360 Fusion AKA Fried Egg Surgery

I had back surgery. And, technically, front surgery too. Ultimately it was for my spine. Part of it was done with me lying on my back and part with me lying on my stomach. I asked about the logistics of that, how I would go from one side to the other. The doctor said they would turn me which, considering I was under anesthesia, must have been something like flopping over a huge fried egg! 

I had a collapsed disc, L5, for you sticklers for detail. The collapsed disc pressed on a nerve and caused foot drop which means I lost function in my foot, the left, as well as feeling. If you don’t correct that situation within a few days, the foot deal becomes permanent and you live the rest of your life walking like a “gangsta” and with a cane. Which, admittedly, sounds cool but a look I’m pretty sure I

Also, if I had a gangsta
limp, I'd dress like the pimp
from I'm Gonna Get You
Sucka!

couldn’t pull off nor wish to attempt. (For the record, if I had a cane, it would be a steam punk deal that would look like a regular cane but then when I hit a button, all kinds of gears would appear and dispense little doubloons of dark chocolate. Not that I’ve given it much thought…or drawn out the specs… and sent them to an engineer…)

Thankfully, I was able to have surgery in time, however I still do not have full function or feeling in my foot. If I walk slowly, like maybe I’m trying to creep up on somebody, you can’t tell. If I pick up the pace, which is still difficult still two weeks post-op, I look like I have a “hitch in my get-a-long.” It is improving daily, 
thank the Lord.

Fall risk, indeed! You have no idea!

It was a big surgery, a 360 Fusion it’s called, and a much bigger deal than I expected. I didn’t understand the scope of the thing, it was done in an emergency so there wasn’t much time for me to wrap my brain around it. But, I got a better idea when the anesthesiologist said I would be intubated and when placed on my stomach, he would breathe for me. I think my reaction was, “Ex-squeeze me?” I suppose I thought it would be a little stick here, a few stitches there. And, really that’s all it was it your idea of a little stick is three, four inch long incisions. (I wonder how much of that I have to blame on my surgeon’s large hands.) After that, a neurologist came in and put little stickers all over me. She said they were the sites where she was going to attach wires to monitor the signals from my spinal cord!!! (WHAT??? I seriously felt like I was a bad sci fi movie starring Keanu Reeves. Just kidding. No Keanu Reeves sci fi movie is bad. EVER.) 

First, they went in through my abdomen and pulled out the disc. I asked what they did with my guts, throw them into a bowl? My surgeon is a serious man who doesn’t find me amusing in the least He claimed it was not an issue. So, yeah, I’m assuming they just scooped out my entrails and threw them into a stainless steal bowl. You can totally do that. I’ve seen it on The Walking Dead.

After they pulled out the disc they turned me over (fried egg), they screwed in some stuff, one of which is a spacer with polycarbonate fibers that extend into the gap. Eventually, bone will grow into the space, through the fibers, thus making me a bona fide cyborg or something like that. It was explained to me at some point but I forget what they said so I looked up a live surgery on YouTube, which I strongly suggest against. Oh my word! That’s a scar that won’t heal! Anyway, when it’s all said and done, you end up with something that looks like this...

TA DA!

Now, speaking of fried eggs, if you are my age-ish, 80s pre-teen/teen, you may remember the anti-drug, fried egg commercial. “This is your brain, (they showed an egg) this is your brain on drugs (they cracked the egg into a frying pan and it fried). Any questions?”  

That commercial is perfect for my circumstance as not only did I have fried egg surgery but while under the influence of pain meds and anesthesia my brain was super fried. Still is actually. I won’t lie. Even though I haven’t taken pain meds in days, and the anesthesia is long since gone (is it?), there’s still a fog over me. I forget a lot of stuff. If you want me to remember something, write it down. Then write another note reminding me that the note you wrote is real and I didn’t dream it. And put a little top by it so I can spin it and make sure I’m not in one of those Inception situations.  

Before the surgery, I was in a lot of pain and the doctor gave me a script for some humdingers! I took the pills and drunk texted my friends, yes, plural. I texted multiple people, I remember it and it made so much sense in the sweet, sweet arms of hydrocodone. Mind you, I’ve never been high or drunk and am diminutive to boot. So, when I take something, I get my money’s worth as you will see.

