I Passed!

On Monday, May 17,  I went for my Pre-Admission Test in preparation for my upcoming discectomy, date TBD.

My PA was a lovely young lady by the name of Angela, who had been on the job for about a month. She took my blood pressure (“Excellent!”), stethoscoped me (“Wow! Your lungs sound clean!”) and asked me the usual questions about my basic health: “Nausea? Dizziness? Alcohol use? Drug use? Depressed?”  To this last, I responded that I was a little bit bummed because Lost was ending, but other than that, life is good.

She asked me what type of surgery I was going to have, and when I told her, she waved it off as if I’d said I was going to have a splinter removed from my finger. I’ve gotten that response from just about every medical-type I’ve talked to, which eases my mind somewhat.

When Andrea was finished with me, I went over to the hospital building of the little compound, where they took four or five vials of blood, a few chest x-rays (why they took pictures of my chest when it’s my lower back that’s getting cut open is a mystery to me), a container of urine, and did an EKG.

The end result, as far as I can determine, is that I’m healthy enough to go under the knife.

Now all I need is a date and time.

Updated: Just got a call from the Doc’s office. Surgery is scheduled for June 8.

Updated: Got a call an hour later. The office girl said, “If there’s a cancellation, would you mind moving your surgery up?” I said, “To when?” She said, “Tomorrow.”  Sorry, Misty. I need at least a couple of days notice if I’m going to have back surgery!

What If I Fail The Test?

So the wheels have been set in motion for my back surgery.

I met with the surgeon a couple of days ago and told him the nerve block wasn’t blocking out my nerves too well, and, as I mentioned in my last post, I’m not willing to spend whatever time I may have left shuffling around in pain. Let’s do this!

He agreed that all nonsurgical methods have been explored, and this really is the only way I’m going to get any relief.

He’s aware from our previous conversations that I do a bit of MMA training, and he knows that I really don’t want to be away from it for any length of time. He used to train himself years ago, and knows that if you’re away from it too long, it’s tough to get back up to speed.

So he told me Tuesday that he’s going to do the minimum amount of surgery that I need to relieve my problem, which is the open discectomy  that I wrote about previously. This would require only a day or two in hospital, and I wouldn’t be laid up a significant amount of time.. The absolute minimum, he explained, would be endoscopic surgery, but that may be only a short-term solution in my particular situation.

More intense options would be fusion or disc replacement, which would pretty much be overkill, and stretch my convalescence time out way too far for my taste.

(Keep in mind as I explain this that I tend to hear doctors the way dogs hear humans in that Gary Larsen cartoon:

which is to say, it mostly goes in one ear and out the other. So if you’re reading the above exchange and thinking the doc doesn’t know what he’s talking about, don’t; I might be remembering the conversation incorrectly.)

Anyroad, the surgery will be done sometime in June (“Everybody wants it done in June,” he said when I made my request). He’ll have to check his schedule and get back to me with an exact date.

The first step, though, is pre-admission testing, which is all sorts of blood work and so on. I report to the testing station on May 17.

I Got Nerve! (And It’s Pinched)

Those of you who have been enjoying my medical adventures for the past year or so are in for a treat: I’m having back surgery! And I’m going to be sharing the details along this journey with my faithful readers (me and one other person).

I may have mentioned elsewhere in these incoherent ramblings that I have a herniated disc at L5-S1, which is pinching a nerve running down my right leg, causing me large amounts of pain when I’m on my feet for too long (“too long” varying  from 10 minutes upward, depending on circumstances).  The discomfort can be barely bearable; if I know I’m going to be on my feet for a goodly length of time, I bring along a walking stick.

Over the past few months, I’ve had a pair of steroid epidurals, a nerve block, and been prescribed Neurontin, none of which has provided any relief. It appears that the only option left for me is surgery.

I won’t know all of the details for certain until next week, when I have a second meeting with my surgeon. At our first encounter, he examined my MRI and showed me what he suggested: a discectomy (at first I thought he said “vasectomy”, which caused me no small consternation). I told him I’d think it over and give him a call in a week. Only a few days earlier, I’d had a nerve block injection, and I wanted to give that a shot at working.

I hit up the internet for a little research, and found this at About.com:

A discectomy is a surgery done to remove a herniated disc from the spinal canal. When a disc herniation occurs, a fragment of the normal spinal disc is dislodged. This fragment may press against the spinal cord or the nerves that surround the spinal cord. This pressure causes the symptoms that are characteristic of herniated discs

The surgical treatment of a herniated disc is to remove the fragment of spinal disc that is causing the pressure on the nerve. This procedure is called a discectomy. The traditional surgery is called an open discectomy. An open discectomy is a procedure where the surgeon uses a small incision and looks at the actual herniated disc in order to remove the disc and relieve the pressure on the nerve.

