The Dance of Recovery

Day 30

October 1, 2024

One month. Recovery was a dichotomy. Between an eternity and a moment in time. Painstaking and drawn out, yet a quick flash in time. Things changed a lot and also nothing changed at all. It would be a snippet of my life, but these days were slowed down. It felt like a video taken in slomo a few seconds too early. The jump into the pool was a split second, but in slomo the person’s feet took a lifetime to move an inch off the ground. Recovery was a dance. One step forward, three steps back, two steps forward, one back.

Pill bottles were strewn across the nightstand that once held lip gloss and earrings. When it was over it would be just a memory, but sometimes it was hard to remember a time before the injury.

And that’s what it was, in injury to the spine. I didn’t have degenerative disc disease nor did I suffer from a spinal deformity or significant back issues. No, up until this point, I would not have classified myself as a person with a “bad back.” In my life I had thrown my back out less than 3 times. When this happened I went to the chiropractor for a few adjustments. It was resolved within a couple of days. Simple.

On August 31, 2024, I made an appointment with the chiropractor. I assumed that I had lifted something the wrong way or tweaked it just so. It was the Friday before a long weekend so I decided it was better to be safe than sorry. It was a last minute appointment with each of my kids in tow. I had always seen the same chiropractor and had declined a change to a new provider in the past. After all, why change what works.

This day however, a different chiropractor came out to the waiting room and told us to follow him. I was distracted by my son and toddler and was glad he had chosen the room with toys for them to play with while my back was adjusted.

He told me to lie face down on the table and I was used to the drill. He cranked the drop table up and I remember that the amount it fell gave me instant pause. This was way more significant than the gentle adjustments I had become accustomed to. After I turned onto my side he stated, “You are really tight. You are really difficult to adjust.” I thought this was strange since I had never been told this before. He was significantly taller and heavier than my regular chiropractor, and definitely gave it all he had to adjust my back. At the end of the appointment he used a tool, I’m not sure what it was because I didn’t see it, but it pulsed along my back to “loosen it up” and hopefully give me some relief. Later on I wondered how he had even known what he should do, as this was my first time in a while and he hadn’t asked me any questions at the beginning of the appointment. I recalled being asked, “So, what’s going on?” at the start of each initial visit in the past.

My back became significantly more bothersome throughout the following day and I remember being bummed that I would have to wait until Tuesday for my next appointment. We went to ride the ski lift at the mountain and I remember telling Jay that I could not carry Kennedy because of the pressure in my back. This continued into Sunday and I was surprised that what seemed like such a minor issue was getting more bothersome.

Monday morning, I got out of bed and instantly stumbled to the floor. Great, I thought. I threw it out. What a nightmare. I would have to wait until tomorrow to be adjusted and might even have to miss the first day of teacher meetings. The first day is not exactly the time you want to burn a sick day.

Over the course of the day, it became worse and worse until I resorted crawling around my home. I figured everyone must think I was being dramatic, but I legitimately was too uncomfortable to stand. I took a pain med left over from sinus surgery, I never take them and realized they were two years old, but it was worth a shot. I gulped down a sip of water and laid on my side. I could not lie on my back. I don’t think I actually fell asleep, but I rested. After a little over an hour I went to get out of bed, relieved that I would be in less pain this time.

I swung my foot onto the floor and I instantly crumpled onto the floor. I quickly moved into the fetal position and caught my breath. Wow. I really did it this time. Even a painkiller didn’t dull the pain. I remembered back to the time I threw out my back in Ohio. I lifted a case of iPod touches while simultaneously twisting to the right and boom, I was an instant hunchback. I remember the humiliation of getting onto the plane like this and instantly shuddered at the thought of starting the year this way.

I crawled to the stairs and went down backwards. Saw my toddler smiling and giggling at me thinking I was playing a game. She looked up with the biggest toothy grin and said, “Stawberries!” I crawled over to the fridge and attempted to get onto my feet to reach inside. I managed to raise myself up just long enough and collapsed to the floor again. I crawled to the knife drawer, grabbed a towel, and a bowl off of the counter and proceeded to cut up her fruit on the kitchen floor. Yeah, I probably wouldn’t be making it to work. Being a hunchback was one thing, crawling on my hands and knees into professional development was another.

