There was a time after my car accident where I believed I could make a full recovery. Even as I felt my limbs and muscles get weaker, as the pain increased day in and day out, as the migraines happened every single day, as I felt like I was slowly drowning, I still believed that I had the power to make a full recovery. I was determined, nothing was going to stop me. I had shoulder surgery to repair a torn posterior labrum, a torn superior labrum, a dislocation, and stretching, and my orthopedic believed that after that surgery my neck would get better as well. He believed that the tension and pain in my neck was being caused by my shoulder. It made sense, I mean everything’s connected, right? So, I went with it. I had the surgery, and followed through with PT for nearly two years.
But all the while, as my shoulder was healing, my neck was steadily getting worse. I tried more PT, massages, cortisone shots, but nothing helped. My fingers and toes started tingling and going numb on a regular basis, my headaches became more frequent from the tension in my neck; I had trouble falling asleep, watching TV, reading and typing because I couldn’t get comfortable. Grocery shopping on my own and driving far were out of the question. Every single thing in my day-to-day life was impacted in major ways, and nothing brought me relief. No amount of ice, heat, laying flat, relaxing, etc. took the pain away. And no matter how many times I repeated my concerns, no one listened. Until finally, after over two years of all of this, an MRI got ordered for me in January 2020. I had so many mixed emotions. On one hand, I wanted to know what was wrong and going on, but on the other, I was scared to have my worst fears confirmed. And when those fears were confirmed, I was finally sent to a neurosurgeon.
Then there was a time where I believed that even though my worst fears were confirmed, there was hope. There was somebody out there who could fix me and help me. The day I finally went to see a neurosurgeon, I couldn’t help but think: this is it, this is where I’ll finally be able to move forward. But that hope was quickly replaced with a devastating, soul-crushing blow, because I didn’t even see the neurosurgeon, they sent a physician’s assistant to see me instead (no disrespect to any PA’s, I just felt brushed off). The PA basically told me that they could try some pain management techniques but that I’d pretty much been dealt a bad hand of cards and was going to have to live with this for the rest of my life. All of the hope, determination, willpower, and strength I’d been holding in for the last 3 years exploded into nothing but stardust. I felt hopeless, lost, alone. I was so discouraged, I turned inward. The professionals I’d trusted had let me down time and time again, the hope and determination I’d held on to suffocated me, and in the end I was left standing in the exact same place where I started.
I was lost for quite some time. In the months that followed I had so many highs and lows with my neck, I struggled to understand how I could move forward after being crushed so badly. I tried reaching out to other professionals who weren’t very helpful either. I felt all alone. I was struggling with coming to terms with everything. While all of this was going on, I was grappling with other internal battles. All of this combined had made me feel so small and powerless. I felt like I was fighting a losing battle. Then I lost my grandma, and I had all these new feelings of grief to untangle. It was so much loss and devastation at once. It felt like the world around me had been on fire for years, and it finally came in and burned everything to the ground.
But slowly, very slowly, out of the ashes I started healing and reclaiming my power. I sought help; I started understanding my emotions and dealing with them in a healthier way. For the first time since that fateful day in August 2017, I started feeling powerful again; the wounds I’d ignored for so long had finally started healing. I started doing deep breathing and meditating, which allowed me to relax and detach from my body and pain for a short amount of time. I let go of my wrestling dream once and for all; I surrendered to what was and what will be. My pain hadn’t improved and was still impacting my daily life, but I was doing my best to not be a victim of circumstance.
It’s funny how all cliché sayings are true. Because once I closed the door and finally let go, another one opened for me. I got another appointment with the neurosurgeon this past January, and it went surprisingly well. The neurosurgeon told me that if a facet joint injection helped my neck, he would be open to doing a small, simple surgery. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t leave the appointment slightly elated. This was a positive possibility—there was a chance I wouldn’t have to live like this for the rets of my life. I was excited, but I didn’t want to be too excited or optimistic; I’d gotten my hopes up so many times with stuff for my neck, and every time I’d been let down.
I had the facet joint injection done this past February, but it didn’t work. As much as I’d tried to not get my hopes up, I think there was still some small part of me that did. It was another letdown. I’d gone from finally letting go and trying to accept my neck for what it was, to having new hopeful options, to those new and hopeful options not working. I then had an EMG test done to see if there was any damage to my nerves. When I was told that there’s not and that that’s a good thing, I didn’t know what to feel. Yes, no nerve damage is good, but now what? I felt like all I’d been doing was running in circles; I was back to square one. And as much as I tried to keep my emotions even and neutral, I couldn’t. I’d had glimmers of hope, of change, and they were once again snatched away from me. My neurosurgeon gave me a soft collar for my neck to wear around the house. I was typing with it on one day and burst into tears wondering if this is going to be what the rest of my life looks like: me moving around the house, testing chairs and work stations like Goldilocks but never finding one that was just right, only to stop typing every 5 minutes because of the pain, all the while wearing a neck brace like a lucky piece of jewelry.
