — was very easy. The doctor had done hundreds of these, and other than a minor jolt along a leg nerve, I couldn’t tell when the needle had gone in. The dye was uncomfortable — pressure in my lower back and pelvis, and a vague sense of unease — but he took his time, so the pressure didn’t last long.

The Xrays were more difficult though. Because the trouble spot is in at the base of my neck, being on my stomach while keeping my chin on a rolled up towel was . . . well . . . difficult (<– midwestern understatement here). The pain between my shoulder blades absorbed all my thoughts. Apparently I’ve developed a way of carrying myself that keeps my spine from moving around too much. The Xray, though, required bending it in all directions, and all the while my head had to be up to keep the dye from running into my brain and causing a debilitating headache. The doctor and techs moved fast, though.

The only real problem came when all of that was over. I had to move to a gurney to be taken to get a CT scan. This involved the almost impossible maneuver of rolling from my stomach to my back, all the while keeping my head higher than the rest of my body (dye/brain again). I did okay with keeping my head up, but when the pressure of all that extra fluid hit the kink in the spinal cord, my shoulders felt a kind of pain I’ve never felt before. Pressure, profound achiness, enough pain to leave me shaking. When I got my breath back I asked the tech how long it would last, and he said, “Eventually it goes away. You probably didn’t want to hear ‘eventually.’” No. I didn’t. But “eventually” in this case meant a few minutes.

While waiting on the gurney in the hallway I kicked into some relaxation exercises and slipped into a light doze. It’s been twenty years since learning how to do that, and it still works even under the most trying situations.

The myelogram was followed by a CT scan. Easy. Closed my eyes and it was soon over.

Tomorrow: An EMG. Needles! Electrodes!

And the results of all these tests tomorrow afternoon. Surgery’s been scheduled for next week.