There's something in my life that has plagued me for a while now. Most people know I have back problems, but not everyone knows the whole story. Here it is:
Fall semester 2010 I joined the Air Force ROTC at Brigham Young University. I was so excited to be part of the Air Force. I loved it, but it was physically demanding. Duh. I could take it though. I was suffering, but enjoying it. Then about halfway through September I started to have some pain in my right leg. I thought I just needed to stretch my hamstring, but nothing I did could stretch my leg. I asked my sister, a dance major, for help. That didn't work either. So I pushed through it for a while thinking it would loosen up on its own. It didn't. It continued to increase.
I finally went to the doctor and asked about it. The doctor told me that it seemed like I had a tight muscle pressing against my sciatic nerve. She sent me to physical therapy to loosen up. The physical therapy was good, but the pain shifted down to my ankle. This is all in my right leg. That should have been a big clue to my physical therapist, but it wasn't. Eventually I felt well enough to walk without a limp.
At the end of the semester I decided I was going to stop going to physical therapy after the Christmas break, but continue with my stretches on my own. Finals week, I had a take home final for the AF. Tuesday, December 14th, 1:00PM I went to turn it in. I was riding my bike up to campus. There were two stop signs from my apartment to the bottom of Maeser Hill. The first stop sign was fine. The second one, right at the bottom of the hill, was when my world really changed. As I pushed off to turn left, I felt an extreme pain in my lower back. I was in the middle of the road and could barely see straight. Thankfully I was able to keep it together long enough to get out of the road. I've never been shot by a gun, but I imagine that if I were, that's what it would feel like. When I got out of the road and off my bike, I couldn't lift either foot more than a quarter of an inch without excruciating pain and it was all I could do to not cry uncontrollably.
I turned in my final (yes, I am very stubborn. Stubborn enough to push through the pain and walk all the way across campus to turn in my final). Then had my sister take me to urgent care, where they gave me pain meds and said good luck. I have a very high tolerance for pain. For example, my sister's 6 (from 1-10) is my 2. Maybe. I told urgent care I felt like an 11.
Over Christmas break I had an MRI taken, but it wasn't printed until after I returned to school. I had bought a cane to help me walk because my pain was still so intense. I made an appointment with a neurosurgeon in Salt Lake City. Just before my appointment though, I received a phone call from my mom and she told me the doctor's analysis of my MRI. He said it looked like someone took a sledgehammer to a 60 year old woman's back. I was only 20. He also said I had two herniated discs and two disintegrating discs. As you can imagine, I found a hidden corner on campus, and cried.
Then my appointment with the neurosurgeon came around. She is the best doctor I have ever talked with. She sat me down, and the first thing she said was "Tell me what happened." Then she didn't talk at all, until I was completely finished. Then, in layman's terms, she told me what happened. She showed me my MRI and a model of the human spine. She said my MRI only revealed two herniated discs; one centrally and one toward the right. My family doctor was wrong. My L4-L5 and L5-S1 discs herniated. It's like a little rubber balloon filled with crab meat popped (just a small hole), and the crab meat was leaking out. The free crab meat (a.k.a. spinal fluid) was pressing against my nerves, and that is why I was in such excruciating pain. The neurosurgeon said she could do surgery, but it would be pointless because only about 10% of the time can she find the hole and stitch it up.
So now I know why I hurt. I asked if it would get better. She said that the holes would eventually close up but that I should never again do somethings. Here's part of my list of things to never do again: run, jump, bend over, twist, ride my bike, play sports, hike, climb, sleep on my side, lift pretty much any object over 5 pounds.
I was 20 years old. I was in my prime. I was in the Air Force! I had a huge ego just like any normal 20 year old.
I received my prescription for physical therapy, thanked her, and walked out. If I ever have to see her again, it'll be for surgery. Hopefully that will never happen again.
Once again, I sat in my car in the parking lot, and cried. The realization of how drastically my life had changed was hitting me. I'm a geology student, I was in the Air Force ROTC, and I've always played sports. I also fall asleep on my side. I am also incredibly independent, but everything I could do by myself, I would now need someone else to help me accomplish the minor tasks these abilities allowed me to do myself.
