The Bastard-Ass History Of My Spinal Column: or Suicide Before Surgery
Gambitgirlie has a bad back. A very bad back. I got hurt in a weird accident at work and it's been downhill from there. I will be 25 soon, and have had two spinal surgeries in the last five years. Last time I was operated on, I had a "ladder" of metal supports implanted into the bone of my spinal column in order to keep me ambulatory. After a month of having someone else wipe my ass, three months of not being able to walk, and a total of three years of not being able to work or stand up for 10 minutes at a time or carry a dictionary or walk up stairs without insane amounts of morphine....I decided to say "fuck it" and do what I wanted regardless of what the surgeon said. I refused to have a third surgery, even though I knew it was an eventuality. Well kids, it's getting worse much faster than anyone expected. Plans are now in the works for SurgeryFest 2004 and I will be damned before I allow that to happen. The title of my journal is not ironic gallows humor, and I am too tired and scared and generally fucking freaked out about the pain and sheer helplessness of being physically dependant on another human being again to deal. Now I'm not slitting my wrists as I type, so no freakout posts, ok?
Gambitgirlie has a bad back. A very bad back. I got hurt in a weird accident at work and it's been downhill from there. I will be 25 soon, and have had two spinal surgeries in the last five years. Last time I was operated on, I had a "ladder" of metal supports implanted into the bone of my spinal column in order to keep me ambulatory. After a month of having someone else wipe my ass, three months of not being able to walk, and a total of three years of not being able to work or stand up for 10 minutes at a time or carry a dictionary or walk up stairs without insane amounts of morphine....I decided to say "fuck it" and do what I wanted regardless of what the surgeon said. I refused to have a third surgery, even though I knew it was an eventuality. Well kids, it's getting worse much faster than anyone expected. Plans are now in the works for SurgeryFest 2004 and I will be damned before I allow that to happen. The title of my journal is not ironic gallows humor, and I am too tired and scared and generally fucking freaked out about the pain and sheer helplessness of being physically dependant on another human being again to deal. Now I'm not slitting my wrists as I type, so no freakout posts, ok?
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
mexicant:
you could get one of those spider-legged wheelchairs...
kestrel:
Damn straight you aren't; bleeding all over your keyboard is bad for it.