As time gets closer, the worries increase. That's Steve's reaction to his scheduled and long awaited surgery coming up. It's close to a year now since we knew he needed it, when the pain interrupter in his back began to fail, first by not sending enough current to the electrode tips to disrupt the spinal signals, and them by sending shocks instead. Not only was each shock painful in itself, but the resulting jerks which each caused created even more pain in his back. We had to totally stop charging it, which still gave it about two days to lose all power.
There was a combination of efforts to assist him. First was a pain specialist who worked with him to prescribe opiates to ease the pain, which did a pretty fair job until she moved her office far enough away that the ride in the car to visits became their own torture. Arrangements to switch pain control to his primary care doc resulted in a lesser medication being prescribed for him, one which both of us have experience with and find about as useful for pain as a sugar cube. So after discussing it, we both decided to add ibuprofin back into his regimen. He's not actually supposed to be taking it, but we make sure it is combined with a meal to minimize digestive issues.
Concurrent with that were visits with back specialists who understand the various problems his back has, the failed implanted equipment, and the need to remove and replace it with a different version (brand) without quite the same history. Nearly a year later, the roadblocks to getting surgery for a "non-life-threatening" condition are finally surmounted. Those roadblocks included having both surgeons getting their schedules together, plan their strategy of one removing the old while the other placing the new, in as close to a simultaneous procedure for each electrode as possible, and finally, waiting ... and waiting ... and waiting for the shortage of sterile IV fluid to get him through the surgery to abate, after hurricane destruction of the factories. The diminished supply had to be held for truly life-threatening emergencies. Quality of life, or lack thereof, was not top of the list. As a result his inactivity resulted in its own set of health issues, one of the results being he now uses a walker to get around without fear of falling from lack of strength or balance.
One other thing that gave some relief, but only when used, meaning almost constant use, was his heating / vibrating "vest", which lets his back muscles relax somewhat. It doesn't actually cure the pain but keeps him from reacting to make it worse by tensing them. It needs standard household current to work, not a plug from the car battery, so basically he's become housebound. He orders groceries online and I drive to pick them up. I now do the same for my own, so it works out well enough... except for wear and tear on my shoulder, but that's another story, and I'm making my own adaptions.
Steve had to travel down to Minneapolis a few times, quite a trip in the car even if I manage to avoid every pothole and manhole-cover divot on the way. Unfortunately, I don't quite manage that. The surgery will be at the U of M hospitals, and the pre-surgical exams are held there. At least we know the route quite well now, which will be a good thing at 5AM, or what I refer to as O-Dark-Thirty. Yes, I know that's the wrong phrase for the time, but reflects what it will feel like when we have to wake to start the involved home pre-op process before we go. Plus it's a catchy phrase, even if I never saw the movie.
As long as it has taken, a bad as the pain has been, as frustrating as the many setbacks have been, Friday looms with oversized importance. It HAS TO work!!! Nothing can go wrong, the pain finally has to leave, and life has to change for the better. So of course Steve worries about it.
Wouldn't you? Flip a coin, heads it works and he can start to resume a normal life, tails and the worst imaginable happens. There no longer seems a middle ground option. It no longer is maybe it won't be that effective, it's now thinking something will go wrong and he'll be paralyzed... or worse.
One practical thing we both agree on, because we've done it before but the documents are in Arizona, is both of us redoing our living wills. Before Friday! Since we first did them, things have changed, including geography, closeness to family, marital status... and the ravages of getting older and the realities of living with them. What has also changed is the increasing strength of our love and the depth of our appreciation for the other, even in the simple things like me doing something for him that will save him moving his back, or his assisting me to get my arms into sleeves or pulling things down off high shelves because my shoulders won't cooperate. Such little things, yet so important: we work as a team, because we are a team.
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