I was told there was one last thing I could try besides a surgery that had a 50/50 shot of working: a medial branch block injection. This injection temporarily blocks nerve endings that signal pain; it’s a diagnostic injection that helps better determine where exactly the pain is coming from. The injection only lasts for 3 days—sometimes less, very rarely more—but if it helps and provides any sort of pain relief, there will be another round of the same exact injections. From there, if the second round works again, the doctors will then go in and perform an ablation—a procedure in which they cauterize the nerve(s). Even though I was warned that the injection had a 50/50 shot of working, my neurosurgeon suggested I still try it since as it’s less invasive than a surgery that’s not guaranteed to work anyways. Of course I I agreed to do it, what did I have to lose?
Thursday, May 20, 2021 I got the injection between C5 and C6, and C6 and C7 on both sides of my neck. When the injection was done and I rolled over back onto the stretcher to go into post-op, I was shocked by how easy the movement was. When in post-op they asked me what my pain level was at, I was baffled as I realized that I was in the least amount of pain since as far as I could remember. I couldn’t believe I was able to text my boyfriend and look down at my phone without serious pain in my neck. I was able to drink my water and eat my snack just fine. My mind was blown. Is this what normal people live like? Is this what its like to not have to worry about hurting yourself even more every second of every day? Is this what I’ve missed for the last 4 years?
The injection has, sadly, long faded off now. I’ve had to readjust myself about 30 times as I’ve been writing this, and my neck is currently killing me, and my brace is annoying me, and I can’t get comfortable. My pain is back to where it was, but for the first time in forever, I have hope. I was not 100% better after the injection, but I was able to read without being in immense pain, sit down in a chair and get comfortable more easily. All the little things I’ve been missing feel suddenly in reach again. I know that this isn’t going to bring me back to where I was prior to my car accident, but it’s better, and that’s something.
I have been on a rollercoaster ride with this neck injury. It has thrown me for a loop and turned me inside out more times than I can count, and I know the ride isn’t over, but I don’t feel so twisted anymore. One of the biggest things I’ve learned through all of this is that there are things in life that are beyond our control. You have to be smart and seek professional help when you need to, but you can’t sit around and wait for someone else to fix you, either. You need to control what you can control and surrender to what you can’t. You need to be able to learn and adapt and not hold onto the past, be accepting of new normals. Learn to roll with the punches and go-with-the-flow. Things will happen and life will change in an instant, and that’s OK. No matter how much you trust a higher power, you still have to put in the work yourself and make it happen. You are the only one in charge of living a meaningful and fulfilling life, and your version of a meaningful and fulfilling life will look different than everyone else’s—and that’s OK, it should look different. There is no one else in the world going through exactly what you are going through in this exact moment of time. Use that, embrace it. Don’t compare yourself to others or get caught up in daydreaming about the what-if’s. Work with what you have, and make the most of the gifts you are given. I’m optimistic about the future, and no matter what happens, I know I’ll be OK. Regardless of what comes my way, I know that I’ll be able to handle it one way or another.
It is wonderful to see you have developed a positive perspective on life, despite the roller coaster you’ve been on. Your strong mental approach to it all is key. It is fantastic that you haven’t acquiesced to the first bad news prognosis. You continued to believe in and search for another solution. Please make sure that the stressors and the roller coaster ride don’t get you down or affect the rest of your physical health. I lost a best friend this past weekend. He was always stressed, had trouble sleeping, was always worried. He was dealt one crappy hit after another. He was so genuine and pure hearted, that it didn’t make any sense how someone so amazing could be marked with such bad luck, almost a curse. Though he kept persevering, the stress just took a toll on his 36 year old body. Though he was otherwise healthy, an educated 20 year bodybuilder and an amazing trainer, and spectacular human being, his body couldn’t handle the stressors from the continued bad run of luck and all of his worries.
Stay strong, stay positive, if you ever find yourself in a rut, re-read the last paragraph in your post. Those words of wisdom will empower you.
Be well, I wish you all the best medical outcomes and a truly pain-free future.
I look forward to the day you find relief.
Author
Thank you so much for the kind words! They mean a lot to me, and thank you for taking the time to read. I’m sorry to hear about your friend, sending you positive vibes in your time of grief.