My Journey

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dispatched from the hospital, drugs, Family, Health, Hospital, Medicine, Mother, Parenting, personal hygiene, PMS, Scoliosis, Surgery, those memories, travel, wheelchair

My imprinted memories from the hospital go far beyond the episode with the toilet.  I am full of many memories I wish would vanish; disappear, because maybe they never happened. We all have those memories, those we wish never happened.  If we just don’t speak of it, or think about it, we will one day forget. Until recently, I was still trying to forget, still trying to get a magic eraser, but it really was all to no avail. Somehow, along the path to forgetting, I realized that it was the path, the journey, which made me–me.

My journey at the hospital was long and arduous. Privacy was ripped away from me, and my life and personal hygiene was in the hands of other people. To make matters much worse, I was menstrual two days after surgery, and all I wish I could do was take care of it by myself–but I was dependent on other people for everything. Which meant that too was in someone else’s hands.  Luckily, morphine hid any embarrassment I might have had, hid any feelings of dread, and it just left me numb.

Undesirably, my morphine was taken away two days prior to going home. Those were the worst two days. I couldn’t sleep. Everything hurt. I couldn’t get comfortable. My body was in array of sharp pain from the top of my spine to the bottom. I was given a high dose of oxicondine, but it did nothing. I still felt every ounce of pain in my body, and I thought I that this was just how it was going to be. Pain would be with me forever, and perhaps I would never feel normal again.

The day I left the hospital, my brother came in followed by a nurse and a wheel chair. He pushed the wheel chair all through the hospital, while my mom parked the car in the front of the hospital.  This memory is foggy. But I remember feeling as if I couldn’t really believe it had just happened to me, but it had, and it was now one step closer to being over. Surgery was now over, and what was left was recovery. But no one ever told me what to expect, and my expectations of what was to come was far different from the reality I was faced with, because my life would never be the way I once knew it. So being pushed through the halls of the hospital, was my transition, leaving my life I once knew, and entering a completely new life. The journey had only just begun.

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What It’s Like

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beep, Health, healthy-living, life, metal detectors, Pain, Scoliosis, yoga

I guess I would say that I am tired of telling everyone the same story. I have metal running down my spine, I sometimes beep in metal detectors, and yes my life is slightly more complicated then the average.  I do take medicine when I cannot fall asleep due to pain, I cannot sit all day, and if I had the possibility to stretch several times a day, I would. Living with scoliosis, is not easy. I am not always comfortable, I usually live with pain, if you find a way to get me a new spine, let me know I am totally down to sign-up. I smile and I ignore it because this is who I am, I like myself, and I am happy, but explaining it to the world is not always easy. This is the truth. Sometimes I just want to blend, sometimes I wish I weren’t the one with the story to tell, sometimes I wish I were just listening. My story is mine alone, no one else will ever be in my shoes, but this is what it’s like. Welcome to a little inside piece of me.

Like An Elephant

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antibacterial soap, Beauty, catheter, Health, Hospital, life, moment of weakness, Orthopedic surgery, Pain, Pepto-Bismol, Scoliosis, Shopping, Skin Care, Surgery, Toilet seat, travel, vacation

After a few days of being in the hospital, my mouth still tasted of medicine, it was sour from the lack of cleanliness. My skin and hair were greasy. They hadn’t been washed. I was fifthly, I smelled of medicine and hospital, of my own bodily sweat and fluids, but I didn’t care. But of course it was at that point when a nurse came in with her Pepto-Bismol colored bucket and a washcloth. Her sole purpose was to clean me, while I lay there motionless.  She added the antibacterial soap to the bucket, and began to dunk the washcloth into the bucket. She “cleaned,” my legs and arms, and then proceeded to wash my hair. I just laid there, drugged and emotionless. At that point I was numb. I had lost all of my feelings to the process, to the surgery, to the reality, to my forever-euphoric medicated state I was in. I just didn’t care. The world around me could fall, and at that point I would have never even noticed. I was blank and emotionless. At least that was what I told myself, but then again, looking back there are those moments that left their imprint in my memory.

