This post is not meant to discourage any one from opting from surgery.  I believe that surgery may be the only viable option, in some cases.  However, I also believe that, whichever course of treatment one chooses, one should be fully aware of what it entails and be pyschologically prepared to handle it. 

This post is meant to offer a perspective of what my operation involved.  Your own experience may be different.

How It All Began

It’s been a while since my last post.  More than a month, actually. The reason for my extended absence was a particularly herniated lumbar disc, L5-S1 to be precise.

Initially, things weren’t so bad.  It started with some pain in my calf which was diagnosed as “referred pain”.  The name was tame, but the pain was not.  It kept getting worse, until I could move no more.  Inspite of aggressive treatment and multiple episodes of bed-rest, my L5-S1 disc refused to heal.  After the pain recurred twice in three months, it was decided that the only recourse was that it be surgically removed.

According to the orthopedic surgeons I consulted, an operation performed to remove a herniated/ruptured/prolapsed disc was “relatively commonplace” in the world of orthopedic surgery.  The technical term for the procedure was a micro-discectomy combined with a laminectomy.  It was a major surgery, but nothing to worry about.  If all went well, the operation would last a “couple of hours, and in a few days, I would be on my feet again!”

So I came home, armed with the inputs of doctors reputed in their field of expertise, and started researching the subject for myself.  I learned of websites like Back.com and Spine-Surgery.com.  I learned of a machine in Staten Island, New York (DRX9000) which simulated a zero-gravity experience to perform spinal decompression without surgery.  I found that there were a number of alternatives to surgery, and that, in most cases, a ruptured disc heals if you give it a chance to.  But there were no way to know for sure, what was recommended in my particular case, except consult a good orthopedic with an MRI scan.

I also discovered, to my horror, that there was practically no information on the World Wide Web on patients’ post-operative experience.  There were, however, many many stories of how some patients had benefitted tremendously by opting for surgery, and others had saved themselves considerable expense and risk by avoiding surgery and choosing more conservative options.  Again, this was of little help to me, and only added to the confusion.

The more people I consulted – both, doctors and wellwishers – the more confusing it became to decide.  Finally, I had to take a call.  So, I consulted one last doctor – someone who had a reputation of not recommending surgery unless absolutely necessary.  One look at my MRI and he concluded that the extent of rupture in my case was more than 80% and not treatable, except with surgery.  The decision was made.

To The Hospital

The visit to the hospital was a strange experience – almost surreal.  I was walking about (with some pain). but otherwise, relatively healthy.  There was no emergency at hand.  I could choose a time convenient to me, hop into my car and get driven to the hospital, enjoying the scenery on the way (as opposed to lying on a stretcher, in an ambulance, unconscious).  We “checked-in” to a private room by evening and waited for the action to begin.  My biggest complaint at this time : The TV in the room had no cable channels and only aired the free-to-air national programs!

I will spare readers the painful details, but highlight most of the key elements of my experience.  It began with a catheter – a life-saving device that is meant to help you pee without needing to get out of bed.  This would help me tomorrow, when the surgery was over.  Suffice it to say, that its insertion, and the hours that followed (till the next morning), were the most uncomfortable and among the most painful, I have ever encountered.  Now, for the first time, I was beginning to get apprehensive about the operation.

Next morning, 7 a.m., it was time to be wheeled into the Operation Theatre.  My wife and mother were terrified, and my mother-in-law was nervous as hell.  But, I was about to discover that the operation itself would be the least of my problems.

I was taken on a gurney to the first floor where the OT was located.  There, a kind anaesthesiologist spoke to me and explained that she would be injecting me with a drug that would let me fall asleep and, when I wake up, it would all be over.  And that’s how it was.

I have NO idea what happened after that.  The injection is all I remember.  When I woke up, four hours had transpired (instead of the promised two), and I was being wheeled out of an “Observation Room” where I was lying for 45 minutes or so, post surgery.  I was all bandaged-up on my lower back, and could not move at all.  But, it was good to be alive and back in the conscious world!

Continued in Part 2…