I am not a believer in miracles, religious or otherwise. I don't believe that a higher power is paying particular attention to my life. I think we each have the responsibility to live a good, honest, kind, thoughtful life and, if we mange to do that, then we're following the design of life, however it first came into being.
Anyone reading this likely knows the history of my neck injury; I've blogged about it here. It has now been 12 years since my 3rd cervical spine surgery, 43 years since the initial injury. Neither figure is a number I ever expected to live to see. I was bluntly told over the years, especially at the beginning, that I wouldn't survive more than a handful of years, that even surgery was not going to solve the ultimate problem, that I'd require even more surgeries.
Last year I was turned away by 3 neurosurgeons who would not tell me why I was being turned away. So I went back to the doctor I'd followed from USC to Cedars-Sinai to Glendale Presbyterian to private practice in Pasadena. He finally told me that surgery was far to dangerous now and that my neck was fairly stable. He told me to come back in 6 months.
That 6 months ended yesterday.
I had a new MRI to take with me yesterday. As I sat waiting, though not very long, I couldn't help but see the words in the MRI report (yes, I understand MRI reports after all this time!) that cited a "severe stenosis at C-6/T-1". That was the only place that the word "severe" appeared in the entire report. So it was on my mind. Also, I have a bit of a... hump, I guess, at the base of my skull and it has become larger and much more a source of discomfort. So, such was my worrying since I'd read the report on Monday.
When the doctor came into the room yesterday, he sat down opposite me and said that my MRI actually shows an improvement. It shows no progress of the mess that is my C-spine. None. I have never, ever had a doctor look at a new test result and tell me nothing has progressed. What he said made no sense to either of us. We sort of just stared at each other for a moment, then he smiled and told me that when he saw my name on his patient list, a familiar sense of dread overtook him. I am his "nightmare patient", that's how awful my neck is.
I asked him about that word "severe" in the MRI report and he told me he's not concerned about that. It will cause numbness in my right little finger (too late, it's already done that!) but is no concern at the moment. The hump on the top of my T/C spine is my neck deforming but it's not any worry as far as paralysis is concerned.
He got up and left the room to look at the MRI again because I asked if he was sure he was looking at the correct film. He laughed and said there was no mistake; this was my MRI.
Then he said the word that no one, anywhere, ever has said to me about anything. He looked at me and, with joyful shock, told me it was a miracle. He was serious.
I'm not sure how to express exactly what this means. I have been concerned about become paralyzed most of my life. I don't go round with a cloud over my head labeled "paralysis" but it's very much at the front of my brain. For 43 years. Last year, my doctor told me, he was sure that I'd call him for a surgical referral (he no longer does complex surgeries, damnit) and that he'd never see me again. Which explains his reaction when he saw my name on his patient list for yesterday; he was sure he'd be walking into a disaster.
Instead, this... miracle happened. Then he said more words I'd never, ever heard before: "Come see me in a year with another MRI from the same place." ''Come see me in a year." I've always gone in for progress checks every 4-6 months. But he released me for an entire year. THAT'S how well I'm doing... which was an impossible circumstance according to all my history with my neck, according to every doctor I've seen for my injury (and there have been a lot of them). I've been turned away by doctors because the situation is simply too complicated and dangerous for them to even consider treating me.
The conclusion yesterday was that I should keep doing whatever I'm doing because it's working miracles.
I can only credit my water therapy/exercise that I do 2-3 times a week for about 1 1/2 hours (though I've been out of the pool for 2 months because I had the Plague!). I'm eating better, too. And my attitude has improved markedly in the past 5 years. I honestly think that a huge part of the improvement is positive thoughts, positive actions, positive emotional work (which I'm doing and it's really, really hard...), positive living.
Even though 2016 seemed to be nothing but stress and loss, I've somehow gone from a somewhat isolated, withdrawn person to someone who is no longer afraid of life and what it might have planned for my future. I try to take every morning I can get out of bed and stand up as a good day; anything else that happens can't negate that fact.
So... yeah. As I made the 2 1/2 hour drive home (as opposed to the 1 hour it took to get to Pasadena -- 46 miles) I kept laughing. Then I'd cry. Then I'd laugh and cry. I'm sure I was an odd sight to anyone looking. The first thing I wanted to do when I got home was call my dad. My health has been as difficult on my parents as it has been on me. I can't even imagine what they've gone through because of my accident. My mom was always overly cautious about me but had a very "get it done, get it over with, move on" attitude. Dad I think has felt my struggles more personally; it's been hell for him to see me go through my very rocky journey. Usually, I ask him to go to the neurosurgeon with me but I didn't yesterday. So it was natural to want to talk to him first.
But he wasn't home, so my sister got the good news first. Then a friend who'd been on the phone with me the previous night talking me off the ledge that was that word "severe" in my MRI report. Then, finally, I told Dad. His reaction was utter lack of even understanding what I was telling him. I had to repeat myself. Then he kept asking "really?", "are you kidding?", "I can't believe this", etc. We were both incredulous but there's a sense of freedom and utter joy about this... and hearing those same emotions in Dad's voice made the day complete.
Now, as I go about my new job (I am now a production assistant at Fullscreen Studios -- I data process at home!) and prepare for my old job (another data-processing job 1 day a week), I feel strong and light, calm and utterly agitated. It's going to take some time to really understand that something this good, this positive has happened to a life that has been followed around by a very big sword on a very thin string.
The doctor warned me that I'm very precarious, that everything is a constant tightrope of "have I gone too far" and "have I gone far enough". The pain control and body work is on me; this is my responsibility, not something anyone can do for me... or ever could. So, even though there's a time bomb still in my neck, the clock has frozen for now and, at least for a while, I feel like I can do anything.
No comments:
Post a Comment