3/10-3/13/25 It’s Really Happening
I slept in and almost missed breakfast. Thankfully this city seems to function on my delayed circadian rhythm, as well. When we get downstairs early the place is empty; right before 10, when breakfast is supposed to close, there are swarms of people. While eating, we heard from the hospital about meeting the doctor and rushed over to the appointment.
After only a few ping-pongs around the floors, we finally got to meet the man (the myth, the legend!) we came here to see. Dr. Mazda Turel was immediately curious, insightful, and compassionate. He asked a few pertinent questions, looked at the imaging files, and performed some basic muscle testing. His down to earth nature and realist outlook were beyond comforting. Christ was reassured that he would be able to return to his full athletic endeavors providing the first wave of true comfort I’ve seen in him in months.
With the pre-op appointments complete, we made our way back to the hotel to pack his bag and shower before checking into the hospital. When we returned to Wockhardt Hospital, Amay met us on the 18th floor to settle into the room. It had not been clear before that I was expected to stay at the hospital, but I quickly realized their suggestion was more like a request. It’s not that I didn’t want to be there to support and entertain Christ, I just didn’t even realize that was their expectation. I’m glad it was, and didn’t end up leaving throughout the entire rest of his inpatient stay.
Once Christ was settled, I met our new friend Pushpendra who joined me for the walk back and dinner at the hotel. Although I have felt completely safe walking through this city, I was happy to have a friend accompanying me along the busy night street. Our conversation was minimal due to the language barrier but I don’t mind sharing space and energy without talking much.
After eating and packing a bag, we walked back to the hospital and I found Christ anxiously entertaining himself in the room but continuing to remain positive. There was no chance he was going to sleep that night. In fact, he decided it would be better not to in hopes of being tired enough to sleep through some of the pain the next day. I have been up til 2/3am almost every night anyway, so I was happy to keep him company. I finally passed out for a few hours but I don’t think Christ got a moment of sleep.
The surgery morning started early and we got to watch the sun peek through the smog and cast a pink hue around the buildings outside our window. We had just enough time for Christ to experiment with his first time lapse before being brought down to the surgical floor. Dr. Mazda came to give me some information and I couldn’t resist asking to observe the surgery. With a single reassurance that I would be OK in the room, he agreed to put my request into motion and instructed me to return in an hour. Ask and you shall receive!
Dr. Mazda’s calm and friendly demeanor in the operating room was refreshing and inviting. “Do you have any rituals” he paused to ask before making the initial incision. I was so caught off guard by such a perceptive question and direct address, I didn’t know the question was being asked of me. I don’t have any specific superstitial rituals, but I did lay a sheet on the empty hospital room floor and made sure to take a moment for meditation and movement just before coming downstairs. I did not wish for the surgery to go well or for good outcomes; instead, I pictured Christ’s chiseled body making fluid progress up a beautiful sandstone rock climb. I felt the sandy ground beneath my feet and the rope in my hands as I watched him transform power into grace.
The incision was carefully enlarged, layer by layer until we could see the pulsing of the carotid artery and eventually the vertebral column. Dr. Mazda is not just a master of his craft, he is brilliantly insightful and was a true educator throughout the entire surgery. The process for removing the disk seemed tedious, and I was surprised by the texture and structure of it. As the doctor removed more matter, approaching the spinal cord, the injury became glaringly obvious. We could see the irritated and almost bruised side causing the pain as well as the distinct bony area adding to the problem. (I’ll attempt to keep too much gore out of this post. Maybe I’ll add a separate one with pictures and explanation for those interested in the process of a discectomy..!)
When the surgery finished, I changed and went back to the room to wait for Christ. They don’t allow anyone in the PACU, and I felt so bad he would have to wake up alone.
After 3 hours or so Christ finally made it back up to the room. The first few hours there were a blur. Attempting to comfort the uncomfortable is itself painful and draining. I’m thankful to have had so much experience as the patient to truly be able to empathize and anticipate his needs. Having witnessed my mother’s patience and doting in the immediacy after each of my surgeries gave me a foundation for how to show up for him.
Anticipation and calm are key. My understanding of anatomy and what was going on within Christ’s body was likely beneficial, as well. The hours mostly consisted of rearranging pillows, changing bed height, and capfuls of water to give brief moments of reprieve before the overwhelming pain returned. Most of the difficulty as caregiver comes purely from witnessing someone else in that much pain and having little control to do anything about it. Christ remained calm and kind throughout the day and quickly learned the few positions that were tolerable.
Just as Christ was starting to lose his mind a bit, Dr. Mazda came in to check on him. He gave the approval to remove the neck brace and helped him get out of bed, eventually giving him the OK to get up and walk around as tolerated by pain. The knowledge that his neck was safe and he would not be so restricted moving forward lifted the spirits in the entire room. As the doctor left, Christ finally rested his head fully back into the makeshift pillow (the given ones were pretty terrible so he stuffed the pillow case with his extra clothes!) and gave a sigh of relief.
We did not sleep much again the next night, despite Christ’ master plan from the night before. He was in too much pain, and I spent many hours speaking with a friend back home going through a hard time. We did however take the stairs to the café for a coffee at 6am only to learn it opened at 8.
The two nights with no sleep and outrageously high level of activity for the morning after spinal surgery was just too much for his body. The pain became overwhelming and took all the life out of him. I sat with him as we tried breathing exercises hoping the pain meds would kick in. After trying a second medication, he finally had some relief and you could see and feel the life slowly creeping back into his human self.
I left the room for just a minute and returned to Christ doing his very best to turn down a sponge bath from a well-meaning, eager attendant. The contrast of lateral flexion (yes) and cervical rotation (no) from the two of them clearly having a communication mishap was quite amusing.
The rest of the hours slowly ticked away. We became fast experts at passing time without doing much. The revolving door of nurses, housekeeping, food, doctors, and hospital administrators kept time moving along. We took quite a few trips up and down the stairs to the cafe, including one trip Christ snuck down for alone while I took a power nap. Despite this, when it was time for his follow up X-rays they forced him to sit in the wheelchair and be pushed into the elevator and down to the 13th floor. I’ll never stop finding humor in the well-intentioned protocols that make absolutely no sense.
This day felt like 5 days and by 6pm Christ was ready to bust out of jail… I mean the hospital. Everyone including Dr. Mazda was shocked he was ready to go, but he trusted Christ’s intuition about his own body and gave the green light to be discharged. More communication mishaps did not allow it to happen, and, forgetting he was dressed back in his own clothes anticipating discharge, Christ attempted another trip down to the Cafe. The escape artist was caught (patients must wear the given shirt and pants scrub set) and gently encouraged back into his hospital uniform. Maybe this is more like a prison.
We spent another night and long morning waiting for the discharge process to finalize. One employee after another entered, asked how everything regarding their department went, and retreated back to the hallway. The face-to-face was a nice touch to feel seen and heard, but I’m not sure it’s the most effective approach to receive real feedback. Christ has already completed many online reviews as requested, and I will be sure to do the same…eventually!
Getting back to the hotel felt like a blissful homecoming. The employees were gracious and gave us big smiles as we entered. Immediately, we sent laundry out and ate a delicious meal in the restaurant before taking a joyously long shower and nap.
I know Christ is still in pain, especially as he lays in bed trying to sleep, but nothing compares to what he was going through before. Brighter light radiates out of him and his vibration level is even further elevated now that the chain links of nerve pain have evaporated. His gentle snores tell me he’s finally sleeping, and I suppose I will try to do the same.