When I started physical therapy I was almost resigned to a life of dependency. My physical therapist examined my MRI and had me do some exercises. Then, he explained why this happened to me at 20 years old. 1. My right leg is shorter than my left leg. Most people have one leg shorter than the other, but it doesn't normally affect most people. I guess I'm not as normal as I thought. 2. My SI joint (sacroiliac joint) is stiff. That is the joint that allows people to bend over and stand up again without pain or problem. My joint doesn't allow me to straighten like normal people. 3. I've always had a heavy backpack in school and played sports. In addition, the summer of 2010 I went backpacking with my grandfather and uncle, then joined the ROTC in the fall. That adds up to a lot of stress on my back through out my life.
As depressing as this was, it wasn't the hardest thing for me to swallow. I was planning on submitting my mission application in April 2011. I talked with the neurosurgeon in January 2011. However, my physical therapist wanted me to come see him 3 times a week. Each visit was about 3 hours long. So knowing that I wasn't going to have a chance to serve a full-time proselyting mission in my current condition, I dedicated myself to physical therapy so I could have a chance to reach that goal.
I knew I couldn't do it by myself though. I asked God for help. I promised him that if he would help me heal enough to serve a full-time mission, that I would give my very best every day of my mission.
At the end of winter semester, the middle of April, my physical therapist removed everything from my "don't ever do again" list, except bend over. With time, I can run. I still need to be careful twisting and extra careful lifting. Maybe, later in life I can work up to bending over again as well. I was walking with my cane maybe only once or twice a week. And not all day at that.
Heavenly Father helped me heal enough to serve a mission. I served in the California Anaheim Mission from August 2011 to March 2013. It was a full-time mission.
I still have pain and I'm still trying to figure out how to heal more, but I know this trial was given to me for a reason. I have learned a lot. My faith has been strengthened. I have developed more charity and understanding for other people. I'm grateful for my trial. I can walk. My life is different than what I had planned, but I still have my life.
Fall semester 2010 I joined the Air Force ROTC at Brigham Young University. I was so excited to be part of the Air Force. I loved it, but it was physically demanding. Duh. I could take it though. I was suffering, but enjoying it. Then about halfway through September I started to have some pain in my right leg. I thought I just needed to stretch my hamstring, but nothing I did could stretch my leg. I asked my sister, a dance major, for help. That didn't work either. So I pushed through it for a while thinking it would loosen up on its own. It didn't. It continued to increase.
I finally went to the doctor and asked about it. The doctor told me that it seemed like I had a tight muscle pressing against my sciatic nerve. She sent me to physical therapy to loosen up. The physical therapy was good, but the pain shifted down to my ankle. This is all in my right leg. That should have been a big clue to my physical therapist, but it wasn't. Eventually I felt well enough to walk without a limp.
At the end of the semester I decided I was going to stop going to physical therapy after the Christmas break, but continue with my stretches on my own. Finals week, I had a take home final for the AF. Tuesday, December 14th, 1:00PM I went to turn it in. I was riding my bike up to campus. There were two stop signs from my apartment to the bottom of Maeser Hill. The first stop sign was fine. The second one, right at the bottom of the hill, was when my world really changed. As I pushed off to turn left, I felt an extreme pain in my lower back. I was in the middle of the road and could barely see straight. Thankfully I was able to keep it together long enough to get out of the road. I've never been shot by a gun, but I imagine that if I were, that's what it would feel like. When I got out of the road and off my bike, I couldn't lift either foot more than a quarter of an inch without excruciating pain and it was all I could do to not cry uncontrollably.
I turned in my final (yes, I am very stubborn. Stubborn enough to push through the pain and walk all the way across campus to turn in my final). Then had my sister take me to urgent care, where they gave me pain meds and said good luck. I have a very high tolerance for pain. For example, my sister's 6 (from 1-10) is my 2. Maybe. I told urgent care I felt like an 11.
