SCROLL DOWN ONLY IF YOU DON’T HAVE A WEAK STOMACH

Day 0: Surgery Day

Surgery is officially done and I’m back home—still a little foggy, but awake enough to share an update.

Here’s the rundown: I now have paddle leads in my spine. The top incision (closed with 11 staples) is where the neurosurgeon placed the leads, which are tunneled under my skin down to the battery pack in the lower incision (sealed with even more staples(8)); a total of 19 staples.

What made things more complicated was the scar tissue from nearly seven years of prior back procedures. My surgeon had to remove part of a vertebrae (something we’d discussed before surgery), but once inside, he discovered scar tissue exactly where he had hoped to place the leads. Because of that, one side may never get the relief we were hoping for. The Boston Scientific rep who was in the OR believes they can still program the device to help, but it may not be as effective as originally planned.

The stimulator won’t be turned on for several days to give it time to “settle in” and reduce the risk of complications. For now, it’s just me, my new scars, and a lot of pain medication.

For perspective—you can still see my two-inch fusion scar from a prior surgery on the right side above my tattoo in the photo.

It’s been harder than I expected, and honestly, right now I’m not sure how I feel about all of this. But if you’re looking for the “good”? Well… when else do you get to eat boiled peanuts in bed? 😂

Day 1: The Bad and the Bureaucratic

Let’s just say last night was rough—easily the worst post-op pain I’ve ever had. Despite hydrocodone, muscle relaxers, nerve pain meds, and even sleep meds, I only managed maybe four hours of broken sleep. I was awake before each med alarm, doubled over in gut-wrenching pain.

This morning I called my doctor’s office hoping for a med adjustment. Instead, the on-call doctor told me they don’t handle pain meds on the weekend. I told him I was at a pain level of a 9 and my whole body was trembling. He actually proceeded to say if I needed an SCS, then I must already be used to living with pain at a “9” out of 10 anyway. (Yes, he really said that.)

Never mind that in all my years of back pain (since 2004), I’ve only taken narcotics four times—each one tied to major surgery or one time when I couldn’t walk. I’ve done everything I could to avoid long-term narcotic medications: RFAs, injections, PT, you name it. Yet here I am, being treated like I’m asking for something unreasonable or like I am an addict looking for my next fix. Meanwhile, they’re sipping their Saturday morning coffee while I’m trembling in pain.

Thankfully, the VA referred me to community care, and I ended up in the ER. Riding in the car was brutal, but they gave me injections (Dilaudid, Norflex, Zofran, and steroids—two meds combined so only three sticks). It knocked me out long enough to bring the pain down from a 9 enough to sleep for an hour and a half. Once awake my pain was back up to about a 6 but they said I was still going to have quite a bit of pain. They also upped my prescription and added another muscle relaxer to hopefully get me through the weekend.

When they checked my incision, I understood why it hurt so badly—this thing is massive, held together with 11 staples. To top it off the neurosurgeon had to cut out part of my vertebrae (Laminectomy) in order to insert the leads, so I guess that is what is causing the extreme pain I am feeling. Let’s just say this scar is going to tell its own story.

Day 2: Adjusting

Another restless night—still waking every 2.5–3 hours in pain, even with the increased dosage of meds from the ER and my trsleep meds. But I managed more rest than before, which felt like a little progress.

Living in an RV makes recovery even more challenging. Today we are going to head to my best friend’s house, hoping her recliner will give me a little relief than my setup at home just can’t right now.

It’s still early days, and the device isn’t even turned on yet. I don’t know what the outcome will be, but this is the real, unfiltered journey—the good, the bad, and the very ugly.

-S