I know this is a gentle topic. I understand I might make a lot of people angry. But can I please ask that you put your mask back on?
Now let me tell you my story for why’d I’d like you to. Back in January, I woke up in excruciating pain. I had hoped I could wait out the pain, but 48 hours later, I awoke at midnight in anguish I don’t think actually ranks on a scale. It was unlike anything I’ve ever felt in my life. I rushed myself to the ER. Fast forward a week, and I was laying in the hospital awaiting emergency C5 to C7 spinal fusion and disc replacement surgery.
In the timespan of that week, I had to go to the ER, my PCP, Shields MRI, my neurosurgeon’s office, and finally the hospital I had surgery in. I actually had my appointment with my surgeon on my 30th birthday (a bit too on the nose). That was on January 25th, and by January 27th, I was laying in a hospital bed post-op. In between those two days, I had to test negative on a PCR COVID test. Now I don’t know if you recall January, but testing was limited. Omicron was spreading rapidly, and the withdrawal of COVID protocols was not helping. I started scrambling. Friends started scouring the web to find me a testing site. My parents had to drive me to get tested, as my health continued to decline. Thank my lucky moon, the test came back negative the following day.
On my birthday, my surgeon looked me in the face and asked if I was incontinent. I looked at him in shock. When I had gone to the ER five days prior, they had refused to give me an X-Ray or MRI. They told me insurance would make me do pain management for 6 weeks before I’d be allowed to get an MRI. They actually told me the hospital didn’t have an MRI machine (…yeah). I had known when I laid in the bed that I would need surgery. I knew this was a severe nerve issue. I had lost the ability to use my right arm in 48 hours. I had to start using the sleeve of my sweatshirts as a makeshift sling so my right arm wouldn’t move at all. Any slight change would cause electrocuting pulses through my body. I would scream out in pain at the slightest movement. Not yelp, scream. But I never imagined what this all really meant.
When my surgeon pulled up my MRI scans, he asked if I had looked at them. I told him I had, but I didn’t understand them. He said my injury was so bad, it could have already been causing incontinence. He explained there was damage from my C4 to T1 vertebrae, especially on the right side, which made sense as to why I’d lost function on that side. He also told me at one point that he would have no idea I had the injury I had by looking at my demeanor, I was giggly and talkative. I explained to him I had a really high pain tolerance (I also have suffered from chronic pain since a teen and have learned to mask very well — people don’t like to hear about people’s pain, honestly). He showed me how my disc was supposed to look like and how mine looked. It was being smashed.
We talked for a little while, but I wasn’t given an option about surgery. The conversation segued into it unencumbered. I knew I needed it, and I just had to hear what I needed to do before then. When he left the room, he looked back at me and warned me to be extremely careful before surgery. “Don’t slip or trip on anything.” I agreed.
After this is when I started rushing to get a COVID test. I am not a person who goes many places, and I wear a mask everywhere I go still, but I have to say, the fear that infiltrated my body at that point was difficult to deal with. I panicked — What if my test is positive? What if I can’t find a test? — the thought of spending even one more day in the degree of pain I was in was unbearable. And again, I did test negative and got my surgery, but I can say that now in retrospect.
After my surgery, I couldn’t lift myself out of bed for weeks. It took a great deal of effort, and mostly, I would just remain sitting upright so I didn’t have to contort seven ways to get my head balanced over my shoulders. My parents oscillated living with me at this time to take care of me because I wasn’t allowed to lift any weight for a month, and then only light objects until week 6. I had also been intubated during surgery, so my throat/chest felt like someone was choking me and standing on top of me all the time. I would do these breathing exercises where I’d suck in as much air as I could, sticking my stomach and ribs out — then slowly exhale, allowing my stomach to lower all the way, before releasing the air in my lungs and letting them collapse. Over and over. It helped temporarily, but the pain persisted for weeks, restricting my ability to swallow as well (yay choking hazards).
I could continue going on, but know that today, June 24, 2022, nearly 5 months after surgery, I am still suffering from chronic pain from this injury.
The point I want to make here is I just became physically disabled. I have always been COVID cautious, but this is a team project. If I had contracted COVID before my surgery, I could have been paralyzed. Imagine the coughing fits with a neck that injured, or an arm that I couldn’t move without experiencing torturous amounts of pain? Or if I contracted it at any other point in my recovery? All I have thought about this entire time (and before) is the people who haven’t been able to get the surgeries they need. The long-term disabled folks. The ones who couldn’t see their doctors or had to risk getting sick and potentially dying every time they go out in a maskless world. The ones who often times have co-morbidities, making them the most at risk of dying from COVID. The ones that the CDC Director Rochelle Walensky, appointed by President Joe Biden, said the following about:
“The overwhelming number of deaths, over 75%, occurred in people who had at least four comorbidities, so really these are people who were unwell to begin with, and yes, really encouraging news in the context of omicron.”
I think I’ve grown really ashamed of people. Society should always prioritize its most vulnerable populations, ensuring their needs are met first and completely. Disabled people should have been given the microphone to determine guidelines non-disabled folks should have had to follow from the start. Because COVID is a disability disease. But instead, we allowed politicians with eugenic mindsets and capitalistic policies decide how to move forward. And now we continue to witness a mass disabling event unfold — knowing full well how little care this country gives to disabled folks — all while having the tools to curtail it. So please, it is obvious we cannot use the government as our guiding beacon — truly, I wish I saw more people protesting to reinstate COVID mandates — but something we can all do, something that is just so simple and takes into consideration your disabled neighbors and community members, is to wear your mask.
