Those closest to me might say I am a little strange. Or, they may say I am a little average, I’ve never thought to ask. But one thing they would say is I’m a little bit of a medical mix up. Having written about the surgeries before, I’ve talked about the first three fusions. Today, I want to talk about Number Four.

It came about because one day, while driving home from a doctor’s appointment I had a pain in the neck. Like a real pain in the neck. Another pain in the neck. It kept me up all night and was blindingly painful. Once you’ve had a fusion, they warn you about a couple things. Hardware failure and breaking the vertebrae above or below the fusion site. This felt like that, but I’m not one to cry wolf or the sky is falling, but… After a sleepless 24 hours, I decided to go to the emergency room.

Now, when you go in and tell them what you think is wrong, they do not believe you. They pass you off as there to get meds (I have a prescription for pain meds) and they ask, “What do you want us to do?” An x-ray? Is what I wanted. Check for broken hardware and broken bones. I cannot do that. They finally did that and set me in a dentist-like chair.

Surprise! Broken hardware. I had sheared a screw off in the plate holding my cervical spine in place and it appeared the fusion didn’t fuse properly. The slight shift could be causing the pain. They moved to a hallway to wait – where I nearly collapsed from the pain. I can handle a lot; this was too much. Another doctor came by and saw the distress I was in and had me immediately moved. They administered pain medications and ensured the x-rays and a report were sent to my surgeon.

Fast forward some months and an MRI later, and I was slated for surgery. However, they must go in through the back (of my neck) to do the repair. I will have instrumentation (rods and screws) inserted, they will leave the existing plate in, and this is a higher risk surgery. It is more hours under the knife, the spinal cord is exposed, and because they do not know the exact condition (as the MRI is filled with ‘artifacts’ or noise, cast from the existing hardware), until they open me up, they do not know the extent of the damage.

Surgery day comes and we are under rigorous Covid 19 protocols. I am dropped at the door and get myself checked in. All goes well. Once back in my ward, I try to unlock my suitcase and get my phone, as I have to contact my family. Unlocking one’s suitcase while very medicated, without one’s glasses proves to be a comedy of its own.

Then I discovered they had shaved the back of my head… I had a ‘bitchin’ undercut. My beautiful, long hair had been shaved clean off from the tops of my ears down. I was mortified. I was nearly 47. I was not to be rockin’ and undercut. What was left of the lovely French braid I’d put in that morning was a bloody stump. This was terrible. At least my bed had a window view.

Then I coughed.

As an asthmatic, just coming out of anesthetic, coughing isn’t abnormal. At all. However, during Covid, coughing is a no-go zone. I explained I coughed because I have asthma. I was whisked out of the ward and into a semi-private room and tested for Covid. (spoiler: It wasn’t Covid)

I woke the next morning with a pain in my left arm. Since all this started in 2012, my left arm has taken over. My right has been the weak one without feeling, but the left I can count on to carry things, hold the chopsticks when I eat as the right is too tired. But this pain was beyond. I could not lift the arm. It hung like a limp noodle. Not that I could not lift it because of pain, that was part of it, but I could barely move it. It just would not go no matter what my brain told it to do.

The surgeon came back to check on me and he was stumped. They did an x-ray which showed nothing, and an MRI would have been pointless as the fusion would just show artifacts. My surgeon had a specialist on his team who came and saw me. He specialized in injuries to this area. Through his testing, Dr. J diagnosed me with Brachial Plexitis. In many cases, time, coupled with physiotherapy restores the arm to ‘near 100% usage’.

I didn’t like the ‘near 100% usage’ but that was the best they could give me and at least we knew what was wrong. It was difficult to figure out as it isn’t a very common condition. My surgeon himself had never seen it – brachial plexitis is rare. One in every 100,000 persons may be affected! Dr. J and I worked on several exercises to build strength and range of motion. Essential for me to continue doing. One of which was wriggling my hand and forearm through dry pasta.

While the pain is a distant memory, I can tell you it was, by far, the worst pain I’ve encountered. Counting hours between pain medication doses is not something I’ve ever done – but I did then. Many hours were spent in tears, wishing I’d never had the surgery. Slowly, hour by hour, day by day, it did improve. While I have continued weakness in my left arm (I cannot reliably carry a cup of coffee), the hand is almost normal.

The surgeon did say the damage in the neck was worse than they could see on the imaging. It was essential that I have the surgery as the first surgery, while first thought to be successful, was not. The nerves were not successfully released, but now they are. My spinal cord is now not in danger of depression by bulging discs.

Surgery is never a ‘cure’ for pain. I still have pain. The weakness is persistent. But the integrity of my spine is intact, and at the end of the day, that is the point of it all. I can smile and know I am unique, and I am bionic! I am one in one hundred thousand!