A Science Guy’s
Almanac #21. Year 2. April 4, 2016
A
ruptured Spinal Disk and Giant Snowflakes – Part 5
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| Giant snowflake from Disney's Journey Through Inner Space ride. Circa 1967. Read on, McDuff! |
Disclaimer: The events reported in this story occurred nearly 50 YEARS AGO. Some
liberties may have been taken in their sequencing. It all did happen,
but maybe not in this order.
Note: There are three links to more information or illustration of events. I encourage you to explore them, too.
Note: There are three links to more information or illustration of events. I encourage you to explore them, too.
Once in
my room, nothing of consequence happened until the next morning. During
“rounds,” my surgeon, Dr. Laughlin, came in. His first words were, “Well, I
guess it’s time for you to be up and around.”
I’d heard
stories about spinal surgery. Weeks in bed with a massive cast. Horror stories
of bathroom incidents. I knew I
didn’t have a cast on.
“Um, I
don’t think I should be getting up yet,” I said. “You just did surgery
yesterday. When do I get my cast?”
The
Doctor raised his eyebrows and flipped open my chart.
“You
won’t be getting a cast. I wanted to replace your ruptured disk, but your
vertebrae are misshapen. So, I elongated the incision, shaved some of your
pelvic bone, and fused your 5th lumbar vertebrae to your sacrum.”
An Aside: Later in life I saw a film [a film is a video precursor] of a different
doctor doing my surgery. He took a hammer and chisel and began to beat on the
pelvis and lumbar vertebrae, something like the reverse of this video footage. After cracking both bones, he took the slices of
pelvic bone placed them on the damaged bones and sewed the patient up.
 |
| One screw is in L5, the other in the Sacrum in this photo of how they do spinal fusion now. Imaging a picket fence made of bone fragments in place of the screws. That's what I have. |
I wasn’t in a lot of pain at that
moment. But, that was mostly the result of the heavy-duty pain meds. I realized
how strong they were only after seeing the film of the operation. Cracking
bones causes pain!
“What
about a brace?” I asked.
“You have
a brace from before, right?”
I nodded.
“Just use
that once you’re out of here. I’ll be back to tomorrow and we’ll get you out of
that bed.” With that, he was off.
Every
four hours I received a shot of Demerol to control the pain. More on that later—snowflakes
are involved. The biggest event of the evening revolved around urine. More
accurately, it revolved around the lack of urine release on my part.
I don’t
know about you, but I don’t tinkle very well while lying down. Actually, I
don’t tinkle at all. I hadn’t tinkled once since before my surgery the day
before. By mid-afternoon, my bladder was FULL. I was given a bedpan. It
remained dry. After another hour, even Demerol wasn’t masking the discomfort.
Long story short: They inserted a catheter and
drained my bladder.
Longer version: I knew exactly when the catheter
reached my bladder. The relief of urine exiting is difficult to describe.
Suffice it to say that I still remember it. Unfortunately, as is common in
hospitals, that procedure led to unexpected consequences. More on that in a
future blog series.
The
morning after the use of the catheter, Dr. Laughlin entered during his rounds.
He had the same opening line as the previous day.
“Well, I
guess it’s time for you to be up and around.”
Again, I
replied, “I don’t think I should be getting up yet. You just did surgery two
days ago.”
The
Doctor raised his eyebrows and flipped open my chart.
“Yep.
It’s time to be up and moving. Let me show you how to sit up.”
With
that, he looked at my roommate’s bed. My roommate was an elderly man suffering
from leg thrombosis. They were afraid a blood clot would break loose and become
an embolism. That could lead to brain damage or kill him, so they check his
vital signs every two hours. That’s okay in the day, but nights were hard to
sleep through.
Dr.
Laughlin unceremoniously shoved my roommate across his bed against the wall
with a thud. Then he lay down on the mattress and demonstrated as he narrated.
“Turn on
your side. Bend your knees. Use the arm under you to push yourself up while you
pivot on your hip. Be careful to keep your back straight.”
He jumped
off the bed and came to mine. He helped me through the process. Then he watched
me do it. Then he left.
I’m
sitting on the edge of my hospital bed. Legs dangling. I don’t know what to do.
The
diminutive nurse came in. Notice how I
avoided the potentially in appropriate term short once again?
“So, it’s
time to get you out of bed. I’ll bet you’d love to go to the loo by yourself.”
The term loo was my first verification of her
accent as English.
“Okay.”
She moved
until she was standing directly in front of me. Without hesitation, she grabbed
my hands and place on one each of her shoulders.
“Now
slide up to the edge of the bed.”
I did.
“Good.
Now use me as support and ease yourself off the edge until your feet are on the
ground.”
I
hesitated, but eventually complied.
“Now take
a step.”
I
carefully slid my right foot forward.
“Another.”
I
carefully slid my left foot forward. And stopped. Something was different than before my surgery!
“Does it
hurt?” she asked.
I had to
think for moment before I realized—I wasn’t noticing pain. It was the LACK of
pain that stopped me. My disk ruptured in early September of 1968. It was now
December 21st and the first day I’d had no pain when moving my legs.
“No,” I
said.
“Then why
aren’t you walking instead of sliding your feet along the ground. Just walk. If
you start to fall, that’s why I’m here.”
I looked
at her. Under five feet tall. No more than 6.25 stone (100 pounds). I’m 6’ tall
and 13+ stone (210 pounds).
“You
realize that if I fall on you, you’ll suffocate before they’ll be able to drag
you out from under me.”
She
laughed.
I was
lost. It showed. She continued.
“It’s an
English proverb from the time when ships were built of wood. To make them water
tight, the builders would coat the interior below deck with tar.
