GUEST BBW BLOGGER: BOLTED BIONIC SISTER

As part of a little experiment on BBW, I had a guest blogger, Linda, write about her spinal fusion surgery and recovery (thank you so much, Linda!!!). Continuing this experiment, the post below was written by another guest blogger, my younger sister, who I will refer to as Bolted Bionic Sister (a.k.a. Mama Mia Maria!).

Unlike Linda and me, Bolted Bionic Sister has a totally different perspective on spinal fusion surgery and recovery: she was a family member watching the chaos of surgery and recovery from the outside. I asked her to write about her perspective in the hopes that it will help family members understand what to expect during their loved one's surgery and recovery. I have to admit, however, that I have been procrastinating posting her piece; it is difficult for me to read what my family went through to help me. I hope it helps you.

BOLTED BIONIC SISTER'S STORY

Even before my sister's spinal fusion surgery, she was working on the Bolted Bionic Woman blog. I mentioned in passing that people might find it helpful to read about the surgery from a family member's point of view: I thought family members should know what they may experience so they could prepare themselves for it, as our family was not prepared at all for what we saw. So here is my account of my older sister's spinal fusion surgery and recovery.

I thought I had already seen my sister, Bolted Bionic Woman, at her worst, wincing in pain as she tried to walk and participate in the smallest and simplest activities of daily living. I remember her telling me how her leg would often go numb while walking at work so that she was limping and could no longer feel her feet, and what a bizarre feeling it was. I thought it could not get any worse than watching her hobble around with one of her hips at least 4 inches higher then the other one, not being able to straighten herself out and walk fully upright because of all the pain. As bad as all of that was, nothing could have prepared me for seeing her in the recovery room after her spinal fusion surgery.

I was accompanied into the recovery area with my mom. As I walked through the double doors I must have audibly gasped and froze on the spot. I vaguely remember hearing my mom say that she was pretty swollen. Pretty swollen was an understatement, as her face was perfectly round with little slits for eyes, but it was only the beginning of what I was about to see. She must have been hooked up to every machine and tube possible. I can understand the need for an IV and oxygen, but the catheters in her neck took me by surprise - I was aghast at the way they looked.

I grew up in a medically-oriented family (Dad is a physician and Mom is a nurse), and my career as a social worker took me on a path where I saw the very sickest of sick children, but when it's your family, your flesh and blood, your sister, it is a completely different experience. The image of her in the recovery room is ingrained in my mind so vividly that I don’t think I will ever forget it. As I approached her bedside, she said she was doing well, asked where her niece and nephew were, and we had a few fun minutes talking about the hottie of an anesthesiologist she had, and how having him that close during surgery was well worth going through it. Unfortunately, those few minutes in the recovery room would be the best I would see my sister look in the weeks to come.

The hospital stay was an absolute nightmare. The first night, a few hours after surgery, they moved her upstairs to a private room. I got a call early the next day from my mother saying she had been crying in pain most of the night and had not been able to get any relief. When I came to the hospital I was still surprised she was so swollen. I expected to have somewhat of the same light-hearted conversation as we did in the recovery room, but she could only mumble a few words, and when she wasn't crying, she would lay quietly. Her pain was completely uncontrolled, and to find a nurse on her floor to get any kind of attention was close to impossible. At times my sister would turn and hold onto the bed rail with white knuckles and cry. The nurse call light was useless - it either could not be found or would not been answered.

I spent three evenings at the hospital to make sure that my sister got her last dose of pain medication for the night before I went home; if I knew I could stay overnight I definitely would have. One night in particular is seared into my mind about the lack of pain control and the totally inattentive nursing staff. It was past her time for more pain medicine so I tracked down a nurse who gave the standard reply of "I will be right in." After a half hour, I tracked her down again, and got the same line, "I will be right in." When she finally did arrive, my sister had tears running down her cheeks. The nurse said, "her eyes are closed and it looks like she is sleeping." I told the nurse that she is in severe pain, and she has tears coming out of her eyes. When the nurse woke up my sister and asked her if she was in any pain, she said she was and the nurse finally gave her some medication. Everyday was a constant battle with the nursing staff to attempt to manage her pain. And I say attempt, because they never did get it managed.

On day three at the hospital I was so impressed with my sister. Even with the lack of pain control and the disastrous nursing care, she did a great job working with the physical and occupational therapists. During the first session, it took all her effort to sit up in a chair and have help putting on her back brace. The next day she had help with her back brace and was able to stand and walk a few steps down the hall. I knew watching her walk down the hall that once we could get her out of the hospital and at home, she would do so much better.

After her week long stay at the hospital she was finally discharged, a process that was also a nightmare. The entire staff kept blaming another department for why she could not be discharged yet. First it was because of the physical therapist neglecting to do something, then the blame shifted to the nurses, then to the discharge planner and then to the doctors. After a long day of solving problems we should not have had to solve, my sister finally got to go home to the comfort of her own bed, the familiarity of her own things, and the loyal companionship of her dogs.

For the first week-and-a-half at home, she needed help to shower, dress, prepare food (for what little appetite she had), and to take care of three back incisions, a long vertical stomach incision, and three neck and back wounds from drainage tubes. She had my help as well as the assistance of our mother and one very worried five-year-old nephew. He would carefully examine his aunt's incisions daily, and rub Vitamin E oil on them while giving his assessment of how they were healing that day. (He still does this, almost 10 months later. He will ask to look at her "marks," rub them a bit, and tell her they look much better). Her three-year-old niece was a constant source of entertainment and soon became her aunt's little walking buddy when it was time for my sister to start moving more. Her niece would hold onto her aunt's walker as they first mastered walking to the driveway, and little by little, walked to the neighbor's house, then the mailbox, and finally around the block.

Through all this, I am so happy to say that my sister has done very well. She has been faithful about attending doctors appointments, going to physical therapy and Pilates classes, which she still continues to do. I am proud of all she has accomplished in this period of time. She thoroughly researched all of her treatment options, endured numerous painful procedures, and had a great attitude through the worst of this surgery and its subsequent recovery. I am so glad she is out of the pain she was in, and she now seems to have a new lease of life.

However, I do owe her an apology. As I mentioned before, we had discussed doing a family point of view post for this blog a while back, and I offered right away to write about the experience. I procrastinated and procrastinated, and now 10 months later I have finally done it. It is not that my sister's surgery was in any way unimportant in her life or mine, nor was it something to be brushed aside; but I knew that writing about my experience with her surgery and recovery would bring up emotions that are still very raw and vivid. I finally told myself that after all she went through, not only physically but emotionally and mentally, I owed it to her to sort through my feelings and emotions and write this account, as she has endured more than I will ever know to get to where she is now.

I wish I could conclude this post with some articulate words to describe my thoughts about my sister through this ordeal, but PROUD TO BE HER SISTER sums it all up.

Bolted Bionic Sister is a licensed clinical social worker (L.C.S.W.) who works with parents and children on behavioral and emotional issues. As a Supermom to two awesome children, she epitomizes patience and grace, and is one of my favorite people in the world.