I wasn’t sure when — or if — I’d write another post-op update. But early Sunday morning, with a cup of coffee and my laptop in front of me, I found I had nothing else to write about. So here we are.
It’s hard to believe it’s been a little over six weeks since my back surgery and lumbar fusion. I wasn’t certain I’d share another update, but as this recovery journey continues — slowly but surely — I find myself needing frequent reminders to be patient, stay mindful, and not rush the process. Writing it all down helps reinforce that intention.
The pain that plagued me for over a year is, thankfully, mostly gone. But it’s been traded for new, unfamiliar aches. Some days, the new pain rivals the old; other days, I’m surprisingly (though relatively) pain-free. These ups and downs bring alternating moments of joy and frustration.
At the five-week-and-two-day mark (yes, I’m counting), I saw the surgeon and had x-rays taken. He walked in smiling and said everything looked great and that healing was progressing normally. When I mentioned the new leg and back pains, he explained that it was typical. They had to “manipulate” muscles and nerves to do what needed to be done. That, along with gradually increasing leg activity after months of minimal use, was likely the cause.
He reminded me that it could take at least three months before I notice significant and sustained improvement — and that full recovery could take six months or more. I knew that going in, but now that I’m in it, three months feels like a long time. So yes, patience continues to be the theme of the season.
I got to see the hardware now holding me together—screws, rods, and a spacer between the vertebrae. I was amazed at how deep the screws run into the bone, stopping just short of the other side. Considering the ratio of bone to titanium, it’s surprising the vertebrae don’t split like wood. Thankfully, my bones are healthy — even if they were out of place. Pointing to the x-ray, the surgeon noted signs of “early vertebral disc space fusion healing.” That was reassuring to hear, though I had no idea what I was actually looking at.
It’s frustrating to rely on my wife for so many simple tasks, though I’m immensely grateful she’s both able and willing to help. I never realized how often I drop things—until I couldn’t pick them up. And during the rare moments when pain is minimal, I have to remind myself not to break the rules by bending or lifting. Thankfully, Colleen is very alert and keeps a close eye on me to prevent any careless movements.
Normal, everyday activities like tending to my indoor light garden have become a team effort. Colleen hands me the plants I want to work with, helps with daily watering, and manages the tasks I can’t do myself. I often find myself staring out the living room windows, yearning to get back to yard work and the projects that will likely have to wait until next year.
As the weather warms, our daily walks have become a cornerstone of my recovery—both physically and mentally. Until I’m cleared for physical therapy, walking (including stairs) as much as I can tolerate is the best prescription the surgeon can offer. The distance increases a bit each day, though I remain purposefully cautious not to push too hard.
At this point, the pain is very cyclical — coming and going without a clear pattern. Trying to sleep often brings out the worst of it. That’s frustrating, as I’ve always believed that it’s during sleep that the body heals. Still, even that’s improving; sleep is becoming less sporadic. Some mornings, I even wake up and almost pop out of bed without a second thought—though that’s when I have to be the most careful. Morning stiffness and pain are still present, but the intensity is noticeably decreasing.
Lately, there are times, usually in the afternoon and evening, when I can almost forget the pain. Those relatively pain-free moments still feel surreal, and I relish them.
Being able to drive a little has helped. I can run errands, and we occasionally go out for a meal. Strangely enough, my car’s driver seat might be the most comfortable chair I use. I know I won’t be hitting the range anytime soon, but I’ve been enjoying the occasional cigar and drink — with a bit more moderation than usual, balancing the healing process with the joys of life.
Small things — like a trip to the store with my dear wife to carry the bags, or getting a haircut — add welcome variety to the monotony of healing. I even made a visit to the cigar lounge recently. And to my great joy, I’ve been able to attend Sunday Mass the past few weeks. I’m still limited in my ability to kneel, bow, or genuflect, but even with those restrictions, it’s been a meaningful and welcome return.
My next check-in with the surgeon is in five weeks. I’m looking forward to seeing more bone growth on the x-rays. I also hope to report a decrease in pain and discomfort — and, per the doctor’s orders, a significant increase in my daily walking distance. I’m very much looking forward to being cleared for physical therapy so I can start regaining lost strength.
I take it as a good sign that some of my biggest frustrations lately have been with the weather, not with pain. I am anxious for Spring to arrive, and stay. I'm tired of cold weather! We’re in the middle of having our deck and screen porch renovated, which means the protected porch is unavailable. Cool, rainy days hinder my ability to enjoy a cigar or simply be outside.
Despite the limitations, the aches of healing, and the occasional bout of boredom, I remain very optimistic about the future. Progress is being made. Even with the ups and downs, the overall trajectory is upward. A friend recently told me, “The day will come when you wonder when the pain stopped.” That resonated deeply, and I remind myself of it often.
My back will heal — eventually — and I’ll once again enjoy many of my favorite activities. And we’ll finally be able to get this retirement phase of life into full swing.
Patience.
Cheers!
