Zarina dropped Iman and I in the front lobby and Iman then pushed me in a wheelchair to Dr. Jag's office. Eventhough we frequently visited PCMC for Afiq's Occupational Therapy and Speech Therapy sessions (Afiq is my 8 year old son who is autistic), I noticed that everything feels different from the perspective of someone sitting on wheelchair. I anticipate that I might need to make more frequent visits here for my physio therapy sessions, if that was what going to be suggested by Dr. Jag.
As I finally entered his room, he was attentively reading my file containing my medical record that must been sent by the insurance company prior to my visit. Before I get to tell him what happened, he said, "I know about everything that happened" and then he added in very concerned look, "I just want to know how are you feeling now...". It was quite a relief that I did not get any of the scolding like I was worried about. I told him that I'm feeling much better now. I proudly told him at length about the progress I made in terms of mobility, being able to climb stairs with my crutches, being able to sit down at the dinner table and so on. On the not so positive side I also mentioned about the slight lumbar pain if I were to sit down for too long in which his reply was, as expected, "You had two major spine surgeries just a week ago - you should really take it easy..." but he finally frowned when I told him about my "5:00 am" pain.
He told me to lie down on his examination bed and started doing his routine lifting leg, pushing up, pushing down stuffs. I can't help but cringed in pain at certain positions. He sat me down again and this time asked again what they did to me in the last two surgeries and I explained again to him. By now, I must have repeated the story 50 times already that I'm beginning to sound like a newscaster. After a long pause, his reply stunned me. He said, "You shouldn't be having some of those pain if they had taken out all the protrusion on your disc. I tell you what, let me set an MRI for you...", the word 'MRI' felt like a sharp tug on my gut, "...today and let's also do a nerve test as well. For that I would have to admit you now into the hospital." My heart skipped a beat at the two words 'MRI' and 'admit' and I didn't quite hear the rest. He must have noticed my reaction hence he added, "It's just a test. Just to be sure..."
"What if we find something?" I asked him anxiously.
"Then we would have to go in again..." he replied. "But don't worry. Let us do the MRI first. Just to check..."
Now, when is it that a specialist just ordered an expensive test, 'just to check'...???
After the paperwork was done I was immediately sent to the ward. Zarina had to rush home to get my stuffs - no, not clothes and toiletries - but more importantly; iPad, iPod, Kindle, notebook, and all their respective chargers... That time it was already in the afternoon and my nerve test is scheduled at 4:00 pm and MRI at 7:00 pm (somehow '7' has not been my lucky number since the last few weeks - both my ops started at 7:00 pm!). I waited impatiently. I filled my time mostly with my postings on Facebook...
The nerve test at 4:00 pm was indeed a 'nerve-wrecking' procedure. It involved "shooting" electrical impulse on certain part of your nerve and then measuring how fast the signal travels through that particular nerve. There was about 5 shots on every spot and every time with increasing intensity. Imagine that I was already in pain and then they hit me with more pain. I jerked at the first shot and hurt my back. After the 5 gruelling shots were done I asked the lady who operates the machine, "Is that it?". She said, "No, that's only for the first spot. We have to do the same, 5 times on each spot for 5 different locations on each leg". I almost fainted... Okay, I was exaggerating but really, it was a torture... I asked the lady, "Do you like torturing people...?". She smiled a devilish smile... No, I exaggerated again. They (actually two of them) were actually very kind, pleasant and gentle. But still, I believe they took up the job just because they like to torture people...
The MRI was done at 7:00 pm as planned. By the time we finished with the MRI, Zarina is already back from sending Iman home and with all my stuffs and she wanted to spend the night at the hospital with me. Pity her too... only one night in her own bed and now she had to endure the hospital's sofa bed - which by the look of it, would be many times less comfy then our own bed at home. But she still insisted to accompany me that night. How can I say no. No matter how luxury, well-equipped and well-staffed with highly trained professionals the hospital is; nothing can beat the tender loving care of my own wife. The emotional support is what I needed more at that time compared to the professional physical care.