The moment I had to stand up to use the bathroom, instead of relying on my, oh so handy catheter, is still fresh my memory. I guess it was a moment of weakness, and that’s why it stayed, why it became imprinted in my thoughts. It wasn’t when they removed the catheter that laid it’s mark, it was the moment that I realized that I had to use a raised hospital toilet.  I couldn’t sit down on a normal toilet seat because it was too low, and I wouldn’t be able to make it back up.  I never commented about this to anyone. I never told anyone how uncomfortable it felt to rely on a raised toilet. It was only temporary, but it was something I never wanted to repeat. It signified a dependence on something I didn’t want to have. Writing this I realize that sometimes I feel like an elephant, were every wrinkle is a memory, an imprinted mark that left its print on my skin.

My Foreign Body

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Back Pain, body, confusion, desperate need, Family, fear, Frida Kahlo, Health, life, Medicine, morphine, Orthopedic surgery, Pain, rheum, room, sand paper, Scoliosis, scoliosis pain, scoliosis surgery, shivers, spine, Surgery, water

As I slowly regained consciousness, the smell of medicine, of sickness, of a hospital transpired throughout my senses. I could barely open my eyes they were stuck together by the rheum gathered in each corner. I began to blink, to regain the lost moisture in each eye. My mouth was also dry, it felt like sand paper, and tasted of sore medicine, there was no moisture, I was parched and in desperate need of water. I wanted to stand, I needed to get out of where I was, I needed to find water. But I couldn’t move, I was trapped to the bed, stuck in my place by the heaviness of my body, by the foreignness of my new form.  Should I cry? I couldn’t, I lacked the energy to do so. I couldn’t think, what had happened? Why couldn’t I move?

My confusion was interrupted by the sound of the nurse and the doctor approaching.  The doctor looked at me and asked, “Can you move your feet?” I didn’t respond I just wiggled my toes for him. “ It looks great,” he gave me a smile, and I am not sure weather he stayed or left, but soon after the nurse said, “ We are waiting for your room, it’s currently being cleaned. Can I get you anything in the mean time?” I asked for some water, and my mama. She came back with ice chips, and said that I could see my family as soon as the room was ready. I grabbed the cup of ice from her, as if I hadn’t had water in days. The extremity of my thirst led to me downing the cup of ice, enjoying each chip as it moisturized my body, and allowed me to feel alive again. It was really all to no avail, because soon after it all came right back up. Vomiting water right after surgery felt like death. The pain left my entire body in shivers, I had never experienced anything like it, and I didn’t want to go through it again. Clenching my thirst was not worth the effort I had to make to vomit, and definitely not worth the pain it left me in.  To relieve the discomfort I was in, I was given morphine, and it truly did make every so much better.

I woke up in my room, to my entire family staring at me. They looked worried, concerned, as if they really had no idea what to expect. In fact, I didn’t either. I had two IV’s in one hand, and one in my neck. I had catheter, and a morphine button, an endless supply of “happy medicine,” given to me in small doses every 15 minutes. I must say that I was in shock. Somehow I never really considered the fact that the new addition to my spine would make me feel so much heavier and so stiff. I felt as though I had bricks on top of me and a piece of wood strapped to my back. My entire body was foreign, I did not know how to move in my new shape, any slight adjustments would cause trickling pain throughout my back.

Borrowed by: World Art Resources

It was then that I realized that I had given up my ability to move, to be flexible, for a smaller curve and for life. The exchange was something I hadn’t considered until that point.

 

Flexibility: Don’t Take It For Granted

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average person, back, Back Pain, bending, flexibility, getting out of bed, Health, hips, innovation, inspiration, life, mannerisms, motions, Pain, prime example, Scoliosis, spine, story

I miss my flexibility. I miss just being able to move-normally. As kid I was so flexible. I remember being able to do a back-bend without a problem. Nowadays, I am happy if I can just pull off the regular, everyday motions. Sometimes I feel so robotic in my mannerisms. Like a piece of steel, I am immobile and I can only move so much. There are certain times, when it becomes apparent to me that my motions are just not like everyone else’s.

