Pain in the Neck
I’ve never had a fear of the inevitable. Death falls under “things we can’t control” so I don’t spend time worrying about it, though in getting older I do understand we make choices that impact how soon it might occur. Never been a health nut, so I don’t go around annoying anyone by preaching lifestyle choices; would I rather eat McDonalds and candy when I feel like it than live a few extra years at the end. I don’t smoke or drink (rare Grey Goose Dirty Martini/fine bourbon excepted); we all have our vices and mine could be worse—I’m a harmless hippie stoner.
The orthopedic and neurosurgeons have told me for a few years I need a spinal fusion procedure on my neck to fuse vertebrae, apparently my neck in an MRI looks “like Swiss cheese.” I have migraines, neck and back pain that are almost constant from years of writing, candlemaking, beachcombing and the earliest perpetrator: big tits that caused shitty posture. Toss in a side of not-fabulous genes, and you end up running out of pain injection delay tactics, and surgeons wanting to give you a bionic neck.
As a queer mega-bitch Gemini from Philadelphia, I’m no baby about pain. I’ve given birth four times the old-fashioned way, one without the benefit of an epidural (no time) and one in full back labor. Surviving the last 30 years of debilitating migraines while raising those four now-adults hasn’t been a walk in the park. So it’s not the pain of the surgery I’m afraid of; mainly it’s that I can’t stand the idea of being immobile for the recovery time. I also fear something going wrong during the surgery (at the redneck hospital where I live) that could potentially, in my estimation, end with my complete paralysis due to its proximity to the spinal cord. How would I end my own life if I couldn’t move? That’s a reasonable predicament for endless worry, and has caused me to avoid doing anything about the surgery. I’m cut off from pain injections and muscle relaxers while the surgeons wait out my return to schedule the surgery.
At 56, I feel like I’m too young to have part of my spine replaced with metal, even if it’s inevitable at some point. So I came up with a four-point plan to delay the surgery. I’m going to massage once a month to help with the jacked-up muscles surrounding the affected areas. I’m returning to my neurologist to get Botox—a treatment that has nothing to do with forehead wrinkles but is several dozen injections in a crown formation around my head and neck that significantly reduce the number of migraines I get. I’m going to the chiropractor four times a week to create alignment and balance in my neck and spine to support the damaged areas. And I’m making an effort to exercise more (I’m swimming, and hope to return to kayaking) to strengthen the muscles.
I don’t know how long this plan will help me delay what I consider an invasive, potentially risky surgery. I’ve spoken to several people who’ve had spinal fusion surgeries with no problems whatsoever and significantly increased quality of life. I know I need the surgery. I just don’t want to lie in bed recovering from it for two months and set off the TSA alarm at the airport because my neck is made of metal any sooner than necessary. I also need to get a second surgical opinion at a larger metropolitan hospital. No offense to the local rural hospital (where I refused to even give birth to any of my kids), but I should check all the boxes before I fuck around with my only spinal cord. Having worked for orthopedic surgeons many years ago, the operation doesn’t seem as easy as a knee replacement logistically. What it seems like is a real pain in the neck, and although all the measures I mentioned are time-consuming and I have to sit around icing my neck and back a lot, I’ll put off that final nasty incision until I’m out of alternatives.