I have alluded to it, but have had a hard time talking about it fully still - 9 months later... and yet, this thing has defined me for almost a year. Since my therapy is writing, what better way to deal with all that comes from a personality defining injury, than writing.
*if you get squeamish, you may not be ok with this. I'm not one of those people, so i don't think that this is one of those things that would make people uncomfortable.... but who knows. that's my disclaimer*
When it first happened, I didn't know what to think... i was competing in a fitness competition with a partner, and we were in a timed trial to do a circuit of exercises as quickly as possible. i was standing up from a squat (non-weight bearing), when i just knew. I knew I was hurt, but didn't know how badly. The pop - that sounded like a door slamming into a wall - and the feeling - which my partner, with her back to mine, described as a chair breaking behind her - could have been all in my head. The pain that shot through every part of my body, except for my legs, could have been imagined, simply from me hearing and feeling the break. I slumped down, and while everyone encouraged me to continue and finish the exercise (as we were going to win), I knew I was done. I will never forget the fear - the fear that if I tried to move my toes, I wouldn't be able to. the complete shock of what had just happened, and the fear that maybe I was wrong - maybe I hadn't hurt myself, and maybe my reaction was for nothing, and that i would spend the next year embarrassed in front of my colleagues. The tears didn't even come - they just welled in my eyes, rolling down my face once they became too much for my eyes to hold. I laid in the exact same position for 45 minutes, telling them to hold off on calling the ambulance, because maybe I would be ok. Maybe it was just a strain. Maybe I was overreacting. Every movement, every breath, every miniscule turn of the head caused the most excrutiating pain of my entire life, to bolt through my entire body.
Once the ambulance arrived, they informed me that they had no backboard - and that they would be lifting me onto the stretcher. I knew that meant more pain, but since i was in shock, it didn't occur to me that they could possibly move me incorrectly, and cause further damage. They lifted me on three, and I started involuntarily convulsing and hyperventilating from the pain. It was the first time in my life that I could not control my body as a result of the pain that I was in. it was the longest 4 minute ambulance ride of my life.
I spent 5 hours in emerg. It took 3 hours for a doctor to arrive, and another 30 min to get anything for the pain. They mixed up the story (stating that I fell, instead of just stood up), they pumped me full of 6 bags of morphine in order to have me lift my leg (which I couldn't do, even after 5 bags of morphine, and 1 bag of Demerol). They sent me home, 'ready to go!', and my friend had to carry me to the washroom, and 2 friends had to carry me out of the hospital.
They didn't do xrays in the emergency room, and even when I went to a walk in clinic 3 days later (limping/barely moving, bent over, on Percocet's and still crying from pain with every step), they all but refused to do xrays. I had to beg. Literally. Screaming in pain, and tears streaming down my face, the dr at the walk-in clinic huffed, as he wrote out my referral for an xray.
So then, when the xray came back to show I had fractured my L2 vertebrae into multiple pieces, I was almost relieved - it wasn't all in my head. And at that point, I thought it might be ok once it healed.
The good news was, the bone was healing fairly adequately on its own. There was a 5 mm protrusion where the bone chips from the bone shattering stuck off of the vertebrae, but all things considered, the healing had maintained the vertebral shape, and was on its way. The bone would be solid again by December 2011 (can't wait!), and I would only have to be concerned about bone spurs where the protrusion was later in life.
The other good news was the torn hip flexors would heal. They would need time, as they were bracing the spine while the vertebrae healed, but they would be ok. Once the vertebrae hit 75% healed, the hip flexors could relax. They would always be weak, they would probably tear again, and I would always have mobility issues in my hips, legs and shoulders, but they would heal.
The 'rest of your life news' - I have degenerative disc disease. They can see, on my xrays, CT scans, and MRIs, that my first L vertebrae (L5) is touching my tailbone - because the disc is completely gone. The L4 and L5 bones aare rubbing against one another, as the disc is nearly gone between those 2 vertebrae as well.