Getting out of bed is a prime example. My way of get out of bed looks very much, like what I would picture an eighty-old getting out of bed, slow and calculated. Generally, I turn to the side and rise-up using my hands.

My way of gettting out of bed. Borrowed by: Pharmainfo

There are times when I rise, just facing forward and lifting my body forward, but what happens is that I become a sort of sea-saw, and I get stuck in the middle, not sure if I am going to make it all the way up or if I am going to fall right back down. Most days I don’t choose that option of rising.

I wish I could do this. Borrowed by: Innovation Games

Another time when it becomes very apparent is when I have to turn. My body just doesn’t turn very well. So in order to turn I have turn my entire body and not just the upper body…There goes my dream of having really toned obliques!

I can't do this. Borrowed by: 123rf

And of course there is bending. I am very fortune to have very flexible hips making it relatively easy for me to bend. The only problem is that it doesn’t always feel super great to bend. In fact it usually takes me a few seconds longer than the average person to make it bend down, and of course to make it back up.

My bend is really really straight.

In order to avoid bending so often, I have developed really agile toes making it easy for me to pick up anything with my toes. This doesn’t work if I am not at home, because how strange would it be if I randomly went around picking things up with my feet, but it works very well in the comfort of my own space.

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Sleep is Interesting, isn’t it?

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ambiance, deep sleeper, exceptions, falling asleep, Health, knees, Scoliosis, scoliosis pain relief, Sleep, sleep pillow, sleep positions

We all have our certain positions, in which we have to be in, in order to fall asleep. It’s like if one thing is not right with the position it can really mess with the ambiance. For me, well I am an extremely deep sleeper, I can sleep just about anywhere in just about any position. The problem is not the sleep it’s falling asleep. Generally, I fall asleep really easily. Of course there are a few exceptions. I can’t fall asleep with the sound of snoring, which is strange, because I have no problem falling asleep with other noise, and I can’t fall sleep, or even sleep for that matter, if I am in pain. In order to relieve pain, or simply to prevent pain I use a pillow underneath my knees.

Borrowed from Maddieruud

Most mornings I wake up with the pillow somewhere on the floor, so I am not sure it is actually doing much, but some how I sleep better with it.

 

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One Step Closer

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dónde están los ladrones, Health, magnet lab, MRI, popcorn ceiling, Scoliosis, Shakira, shakira cd, Surgery

Have you ever had an MRI?

My first and possibly the last one I will ever have done, happened relatively soon after we found a pot a gold.  Getting my MRI was like breaking through a milestone, it meant that I was one step closer to surgery and one step closer to living a normal life.

MRI : Borrowed from Magnet Lab

Prior to getting my MRI done, I was told to bring my favorite CD so that they could play it for me while I lay there. The day of the MRI had arrived, and my mama and I arrived to the clinic at 7am. As usually we sat in the waiting room, while the nurse called me back.  Sitting there waiting for them to call me, I gripped my Shakira CD, Dónde están los ladrones? with anxious anticipation. I had no idea what was ahead of me, and I didn’t really know what to expect. Being the first to arrive I was the first to be called back, I stepped back alone and my mama waited for me in the waiting room. The nurse handed me a gown and I handed her my CD.  I changed in the bathroom, and when I was finished the nurse was still there waiting for me. She instructed me to lay down face up, on the platform that was positioned in front of me.  I lay down and the platform moved into the machine, and that was it, I was getting an MRI done. The wall of the machines encompassed my entire body and I only had a few inches of space. Inside there was a beige popcorn ceiling. Waiting for Shakira, to come on, I counted the popcorn in the ceiling instead. This didn’t last long, because I quickly fell asleep to the sound of the loud repetitions the MRI machine was making.

At the end of the experience, I was given my CD, and that was it. That was the first and last time I had an MRI done on my spine. It was nothing completely out of the ordinary, but it meant that my surgery was just one more step closer.