“I feel squishy and like the world loves me.”

How I felt, in a nut shell

“The world feels like a kitten.”

“I just want to text everyone and tell them I love them…And I love you so much and you lob me.” (yes, lob)

“I feel everything I see. The walls are petting my eyes.”

“My eyes are furry.”

“I am so so so stoned.”

Also, once, while watching TV, the screen suddenly went black. I had the remote in my hand and started touching buttons and I could hear the TV change but couldn’t see it…because my eyes were closed.

In the hospital it was a bit worse. I don’t even remember some of this. It was told to me after the fact. What I do remember coming out of my mouth, I also remember thinking, “this is not what I want to say but I’m still saying it.”  

1. “I got a whoooooole other leg under there.” - do not remember. The cardiologist said I told him this as he examined one of my legs. I’m assuming “under there” refers to a blanket and during surgery they didn’t some how fold my legs up under me Transformer style.
2. “You got to show this to my husband because he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know any of it. Ok? You have to show him. Because he just won’t know.” - do not remember. Said this to the nurse as she bandaged my incisions. Apparently my poor husband was standing right there watching, learning how to bandage me, and I was clueless to his presence. Then suddenly, for whatever reason, I did see him and I screamed and jerked. I remember that part. It was like he was a ghost…which I also saw. Keep reading.
3. “Can you feed me more paint chips?” - remember. I laughed after I said it. I was asking my husband for more ice chips. I then turned to nurse, told her what I said and laughed and laughed some more.
4. “First night you stay in the hospital is free.” - do not remember. I do remember that I was sitting up in bed talking to my friend Max. She was asking about the hospital stay and how much insurance covered. Well, apparently, for me, first night was free!
5. “I need shag (carpet).” - remember. People, I called the nurses’ station at 3:00AM for this one. It blasted over their monitor. Here’s the rest of it…
6. “This thing is here and it’s here. It’s the thing.” - again, remember. I heard these words coming out of my mouth and could not stop them nor communicate in any fashion that my IV was beeping.

Also, there was a ghost cat in my room. It ran around my bed at night. I saw it. Since I’m being honest, I saw a ghost too. It walked to my bed then the ghost cat ran around the bed, scared by the regular ghost no doubt.

Leaving the hospital didn’t stop my craziness. On the drive home, every time my husband turned, braked, or moved I jumped and threw my legs and hands out, like one of those baby ducks that are hatched at the top of trees and have to jump down like 50 feet to the forest leaf bed below. Except I clung to the car door and gasped. About the tenth time, my husband asked if I could just please stay awake. I was going to cause him to wreck. I couldn’t stay awake. Just couldn’t, I told him then he shushed me. Apparently, on narcotics, I’m a bit of a loud talker.  

Two weeks later, although foggy minded still, I am doing well. As I said, I am slowly regaining use of my foot, have little incision pain and NO back pain. That’s a huge deal for me. I’m walking daily, without a walker (hurray!), and doing therapy. Over the next months, my L5 disc will fuse with the mechanism and attach to the disc below, S1. This apparently will restrict my movement a bit but so did the pain beforehand, so, what’s the diff?

I didn’t tell many people about this. Again, it was an emergency surgery so there wasn’t much time. Those I did prayed for me and my friends have helped me, checked on me, walked with me when I didn’t want to walk, called me and suffered my drug induced ramblings. Above all, my husband has taken care of me and all but

Not the baby carrier I was
referring to but this is
AWESOME!

carried me in a Bjorn thing on his chest. He’s good people. They say love is not having to say you’re sorry. Nope. Love is helping your wife shower while she’s crying in a drug induced stupor, “this isn’t sexy, I’m so sorry.” I appreciate him so much and all of you even though you hadn’t a clue about any of it. Situations like this do that somehow, make you appreciate things. They say you don’t know what you got till it’s gone, but I think it’s more that once something is gone, you finally see how much you have left. 

I’m very blessed. 

Now pardon me while I go feed the ghost cat.