*if you get squeamish, you may not be ok with this. I'm not one of those people, so i don't think that this is one of those things that would make people uncomfortable.... but who knows. that's my disclaimer*
When it first happened, I didn't know what to think... i was competing in a fitness competition with a partner, and we were in a timed trial to do a circuit of exercises as quickly as possible. i was standing up from a squat (non-weight bearing), when i just knew. I knew I was hurt, but didn't know how badly. The pop - that sounded like a door slamming into a wall - and the feeling - which my partner, with her back to mine, described as a chair breaking behind her - could have been all in my head. The pain that shot through every part of my body, except for my legs, could have been imagined, simply from me hearing and feeling the break. I slumped down, and while everyone encouraged me to continue and finish the exercise (as we were going to win), I knew I was done. I will never forget the fear - the fear that if I tried to move my toes, I wouldn't be able to. the complete shock of what had just happened, and the fear that maybe I was wrong - maybe I hadn't hurt myself, and maybe my reaction was for nothing, and that i would spend the next year embarrassed in front of my colleagues. The tears didn't even come - they just welled in my eyes, rolling down my face once they became too much for my eyes to hold. I laid in the exact same position for 45 minutes, telling them to hold off on calling the ambulance, because maybe I would be ok. Maybe it was just a strain. Maybe I was overreacting. Every movement, every breath, every miniscule turn of the head caused the most excrutiating pain of my entire life, to bolt through my entire body.
Once the ambulance arrived, they informed me that they had no backboard - and that they would be lifting me onto the stretcher. I knew that meant more pain, but since i was in shock, it didn't occur to me that they could possibly move me incorrectly, and cause further damage. They lifted me on three, and I started involuntarily convulsing and hyperventilating from the pain. It was the first time in my life that I could not control my body as a result of the pain that I was in. it was the longest 4 minute ambulance ride of my life.
I spent 5 hours in emerg. It took 3 hours for a doctor to arrive, and another 30 min to get anything for the pain. They mixed up the story (stating that I fell, instead of just stood up), they pumped me full of 6 bags of morphine in order to have me lift my leg (which I couldn't do, even after 5 bags of morphine, and 1 bag of Demerol). They sent me home, 'ready to go!', and my friend had to carry me to the washroom, and 2 friends had to carry me out of the hospital.
They didn't do xrays in the emergency room, and even when I went to a walk in clinic 3 days later (limping/barely moving, bent over, on Percocet's and still crying from pain with every step), they all but refused to do xrays. I had to beg. Literally. Screaming in pain, and tears streaming down my face, the dr at the walk-in clinic huffed, as he wrote out my referral for an xray.
So then, when the xray came back to show I had fractured my L2 vertebrae into multiple pieces, I was almost relieved - it wasn't all in my head. And at that point, I thought it might be ok once it healed.
It wasn't until the CT scans and MRIs that they determined the rest of it - I had 65-85% tears in both of my hip flexors, I had 3 other bulging discs, and they had uncovered degenerative disc disease which (according to their testing) had been present since I was 10 years old, and an extremely advanced case.
Through a long series of tests, CT scans, drs and surgeon appts, lots of pain meds, and subsequent emergency room visits, I was told something I didn't want to hear - this will be the rest of your life. The good news was, the bone was healing fairly adequately on its own. There was a 5 mm protrusion where the bone chips from the bone shattering stuck off of the vertebrae, but all things considered, the healing had maintained the vertebral shape, and was on its way. The bone would be solid again by December 2011 (can't wait!), and I would only have to be concerned about bone spurs where the protrusion was later in life.
The other good news was the torn hip flexors would heal. They would need time, as they were bracing the spine while the vertebrae healed, but they would be ok. Once the vertebrae hit 75% healed, the hip flexors could relax. They would always be weak, they would probably tear again, and I would always have mobility issues in my hips, legs and shoulders, but they would heal.
 |
| about 8 months after my accident - the healing progress (2nd vertebrae down) |
So where do I go from here?
Surgery for the rest of my life; expensive practitioners twice a week for years; a cane for possible another year; a limp for maybe a year after that; pain management for my entire life, at a level of pain that i don't even wish to describe; the inability to ever run or be active the way I was in the past; and hopeful fingers crossed for developments in surgery, leading to perhaps a permanent fix.