How is a discectomy performed?
A discectomy is performed under general anesthesia. The procedure takes about an hour, depending on the extent of the disc herniation, the size of the patient, and other factors. A discectomy is done with the patient lying face down, and the back pointing upwards.

In order to remove the fragment of herniated disc, your surgeon will make an incision over the center of your back. The incision is usually about 3 centimeters in length. Your surgeon then carefully dissects the muscles away from the bone of your spine. Using special instruments, your surgeon removes a small amount of bone and ligament from the back of the spine. This part of the procedure is called a laminotomy.

Once this bone and ligament is removed, your surgeon can see, and protect, the spinal nerves. Once the disc herniation is found, the herniated disc fragment is removed. Depending on the appearance and the condition of the remaining disc, more disc fragments may be removed in hopes of avoiding another fragment of disc from herniating in the future. Once the disc has been cleaned out from the area around the nerves, the incision is closed and a bandage is applied.

What is the recovery from a discectomy?
Patients often awaken from surgery with complete resolution of their leg pain; however, it is not unusual for these symptoms to take several weeks to slowly dissipate. Pain around the incision is common, but usually well controlled with oral pain medications. Patients often spend one night in the hospital, but are usually then discharged the following day. A lumbar corset brace may help with some symptoms of pain, but is not necessary in all cases.

Gentle activities are encouraged after surgery, such as sitting upright and walking. Patients must avoid lifting heavy objects, and should try not to bend or twist the back excessively. Patients should avoid strenuous activity or exercise until cleared by their doctor.

What are the potential complications of a discectomy?
The most common problem of a discectomy is that there is a chance that another fragment of disc will herniate and cause similar symptoms down the road. This is a so-called recurrent disc herniation, and the risk of this occurring is about 10-15%.

Most patients find relief of much, if not all, of their symptoms from a discectomy. However, the success of the procedure is about 85-90%, meaning that 10% of patients who undergo a discectomy will still have persistent symptoms. Patients who have symptoms for long periods of time, or severe neurologic deficits (such as significant weakness) are at higher risk of incomplete recovery.

Other risks of surgery include spinal fluid leaks, bleeding, and infection. All of these can usually be treated, but may require a longer hospitalization or additional surgery.

What is endoscopic microdiscectomy?
Newer techniques may allow your surgeon to perform a procedure called an endoscopic discectomy. In an endoscopic discectomy your surgeon uses special instruments and a camera to remove the herniated disc through very small incisions.

The endoscopic microdiscectomy is a procedure that accomplishes the same goal as a traditional open discectomy, removing the herniated disc, but uses a smaller incision. Instead of actually looking at the herniated disc fragment and removing it, your surgeon uses a small camera to find the fragment and special instruments to remove it. The procedure may not require general anesthesia, and is done through a smaller incision with less tissue dissection. Your surgeon uses x-ray and the camera to “see” where the disc herniation is, and special instruments to remove the fragment.

Endoscopic microdiscectomy is appropriate in some specific situations, but not in all. Many patients are better served with a traditional open discectomy. While the idea of a faster recovery is nice, it is more important that the surgery is properly performed. Therefore, if open discectomy is more appropriate in your situation, then the endoscopic procedure should not be done. Discuss with your doctor if endoscopic microdiscectomy may be appropriate for you.

While this may seem like minor surgery to some (including the doctor who had been treating me), you have to realize that I’ve never had invasive surgery. The only procedures I’ve been in an operating room for were lipotripsies, and those involved pounding my kidney stones with sonic waves, not scalpel blades.

But by the time a week had passed, I found that the nerve block was ineffective, and decided that I didn’t want to spend the rest of my days hobbling about in pain if I didn’t have to. When the surgeon’s office called to follow-up with me (I know I said I’d call him in a week, but couldn’t bring myself to pick up the phone and say,”Please stick something sharp into my spine.”), I made an appointment to talk things over with him.

That’s next Tuesday.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

I Can See Clearly, Not

 

Today I had an appointment with iDoc. I go see him on a regular basis because of my macular degeneration. For the first couple of years after I was diagnosed, he would inject me with Avastin in an attempt to salvage my eye.  The injection does not go into my arm, or my hip, or my buttoral maiximus, but directly into my eyeball.

It doesn’t hurt (much), truth be told, but it’s still stressful.  For me, at least. iDoc performs this procedure so often that he has two “injection days” a week. And I’ve had it done 11 times over the past few years. But no matter how often it’s been done, and no matter how much I tell myself that it doesn’t hurt, there’s still something about seeing that needle approach out of the corner of your eye, and watching the fluid squirt out of the tip and dissipate throughout…can we please talk about something else now?