Over Christmas break I had an MRI taken, but it wasn't printed until after I returned to school. I had bought a cane to help me walk because my pain was still so intense. I made an appointment with a neurosurgeon in Salt Lake City. Just before my appointment though, I received a phone call from my mom and she told me the doctor's analysis of my MRI. He said it looked like someone took a sledgehammer to a 60 year old woman's back. I was only 20. He also said I had two herniated discs and two disintegrating discs. As you can imagine, I found a hidden corner on campus, and cried.
Then my appointment with the neurosurgeon came around. She is the best doctor I have ever talked with. She sat me down, and the first thing she said was "Tell me what happened." Then she didn't talk at all, until I was completely finished. Then, in layman's terms, she told me what happened. She showed me my MRI and a model of the human spine. She said my MRI only revealed two herniated discs; one centrally and one toward the right. My family doctor was wrong. My L4-L5 and L5-S1 discs herniated. It's like a little rubber balloon filled with crab meat popped (just a small hole), and the crab meat was leaking out. The free crab meat (a.k.a. spinal fluid) was pressing against my nerves, and that is why I was in such excruciating pain. The neurosurgeon said she could do surgery, but it would be pointless because only about 10% of the time can she find the hole and stitch it up.
So now I know why I hurt. I asked if it would get better. She said that the holes would eventually close up but that I should never again do somethings. Here's part of my list of things to never do again: run, jump, bend over, twist, ride my bike, play sports, hike, climb, sleep on my side, lift pretty much any object over 5 pounds.
I was 20 years old. I was in my prime. I was in the Air Force! I had a huge ego just like any normal 20 year old.
I received my prescription for physical therapy, thanked her, and walked out. If I ever have to see her again, it'll be for surgery. Hopefully that will never happen again.
Once again, I sat in my car in the parking lot, and cried. The realization of how drastically my life had changed was hitting me. I'm a geology student, I was in the Air Force ROTC, and I've always played sports. I also fall asleep on my side. I am also incredibly independent, but everything I could do by myself, I would now need someone else to help me accomplish the minor tasks these abilities allowed me to do myself.
When I started physical therapy I was almost resigned to a life of dependency. My physical therapist examined my MRI and had me do some exercises. Then, he explained why this happened to me at 20 years old. 1. My right leg is shorter than my left leg. Most people have one leg shorter than the other, but it doesn't normally affect most people. I guess I'm not as normal as I thought. 2. My SI joint (sacroiliac joint) is stiff. That is the joint that allows people to bend over and stand up again without pain or problem. My joint doesn't allow me to straighten like normal people. 3. I've always had a heavy backpack in school and played sports. In addition, the summer of 2010 I went backpacking with my grandfather and uncle, then joined the ROTC in the fall. That adds up to a lot of stress on my back through out my life.
As depressing as this was, it wasn't the hardest thing for me to swallow. I was planning on submitting my mission application in April 2011. I talked with the neurosurgeon in January 2011. However, my physical therapist wanted me to come see him 3 times a week. Each visit was about 3 hours long. So knowing that I wasn't going to have a chance to serve a full-time proselyting mission in my current condition, I dedicated myself to physical therapy so I could have a chance to reach that goal.
I knew I couldn't do it by myself though. I asked God for help. I promised him that if he would help me heal enough to serve a full-time mission, that I would give my very best every day of my mission.
At the end of winter semester, the middle of April, my physical therapist removed everything from my "don't ever do again" list, except bend over. With time, I can run. I still need to be careful twisting and extra careful lifting. Maybe, later in life I can work up to bending over again as well. I was walking with my cane maybe only once or twice a week. And not all day at that.
Heavenly Father helped me heal enough to serve a mission. I served in the California Anaheim Mission from August 2011 to March 2013. It was a full-time mission.
I still have pain and I'm still trying to figure out how to heal more, but I know this trial was given to me for a reason. I have learned a lot. My faith has been strengthened. I have developed more charity and understanding for other people. I'm grateful for my trial. I can walk. My life is different than what I had planned, but I still have my life.
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