Now - I'm aware of the positives. I was EXTREMELY lucky, as they hesitantly told me that the bone chips from my vertebrae were millimeters away from puncturing my spinal column, which would have almost immediately meant paralysis. I was extremely active before, and so my surrounding muscles were prepped and ready to hold my spine in place, allowing it to heal the best way possible. I also never lose sight of how lucky I was after my car accident over Easter weekend, and that it simply re-tore my muscles, and moved some discs, but did not disrupt my vertebrae. I have had numbness in my fingers and toes, and appreciate every morning when I wake up, and wiggle my toes, then my fingers - and then bask in the fact that I can. It's the smaller things that take some effort - things like travel plans down the drain; passions put at bay (such as sports, backpacking/portaging); what I thought was my 'healthy' part of life (with all my other health issues) is now subpar; the inability to ever really enjoy my nights out with friends, family, without pain blocking the truest of happy emotions; the list goes on.
i think it's a challenge for people to truly understand - i constantly hear "just stay positive!", which is an encouraging and blissful thought.... and i explained to my sister (who coudln't seem to understand why i coudln't just look on the good side of things), 'it's easy to be positive for 24 hours a day 7 days a week, for 6 months... and then there comes one day where it all culminates'. and i'm allowing myself to be sad on that one day. since i have an extremely high pain tolerance (a diagnosed condition, that is part of some of my other health issues - for real, not kidding), people seem to take for granted - or maybe just not understand - that this pain is unlike anything i've ever experienced. i've torn my achilles, broken about 50% of the bones in my body, had strains, sprains, tears; i've had heart issues, liver issues, kidney issues; i have a serious lymph node condition, and have spent the better part of my adult life sick to a point where most people would not be able to function... so i know pain. and this pain is nowhere close to anything i've ever felt before - and i feel it daily.
i think it's a challenge for people to truly understand - i constantly hear "just stay positive!", which is an encouraging and blissful thought.... and i explained to my sister (who coudln't seem to understand why i coudln't just look on the good side of things), 'it's easy to be positive for 24 hours a day 7 days a week, for 6 months... and then there comes one day where it all culminates'. and i'm allowing myself to be sad on that one day. since i have an extremely high pain tolerance (a diagnosed condition, that is part of some of my other health issues - for real, not kidding), people seem to take for granted - or maybe just not understand - that this pain is unlike anything i've ever experienced. i've torn my achilles, broken about 50% of the bones in my body, had strains, sprains, tears; i've had heart issues, liver issues, kidney issues; i have a serious lymph node condition, and have spent the better part of my adult life sick to a point where most people would not be able to function... so i know pain. and this pain is nowhere close to anything i've ever felt before - and i feel it daily.
So for now, I just remember the little things. The friends who still ask me how I'm doing - and they're not talking about physically; the friends who - without question - offer me the bed at overnights, or the front seat in a car; the friends who carry pain killers with them everywhere, as they know how forgetful I am; the family who doesn't ask questions, and just put their arms around me when they can tell I'm in pain. It's things like this (and so much more) that I focus on... while the healing continues.
I'm proud of how far i've come - i've healed far quicker than expected, and i've made progress that gets me high fives at the chiropractor. i realize i talk about it a lot, and i've arrived at the point that i'm ok with that - if i don't talk about it, i think about it, and i don't get out my feelings on the subject. this is a huge development for me, and i realize that the people who matter are ok with it.
a week and a half ago, my extremely talented friend alex and i did a few photo shoots. she told me she wanted to get my back in, and when we looked at the finished products, i was ashamed at how minimally i could arch my back... and then i realized what i was saying.
i'm ok with it now. i can bend. i can stand. i can still laugh, and enjoy life. i can walk (eventually unassisted), and i can bend more than i could 2, 4, 8 months ago. and for that i'm proud. these are all vast improvements from last november, when i was bent at a 90 degree angle, shuffling to walk, and barely getting out of bed, because any movement hurt.
it's that small - seemingly insignificant - curve in the small of my back that i look at, and can see how far i've come.