Actually, November was the last time he felt the need to inject, and before that it was July of 2008. so I can’t complain too much. Stlll, these monthly “possible injections” don’t give me much to look forward to, other than the relief and thankfulness of iDoc saying,”It looks OK, I don’t think we’ll need to do an injection this month.”

However, in order to be properly examined, my pupils need to be dilated to the Maximillian, and after having extremely bright lights probing all the way to the back of my eyeballs, I generally leave his office with a splitting headache and a strong sense of “Where the hell am I?”

Driving back to the office on a day like today is the worst: not a cloud in the afternoon sky and snow as far as the eye can see. Or could see, if everything wasn’t so bright.

I’ve often thought I should just go back and sit in the waiting room for a half-hour or so until I can see without squinting again, but I’m afraid if I do that, he’ll have a change of heart and pull me back into his little chamber with a clamps and needles. No, thanks. I’ll make my break while I can.

But if I were you, I’d stay off the roads for a good half-hour after I leave his office.

Lose Ten Pounds Today!

This will be a short post, as I don’t have the strength to write much, even today.

Yesterday (Saturday) morning, I woke up at 3:30 a.m.  Nothing unusual about that; I generally wake up at about that time every day.  Don’t know why, just do.  Most of the time I roll over and go back to sleep.  Other times, I toss and turn  until about a half-hour before my alarm goes off, then go back to sleep.

When I woke up yesterday morning, though, something was different. I felt uncomfortable, bloated. I’d had (too many) pork chops for dinner the night before, washed down by (only two) red beers, so I figured I had a slight case of overeatitis.  I chewed a Pepcid from the bottle I keep on my bedstand (acid reflux, you see). And rolled over.  And didn’t go back to sleep.

Instead, I fell into one of those half-sleeps, the feverish/delirious kind, where your dreams seem more real than reality, except my friend from high school had a head shaped like Gumby, and I was at a formal party wearing flowered shoes.

Things went on like this for literally a couple of hours. At 7:45 a.m., I sat straight up in bed, wide-awake, and bolted for my bathroom.

I didn’t make it all the way to the toilet for my first outpouring, only as far as the sink.  Of course. For the past few days I’ve had issues with it backing up, but procrastinated fixing it; this will teach me to put off mundane household chores.

I made it to the American Standard for the next couple of rounds. After I felt sure that there was nothing more to eject, I washed my hands and rinsed my mouth out (in the kitchen, the bathroom sink being backed up with two inches of liquefied pork chops) and crawled, exhausted, back into bed.

I don’t know how long it was before the next wave hit – I’d long lost interest in clock-watching – but it seemed to be more violent than earlier. By the time it was over, sweat was pouring off of me like Gatorade off of the winning coach.

By this time, I was fully blaming the chops, tasty as they may have been.  I opened up the browser on my iPhone and Googled “food poisoning”.   The research I did suggested I may instead be afflicted with viral gastroenteritis.  Before I could get too far into my research, another symptom appeared: the dreaded diarrhea.  Thank God I didn’t have to make do with the sink this time (har!). I had two bouts which left me feeling quite drained. Literally.

The rest of the day I spent listlessly walking around the house or napping. By the time I turned in for the night, after keeping down a Cup O’ Noodles, my symptoms were reduced to a nagging headache and occasional abdominal cramps.

Today I’ve felt tapped out, with the odd visit from Mr. Nausea. The weirdest thing is that every time I hiccup or sneeze or cough, it feels like I have broken ribs. Can that happen with vomiting?

I had a bowl of Campbell’s Chunky Beef Soup for lunch, which sat well.  But I made a nice ribeye for dinner and only got down three forkfuls before wrapping and storing it for another day.

The upside?  According to my bathroom scale, I lost 10 pounds yesterday.

But I wouldn’t recommend anyone try my particular weight-loss plan!

Happy New Year (Update)

Turns out what ails me actually has a name: Lymphedema. According to the Mayo Clinic website, “Lymphedema refers to swelling that generally occurs in one of your arms or legs. Although lymphedema tends to affect just one arm or leg, sometimes both arms or both legs may be swollen.

Lymphedema is caused by a blockage in your lymphatic system, an important part of your immune and circulatory systems. The blockage prevents lymph fluid from draining well, and as the fluid builds up, the swelling continues.

There’s no cure for lymphedema, but it can be controlled. Controlling lymphedema involves diligent care of your affected limb.”