Unscrupulous
builders would use the least amount of tar possible to appear the hold was
tightly sealed. But, before long, the ship began to take on water. Many sank
and men died.”
“Oh,” was
my snappy retort.
“It means
to do what needs to be done when you need to do it. Just walk and all will be
fine.”
I did. It
was.
Weather forecast for the
remainder of this blog post: Snowflakes
coming!
When the
nurse came in with my 1:00 PM shot of Demerol, I asked if I had to have it.
“Are you
sure? Most people don’t want to skip any doses until the fourth day or so.”
“It
really doesn’t hurt that much,” I insisted. I was glad it hurt so much less
than before.
The nurse
looked skeptical, but she left. All was fine until about 4:15 PM. Then, my back
began to ache painfully. I pressed my “call nurse” button.
“How can
I help you?” the nurse responding to my call asked.
Aside: This is a different nurse from the one who did not give me the 1:00 PM
shot. There was a shift change at 3:30 PM.
“Let me
check,” she said. She returned with a syringe in hand. “It’s a little early for
your next shot, but you’re a big person, so it should be okay.” She
administered the Demerol.
For those
of you who don’t know, Demerol is a narcotic. It is highly addictive if abused.
It is stolen from hospitals because of its hallucinogenic properties. It’s also
very effective at relieving pain. And relaxing the body.
Within seconds, it felt like my body was merging with my mattress. All pain was either gone or forgotten. I lay there enjoying the feeling for a bit. Then I closed my eyes.
Within seconds, it felt like my body was merging with my mattress. All pain was either gone or forgotten. I lay there enjoying the feeling for a bit. Then I closed my eyes.
Aside: A new ride at Disneyland at that time was Journey Through Inner Space.
The essence of the ride is being miniaturized until you travel inside a
molecule of water frozen in a snowflake. There was a myriad of GIANT SNOWFLAKES
displayed in the waiting area viewed during the beginning of the ride.
You know
how when you close your eyes, sometimes there are flashes of color? Well, it
was almost Christmas, and the colors red and green were prominent all around
San Diego. I saw red and green when I closed my eyes…
GIANT RED AND GREEN SNOWFLAKES!
And, they were falling through
the ceiling!
I opened
my eyes. The snowflakes disappeared. I relaxed even more. I closed my eyes
again.
Once
again,
GIANT RED AND GREEN SNOWFLAKES
were falling through the ceiling!
My eyes
snapped open. The snowflakes disappeared. Now I could see myself lying on my
hospital bed.
My eyes
said, “Look! There you are laying in your hospital bed.”
My brain
countered with, “Don’t be stupid! You are lying in your hospital bed. You can’t see yourself!”
The
debate between eye and brain raged. I tired of the argument and closed my eyes.
GIANT RED AND GREEN SNOWFLAKES
were falling through the ceiling!
Opening
my eyes, this time, revealed me lying in my hospital bed. After repeating the
mental dialog described above, I decided to ring for the nurse.
I reached
for the call button. My arm moved maybe an inch. It was obvious that the
Demerol had relaxed me very well.
Over what
seemed like the next hour (but was probably a couple of minutes), I repeated
the closed eyes
GIANT RED AND GREEN SNOWFLAKES
falling through the ceiling and
open eyes watching myself lying in my hospital bed cycle over and over. Until,
finally, my hand reached the call button.
Now certain I was schizophrenic. Panic
struck! I pushed the button and held it down.
The nurse
who’d given me the shot of Demerol appeared at the door. I shouted a warning.
“WATCH OUT FOR THE GIANT SNOWFLAKES!”
The blood
drained from her face. She turned and, based on the sound of her footsteps, she
must have sprinted to the nurses’ station. Her return was quick.
Aside: I’ve not verified the facts in this Aside. These italicized
paragraphs are based on what I remember. If the facts aren’t true, I don’t want
to hear about it. What I remember makes for an explanation of the events that I
understood then and still makes sense.
I remember being told that the
body metabolizes Demerol quickly. As with many narcotics, it requires increasingly
larger doses over time to ensure the desired effect. For that reason, each of
my shots was customized to be slightly more potent than the previous dose.
Assume my first dose of Demerol
was given around 5:00 PM on Friday, December 20th in the Recovery
Room. Also, assume that I had a shot every four hours from that time until 1:00
PM on Sunday, when I’d declined the offering. That means, the shot I skipped
was shot #11. Since I’d missed a shot and nearly eight hours had passed since
my previous shot, I could have received the same dose as shot #10. That would
have been effective. Instead, the nurse gave me my shot #12. That was two
dosage strengths more than I should have received. Hence the hallucinations.
She sat
beside me and held my hand for close to two hours. She alternated between
agreeing that I was lying in my hospital bed, saying “I’m so sorry,” and
dodging imaginary
GIANT RED AND GREEN SNOWFLAKES.
I finally
went to sleep.
The next
day, she told me that she hadn’t even check my chart before she’d given me the
shot.
“That you
would have skipped a shot never entered my mind. Nobody’s ever declined a shot
after an operation like yours before.”
I left the hospital one week from when I entered. They kept me an extra day because I was running a low-grade fever. They finally decided it wasn’t bad enough to extend my stay.
That proved to be an unwise decision. But, that’s for another blog. It's details on the post-catheterization mentioned above.
Also, in a future blog, I'll chronicle my follow-up spinal surgery: Laminectomy & partial discectomy. It was done in 2005 to relieve pressure on my sciatic nerve.
Next Almanac post: Mitochondria and Weiner Whistles: Twins Separated at Birth?
Follow me on Twitter: @CRDowningAuthor
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