I got the kids to bed and went to stand up to shut the door. Searing pain shot down my leg and I realized I couldn’t feel it. Sciatica. My mom got it often. Maybe I didn’t pull something after all. I hobbled to my bed and thanks to Google my fears were assuaged, at least for now. I wouldn’t need to head to the ER unless I lost feeling in my groin or in both legs.

3:00 am. I tried to stand and fell to the floor. I quickly realized that I couldn’t feel my groin. I consulted Google again to see if I could wait for a more reasonable hour to wake up my parents to stay with the kids. “Cauda Equina Syndrome is a serious condition that requires immediate surgery. After surgery, patients may need to work with specialists to recover and manage symptoms. Treating patients within 48 hours after the onset of the syndrome provides a significant advantage in improving sensory and motor deficits as well as urinary and rectal function.” Nope. I called my mom and she said she would be right over.

I crawled outside and across the driveway.

“Steph, when you said you couldn’t walk, I thought you meant you couldn’t walk well or easily, not that you actually couldn’t walk!”

“Yeah, I definitely can’t walk.” I crawled into the car and began the trek to UMass. One five minute visit to the chiropractor would change my life forever.

After I was in a more stable condition post surgery I did some research.

Research

Potential Causes of CES

• Spinal lesions and tumors
• Spinal infections or inflammation
• Lumbar spinal stenosis
• Violent injuries to the lower back (gunshots, falls, auto accidents)
• Birth abnormalities
• Spinal arteriovenous malformations (AVMs)
• Spinal hemorrhages (subarachnoid, subdural, epidural)
• Postoperative lumbar spine surgery complications
• Spinal anesthesia

So it could be caused by trauma to the spine and the disc herniation that results in Cauda Equina is often much larger than normal. This was consistent with what my surgeons reported. Typically they remove 3 cm of disc. In my case it was 7 cm or 70 mm. 7 times the minimum qualification to be considered a large herniation.

After some initial research, there was no doubt that my spinal injury was caused by the chiropractor. Further investigation proved that although herniations may be more frequency, one study estimates that Cauda Equina only occurs 1 in every 3.7 million spinal manipulations. Stroke after neck manipulation is way more common and are the adjustment that neurosurgeons warn about.

Progress

Day to day progress feels pretty nonexistent. I know that I am improving because I recall asking the physical therapist if I would ever walk again. I progressed from there to using a walker, then to taking steps to the walker, then using the walls to balance, and now able to walk without the wall. It isn’t pretty, fast, or for extended periods, but it is improvement.

The numbness has remained pretty consistent. I have pockets of feeling where I didn’t before, but I am still very numb. My right foot feels as though it has a steel rod extending from the top of my foot, past the heel, and up my shin. Since the bottom of my right foot is numb, my legs feel uneven and it feels as though I am walking on a rock and am constantly off balance.

My right foot is still much weaker and offers very minimal pressure while pushing down. Not much has improved.

My lower spine is more painful than it has been, which I attribute to potentially regaining some feeling where I didn’t have it before. My knees have gotten extremely painful and this could be due to radiating pain, nerve issues, or differences in my gait.

The nerve pain has been keeping me up at night. The best way to describe it is having a tourniquet tied around your upper thigh and feeling the constant throbbing and pins and needles of having your circulation cut off without the ability to fix it. I was prescribed medication to combat this which comes with its own set of less than desirable side effects.

If I sit too long, stand too long, or walk too long, I have to immediately lay down and often have pain for a few hours.

It is going to be a marathon, not a sprint. If anything, this journey is teaching me patience.

Keeping Busy

At least for a few minutes each day I try to spend some intentional time with the kids. It could be a craft, a game, or even playing toys. Sometimes it is watching a good movie in bed. The healing process is long, but there are a lot of bright spots in what could be a very dark journey. ☀️