We had a fairly restful night that night. Maybe we were both still exhausted from the long travel home. Zarina was still jet-lagged but I slept like a log.
Dr. Jag came to my room very early the next morning. By the look on his face; I knew. It wasn't going to be a good news.
"I'm sorry..." he said, "We have to go in again..."
I was speechless... His following few sentences went quickly in a blur. It was something about what they found in the MRI. Then the additional risks of a third operation, the even bigger risks of not doing it. Something about higher risks of infection and a few others. He ended it with telling me that if I want a second opinion, he can get a colleague of his to come and see me or I should feel free to seek a second opinion from another doctor of my choice from any other hospitals. I told him my other doctor is a spinal surgeon in HUKM and I choose to seek for his opinion on this before we move forward. Dr. Jag concurred and told his nurse to pass all the relevant data to Zarina for her to bring it to the other doctor.
I didn't, and still couldn't say much after Dr. Jag left. There was too much to process. The was already too much to think about in terms of what he had said but there was even more to think about when it comes to what could happen next! This is the same feeling just like before the second surgery but multiplied a few times more in depth and intensity.
I did ask Dr Jag all these in the conversation just now but I find it hard to process the answers;
"This is exactly the same like what they told me before the second surgery!"
"What had actually happened in between the second surgery and now?"
"Is it because they had not done a good job in the second surgery?"
"If this is how it's gonna be; what is our chance that there won't be a need for a fourth surgery?"
He of course answered them all professionally and with his best ability but nothing could really satisfy me, and worse; nothing could make him backpedal and reverse his decision as I had hoped.
Zarina had to take a while to comfort me. I was in a mess. For a brief moment; the typical men and women roles were reversed for a while. She had to leave after a while to rush to the other hospital. I was again waiting impatiently. Some part of me wanted Dr. Jag to be wrong but as much as we agree that numbers don't lie; we have to agree that MRI doesn't lie too...
The call finally came after what seemed like a very long time and Zarina said my other doctor wanted to talk to me personally on this and she then passed the phone to him. I half expected what he was going to say next - " If it was me, I would have recommended the same thing too" he said and I replied; "Thanks. You don't know how comforting it is just to hear that directly from you..." I put down the phone and then buzzed the nurse in and told her, "Please tell Dr. Jag; I'm in..."
Everything else after was so much a routine that I could really do without the nurses, anesthetists, even my surgeon and everyone else involved telling me about the procedure and what was going to happen. The only differences are maybe that this surgery was on a Saturday morning and it only took 4 hours. Oh, and also an unpleasant difference - due to my sleep apnea, the anesthetists here prefer that I be wheeled in into the OT before they put all the GA lines on me instead of putting me on sedative first then only to go in. Bad idea for me. Being wide awake in the OT and seeing all the commotion of the crew members getting ready is certainly not calming. Even the sight of the huge overhead spotlights (or whatever they call it) was scary! And to top it all up, when the GA came in without you being sedated first, just like my surgeon described; felt like your veins are burning - literally! My 'last 10 seconds' this time was filled up with my screams instead...
I woke up "shortly" after and was expecting the normal tiring-but-relieving feeling but instead quickly noticed the burning sensation on my back, where the surgery was done. Zarina was there next to me holding my hand but the first word I uttered to her was, "Why is it painful? Why is it painful???" again and again and later, (I don't remember this but she said) I kept saying, "Flatten the bed... flatten the bed"... until they had to knock me down again...
Next time I woke up it was the familiar tiring-but-relieving feeling again. The first few seconds I saw Zarina, then my eyes shut. Then next time open, was my elder sister, then shut, then open again and my other elder sister. Then a long restful sleep... I was told that quite a few other friends and relatives showed up at the ICU that day but they all let me sleep through... The recuperating process has begun... for the third and final time... I hope...
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