Looking Back at the Terror
Looking back to that very day of surgery is troubling to me for many reasons. I want to go back and change every single thing that was done, starting with not using an orthopedic surgeon on my spine. That was the biggest mistake, and I am not afraid to speak my opinion on that matter. My condition was a very rare condition which needed a neurosurgeon. People will ask me why I did not use a neurosurgeon. Well, remember, this particular Orthopedic Surgeon had helped me once before, when nobody else knew what Bertolotti's Syndrome was. In my mind he was my "Hero". He hadn't done that previous surgery in 30 years and had fixed me in 2011. I had no reason at that time to not trust his hands. He also was helping my husband, who was having a "standard procedure". My husband and I remember asking this particular Dr "do we need to consult with a neurosurgeon" his response was "why would we need a neurosurgeon". As if he was God. I will never forget that tone he used. Ever! It still rings in my ears to this day.
He tells my family the procedure will take 30 minutes, 3 1/2 hours later the surgery is done. I can not feel my legs, but they are spasming, kicking involuntarily. Pain down my lumbar spine and legs, pain that is so severe, I do not feel it is surgical pain. I continue to complain about my pain levels. More and more medication is given. The med list is filled with every medication you can name. My legs are not moving voluntarily, only involuntarily. My intuition tells me something isnt right. My bladder and bowel has shut down completely. Specialists come in to address those issues. I still see the same Urologist to this day, he is kind and compassionate. I am probably the youngest one in his office. I am diagnosed with Neurogenic Bladder. Damage done from neurological trauma to the spine. I will eventually learn I have to self catheterize daily for the rest of my life. I am confused, thats brushed off as medication side effects instead of neuro trauma. Although they take me down for a head CT thinking a am having a TIA (stroke). There's the other thing I would change, never have a surgery at Boswell Hospital, they are too focused on the geriatric population, I truly believe they would have caught the signs of a neurological (spinal cord injury) at another hospital. I am trying so hard to tell them my legs were so painful, I could not walk, but they shoved that off as surgical pain.
Then...the night came, Phil went home, it was the most terrifying time in my life. I have lived through a lot of trauma in my life, but this, this is up there with the trauma I have experienced. They gave me a call light, I kept hitting the button as I was in excruciating pain that was NOT being managed through the night. Then the unthinkable happened, never in all my years of working in the medical field have I ever witnessed such sadness. The nurses Aide/Tech came in my room and "dropped" the call light beside my bed where I could not reach it anymore. She then told the nurses "I can not handle hearing her anymore". She did close the door. I cried. I picked up the phone and called my husband, it was the middle of the night, I picked up the phone and called my dad (In Florida, 3 hours ahead) I cried to them, they felt helpless. I grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, I wrote down her name and quoted what she said. Although I can’t read my own writing, I still have the paper to this day. One day I will burn it. The next day when Phil got there, he discussed with patient services the care I was getting. I was in too much pain and too sick too care. I wanted to go home, where I felt safe. I had many visitors of friends and family during the day and I knew they would keep me safe. I couldn't speak well and I was mostly incoherent. I have never felt so close to death, but I had so much to live for. My son was in deployment training in the Army, and he had his whole life ahead of him, thats what motivated me to get home.
He tells my family the procedure will take 30 minutes, 3 1/2 hours later the surgery is done. I can not feel my legs, but they are spasming, kicking involuntarily. Pain down my lumbar spine and legs, pain that is so severe, I do not feel it is surgical pain. I continue to complain about my pain levels. More and more medication is given. The med list is filled with every medication you can name. My legs are not moving voluntarily, only involuntarily. My intuition tells me something isnt right. My bladder and bowel has shut down completely. Specialists come in to address those issues. I still see the same Urologist to this day, he is kind and compassionate. I am probably the youngest one in his office. I am diagnosed with Neurogenic Bladder. Damage done from neurological trauma to the spine. I will eventually learn I have to self catheterize daily for the rest of my life. I am confused, thats brushed off as medication side effects instead of neuro trauma. Although they take me down for a head CT thinking a am having a TIA (stroke). There's the other thing I would change, never have a surgery at Boswell Hospital, they are too focused on the geriatric population, I truly believe they would have caught the signs of a neurological (spinal cord injury) at another hospital. I am trying so hard to tell them my legs were so painful, I could not walk, but they shoved that off as surgical pain.
Then...the night came, Phil went home, it was the most terrifying time in my life. I have lived through a lot of trauma in my life, but this, this is up there with the trauma I have experienced. They gave me a call light, I kept hitting the button as I was in excruciating pain that was NOT being managed through the night. Then the unthinkable happened, never in all my years of working in the medical field have I ever witnessed such sadness. The nurses Aide/Tech came in my room and "dropped" the call light beside my bed where I could not reach it anymore. She then told the nurses "I can not handle hearing her anymore". She did close the door. I cried. I picked up the phone and called my husband, it was the middle of the night, I picked up the phone and called my dad (In Florida, 3 hours ahead) I cried to them, they felt helpless. I grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, I wrote down her name and quoted what she said. Although I can’t read my own writing, I still have the paper to this day. One day I will burn it. The next day when Phil got there, he discussed with patient services the care I was getting. I was in too much pain and too sick too care. I wanted to go home, where I felt safe. I had many visitors of friends and family during the day and I knew they would keep me safe. I couldn't speak well and I was mostly incoherent. I have never felt so close to death, but I had so much to live for. My son was in deployment training in the Army, and he had his whole life ahead of him, thats what motivated me to get home.
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