How crushed is my spine?

One of the benefits of this site is that I can write down the accident story once, and any interested friends can read it without me having to retell it countless times, while anyone who is not interested can skip it. This way everyone has been able to get caught up and can skip straight to the moral support, which is great. One friend pointed out that the accident story is lacking in a few major details, such as the outcome of my injuries and prognosis. So I will attempt to answer some frequently asked questions, such as "How crushed is your spine, anyway?"

I ended the accident narrative with being bundled into the ambulance, because the day got a lot less exciting from there. There were some interesting moments, like being given a tetanus shot while being asked to pee in a bedpan for the very first time. This was not, in my opinion, a good time for multi-tasking. Also, a public service announcement to doctors everywhere: surprises do not always make everything better. Surprise Party = Good, Surprise Suturing = Bad. You should always notify people when you are about to sew their faces, especially if they are supposed to be immobilized and flinching could be dangerous. There was also a brand-new, state-of-the-art X-ray machine about which the X-ray techs expressed, in hushed tones, fears that it had gained sentience. 

Overall though, the experience mostly consisted of a montage of ceiling tiles and being "log-rolled" into and out of various diagnostic machines while progressively losing almost all of my apparel. I will say that every single one of the dozen or more hospital employees I dealt with was at least kind and competent, and most were extremely considerate and nice. I even admire their apparent commitment to a game called "see who can come up with the least plausible explanation for stealing an item of clothing from a patient."

Here's a break-down of the results of my ER visit:

The doctor came out and gave me the news, but the delivery was all wrong. He told me I crushed 5 of my vertebrae, and acted like it was good news, then paused expectantly for... my sigh of relief? Leap for joy? I gave him neither.

Me: "wow, that sounds like a lot"
Dr.: "Only 5!"
Me: "How many vertebrae do I have?"
Dr.: "12 thoracic"
Me: "5 out of 12....still seems like a lot. What do you mean by crushed? Like am I shorter now?" (joking)
Dr.: "That's a good question. Yes you are!" (not joking) "1-2mm. shorter per vertebrae. You'll probably never notice."

I turned to Eric and informed him that for the rest of my life, whenever I can't reach a hold, he's getting blamed. (not joking)

Dr.: "You just have to wear a back brace for a few weeks!"
Me: sigh of relief, big smile. "That's not so bad. Like 2? 3?"
Dr.: "Haha, no 6! 6 weeks!"

This guy was way too cheerful. I realize that this probably stems from the fact that when a patient comes in with a probable back or neck injury, they start thinking about things like paralysis, and nerve damage, and dangerous surgery or lengthy hospital stays. None of that had ever entered my mind. I woke up that morning completely healthy, fully expecting to return to bed that night in the same condition. I was hoping for and fully expecting "The X-rays were normal, you're fine, go home." So 6 weeks in a back brace, which was exactly the amount of time remaining in my summer of climbing in Boulder, was terrible news.

I was fitted for a back brace, appropriated an ice pack, and Eric and I left the hospital about 12 hours after starting our unfortunate climb. We stopped on the way home to fill my prescription at Walgreen's, and while waiting discovered lawn chairs on sale for $25. These are the old-school kind of lawn chair, where it lays out flat like a cot about 6 inches off the ground and then the back and foot part can be adjusted to various intensities of reclining. After a brief reflection on the seating options at my house - which include straight-backed kitchen chairs, the world's most uncomfortable futon, and the floor - I bought one. Now all those references to spending my life in a lawn chair are starting to make sense, right? Foreshadowing! Anyway, it may have been the best $25 I have ever spent, but I am eagerly awaiting the day I will have a back brace and lawn chair bonfire.

5 days later, I returned to the ER to have my stitches removed. This service was performed by, I'm going to say, an orderly? He was wearing coveralls, stationed at the intake desk, and did not inspire any sort of medical confidence. Still, I trusted that suture removal has to be pretty simple, and also, I was mildly drugged so I didn't care too much. The first three were removed uneventfully. The fourth caused some problems, required several attempts, and brought on an excited whoop and sigh of relief from the suture removal apprentice when he managed it. I said, "All done?" His face took on a look of concern as he said "No, one more - this one's going to be tricky!" They teach that exact phrase in Bedside Manner 101. He then stood up and began to pace back and forth a bit, as though psyching himself up for the ordeal to come. The one stitch remaining was the one in my eyelid. Despite the percocet, I managed to dredge up some concern and suggested "Uh... if you want to get someone else, I can wait..." But this guy was no quitter. He went after that last stitch with everything he had. Breathing hard, forehead sweating, hands shaking - I do appreciate that he went the extra mile to add some excitement to an otherwise boring medical chore. The stitch came out though, and I still had all my eyelids. As I rode home, I pondered baking him a "Congrats on your First Medical Procedure!!" cake. I felt sorta honored.

A few days later, I went to the neurosurgeon's office for my follow-up appointment. I have been told by ERs that my wrist was fine when it turned out to be broken, that feeling would return when the swelling went down when in fact there was serious nerve damage, and that my foot was broken when in fact there was way crazier ligament tearing. (separate occasions) So I spent a week believing nothing about my diagnosis and went into this visit fearing the worst, yet still hoping, (though at this point I knew it wasn't possible) that I was not broken and could return to climbing soon.

He showed me my X-rays and CT scans and confirmed that 5 vertebrae were damaged, but he said it's really only 3, the other two are pretty much ok. This doesn't seem enormously helpful, since I am under the impression that bones heal concurrently, not consecutively. He also laughed when I asked him about being shorter, and said that is ridiculous, vertebrae being crushed 1-2 mm. doesn't translate, in my case at least, to actual loss of height. This confirms my suspicions of ER information and I am sad to lose this excuse in future climbing endeavors. He told me that my vertebrae are crushed on one side, so like they're tilting forward-ish, and that they are intact and if they heal the way they are now, I should be fine. Also, the side that is damaged is not the side where the spinal cord goes, so there was never any danger of scary nerve damage or paralysis. Basically, the worst case scenario is that I don't heal well, and require surgery. Not a road I want to go down, but still not the end of the world. Or, that I have lifelong pain. He believes the possibility of either is extremely small, especially if I "follow the rules". Here's the unfortunate part. The rules are, I'm in the back brace for - not 6 weeks - but 3 months.
....
Yep, twice as long. The reason is, if you break your arm, it will take about 6 weeks to heal, give or take. That's because your arm is in a super effective cast which keeps it really immobile. The back brace is less than perfect, and can't keep your spine totally immobile, so they leave you in it for 3 months. Followed by 3 additional months of "taking it easy". Apparently, the things you can do while taking it easy include walking. And hiking. Gently.

 At this point, I stopped worrying about my spine and started worrying about my sanity. My next follow-up is for 2 weeks later, when they will take more X-rays and see how I'm healing. I've been drinking extreme amounts of milk and eating lots of ice cream sundaes, and instructing my body very sternly to focus all it's energy on putting calcium directly into my spine. It's not like it's got anything else to do these days. Who knows, maybe the Dr. will look at the X-rays and be like "You must have magically super-fast healing bones! Or else you've been drinking extreme amounts of milk and ordering your body to heal with your incredible willpower and super loyal internal organs and parts! Or else I was wrong in the first place and you were never broken! Either way, go outside and play right now, young lady!"

In the meantime, I continue to wage war against my current life situation in defense of my emotional and mental health.