The controlling and diligent care involves, in my case, Lymphedema Therapy. The routine is, I lay on a table. The therapist spends thirty minutes or so massaging the lymph node under my left arm, the path the fluid is supposed to flow, and mostly my foot, the aim being to get the fluid moving like it’s supposed to. Then my foot, toes and calf are wrapped in compression wrap, to deter the fluid from re-entering my extermity.

I have to keep this getup on 23/7

I’ve had four of these sessions so far, and my therapist believes two more next week should finish my treatment. I have to say the whole thing sounded sort of goofy to me at first, but the results are pretty amazing.

Hopefully, though, it will be a long, long while before I need it again.

Happy New Year, My Foot!

December 31, 2009. Out with the old, in with the new, blah, blah blah. New year, new resolutions, new opportunities. How’s that working out for me so far? Let’s see, shall we?

First, we need to climb into the Wayback Machine and set the dials for May, 2003. I woke up one morning, got out of bed, and almost fell flat on my face. I had such an intense pain in my right ankle that I immediately wondered what I might have done during the night to break it.

Making a long story short, as they say, I hobbled to the nearest medical center, where, for the next four months, I was x-rayed, EEG’d, EKG’d, MRI’d, CAT scanned, Ultrasounded, contributed gallons of blood and urine, sent to specialists, tested for arthritis, gout, diabetes, kidney problems, liver problems – I think they may have done a pregnancy test on me by mistake. At the end of the testing period, they looked at my swollen foot, shrugged their physicianly shoulders, and gave me their learned diagnosis: “That’s just how you are.” They couldn’t tell me what caused the problem, or how to make it go away. That’s just how I was.

In the years since, this strange myxedema has reappeared at random intervals, attacking either foot at it’s strange whim, sometimes causing excruciating pain in the ball of my foot, arches, heels or ankles. Sometimes it lasts for a few hours, sometimes a few weeks. There seems to be no pattern.

Now that that’s established, let’s check and see how my new year’s progressed.

December 31 – January 3: The old familiar tingling had reappeared, and my left foot started to puff up. Pain in the ball of my foot, or, as I call that area, my “toe knuckles”. By New Year’s Morning, I couldn’t stuff my foot into a shoe; started wearing a sandal. Thought the look might get me on Peopleofwalmart.com. Went grocery shopping Sunday; while hobbling around on my swollen and painful left foot, the pinched nerve that causes pain in my right leg started acting up. At one point, I found myself standing in the pasta aisle, considering calling someone to come and get me, because I was convinced I couldn’t take another step. Of course, though, I could, and made my way home.

January 4-5: Started feeling sharp pains in my left knee. Made it difficult to get into and out of my car. Cameron (my 15-year-old) had to help me get undressed for bed.

January 6: Cam helped me get dressed, and we left a little early, but we were still too late to his bus stop. I drove him to school, but the trip back to the office was excruciating. When I got there, I found that I could not get out of my car. I simply could not move my left leg. A couple of my co-workers helped me get out of the front seat of my car and into the back seat; they then drove me to the ER of a local hospital. After a short exam and an x-ray, the ER physician told me I had a calcium deposit on my knee, and referred me to an orthopedic doctor. They prescribed Percocet, gave me some crutches, and said “Goombye”.

January 7: Knee/foot issues pushed to the side. I have a kidney stone, dammit! The lipthotripsy was scheduled in advance, and everyone agreed that my edema problems would not interfere with my non-invasive surgery. The procedure is, according to the physician who performed it, “very successful”.

January 7-10: Rehab from surgery at my co-parent’s house. She makes me comfortable and dinner, and I’m eternally grateful.

January 10: Back at work, trying to figure out how to work crutches, and trying to remember to piss through the strainer and collect my kidney stone particles so my urologist can examine them. Ankle and knee still painful, but not as bad.

January 11: First visit to orthopedic guy, who looks at my x-rays, takes some of his own, and agrees I have a problem. He shows me the calcium deposit on my x-ray, prescribes an MRI, and gives me a pamphlet explaining arthroscopic knee surgery.

January 12: Visit to Comprehensive Pain Center to discuss the herniated disc and pinched nerve in my lower back. Appointment made for January 19 to administer cortisone injection.

January 13: MRI.

January 14: Orthopedic doc looks at the MRI results and decides surgery is not necessary. He can’t even locate the alleged calcium deposit. All he sees now is fluid and arthritis. However, he’s concerned that my ankle is still swollen, even though there’s no pain. So he gives me a knee sleeve and some Voltaten gel to swab on my kneecap, and schedules me for some lymphedema therapy next week.

So that’s how my 2010 is going so far. How you doin’?