 

Thirteen Years Ago…

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Clinic, Health, Medicine, Nemours, Orthopedic Surgeon, Orthopedic surgery, Surgery

It’s been thirteen years since I stepped into Nemours clinic for the first time. Time passes, years go by, and now it feels like a dream I once had. A faded memory of a time that once was, and now has been distorted through time. Like thick fog that surrounds an autumn day, my memory has been washed away only leaving traces of the events. Those traces are moments that left scars, scars to be remembered even years after the time has passed.

Borrowed from: Nemours Twitter Page

Thirteen years after, I can say that Nemours clinic was a very nice clinic, which in its appearance resembled a hospital, it even smelled like one. It was painted in various shades of blue, and on the walls were cartoons and drawings made by all of their patients, all those children that entered and left Nemours clinic. I was one of the masses; I was one more child that had stepped into Nemours clinic in hopes of recovery.

From what I remember, Dr. Mark Sinclair was a very young Doctor. He had just recently been hired as an Orthopedic Surgeon at Nemours clinic he was married and at that point hadn’t had any children of his own. He was the kind of Doctor any child would want, young, nice, confident, and reassuring. My appointment with him was short and successful, for the most part.  I was going to have surgery, but I would not have my full spine fused, he would only work on the top curve and leave the bottom curve alone. The only problem was that I did not have health insurance, and finding the means to pay for the surgery was one more step in the journey.

 

 

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The Steps I once Made

Tags

Chiropractic, Health, Orthopedic, Scoliosis, scoliosis pain relief, Treatment

After receiving the news that I had to have surgery from the orthopedic, I had a sense of urgency. I didn’t want to risk my health, and my life. I was focused on seeing Dr. Price and on having the surgery done, and it needed to be fast.

But, both Dr. Price and having surgery done, proved to be a much more difficult adventure than I had envisioned. After I disclosed the news to my family that I had to have surgery, my brother called Nemours clinic to make me an appointment to see Dr. Price. He spoke to the nurse about seeing Dr. price, but unfortunately, due to his popularity, he wasn’t available for another four months. At that point four months seemed like an eternity, a giant obstacle that was not worth the wait. So instead of waiting for Dr. Price, my brother made me an appointment to see Dr. Mark Sinclair.

Dr. Mark Sinclair, Borrowed from Children’s Mercy Hosptial and Clinic

My appointment was scheduled and it was in two weeks from that point. For my first visit, I needed to bring all of my medical records, including all of my previous x-rays, which meant that I had to pay a visit to Dr. Gray’s office.

Paying a visit to Dr. Gray’s office was not easy. It was difficult to step into that office, to see Dr. Gray and Tracy, two people who had denied me the opportunity to see another Doctor. In retrospect, I should have made it known to them that I didn’t need their help that I had found an Orthopedic and that I was going to have surgery, but I didn’t.  I walked in, asked for my medical records and left. I wasn’t my friendly usual self I was cold, and dry, I had no desire to speak to any of them. Perhaps that was the best choice. They didn’t get an explanation because they didn’t deserve one. I didn’t see them again for many years, and I am glad that was the case.

With my medical records in hand I felt ready for whatever step I needed to take. I was ready to meet Dr. Mark Sinclair, the doctor who was going to change my life and my future. I was elated and ready.

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Living Lopsided

Tags

Back Pain, Health, Scoliosis, scoliosis pain relief

Do you have any reason to feel lopsided?

I know I do, and in fact I think it’s common knowledge that we all have one foot bigger than the other.  I too have one slightly bigger than the other, but this post isn’t about feet, it’s about legs, and I happen to have one slightly longer than the other. To the naked eye its invisible, it could go completely unnoticed. In fact, I myself hadn’t even thought about it, until a year ago Mia: Queen Been of Everything Homeopathic told me that I should buy one shoe insert for my left-heal.  Not thinking twice about it, I went to the pharmacy to purchase a shoe insert. In the beginning, it was extremely uncomfortable, but now I realize the difference it’s made.  All of a sudden I was slightly more balanced, and it was such a simple solution.