So, Joe had back surgery.

When his back went out Palm Sunday, we were accustomed to the drill. He has a spinal birth defect that has caused all sorts of problems that I can’t explain because, quite frankly, I still don’t fully understand in spite of his Orthopedist’s detailed explanations. So, long story a little shorter, in April he only had one cortisone shot rather than going back for the the suggested two more and a follow-up MRI.

At some point after April his right leg started going numb and his lower back and leg began hurting terribly. *Insert visual of Joe’s old man limp here.* Fast forward. A recent MRI revealed that he had a deteriorating disc that we think may have ruptured back in April. It had partially slipped onto a nerve, thus the pain in his leg and lower back. So, with MRI CD in hand, he went to see his Orthopedist who then sent him to a Spine Specialist. Although Joe agreed that surgery to remove the portion of the disc from the nerve was imminent, he quickly began considering his brother’s suggestion to go see his Neurosurgeon. Two reasons: Joe’s brother had neck surgery and two back surgeries (the last of which was a spinal fusion) this past summer at the new NeuroMedical Center in Baton Rouge. Of course we were confident in the praises that his brother sang about the Neurosurgeon. But what sealed the deal was the fact that the spine doctor looked “like he was fresh out of college,” as Joe put it. So he wouldn’t be cutting on Joe.

Both the Neurosurgeon and the Spine Specialist said Joe would need surgery right away. They were also both confident that Joe had enough disc left to avoid further surgery for now. After he saw the Neurosurgeon, surgery was scheduled. We fully anticipated immediate relief. But so often in life we focus on the end result and forget the many details involved in getting us from Point A to Point B.

After Surgery, the Surgeon said that Joe should feel immediate relief in his leg and lower back. Although there was enough disc left to not warrant further surgery, there is still a possibility that it will wear down requiring a spinal fusion in the future. (Of course, we’re praying for complete healing.) He anticipated a speedy recovery but repeatedly stressed the importance of Joe not lifting more than ten pounds for the next eight weeks. On Palm Sunday, Joe lifted Sophie in the air like fathers often do when his back went out. I’ll never forget the look on Sophie’s face when she found me in the bathroom getting ready for church that morning. “My dad needs you,” she said.

I knew that Joe would struggle with not being able to pick up Sophie. When the nurses went over his orders with him he said, “I can’t pick up my little girl?” I’m sure it’s heartbreaking for a father to hear that. It made me think of the analogy I used in Amy’s birthday post about chasing God and a little girl chasing her father only to have him turn and catch her. Maybe Joe just needs to let Daddy God twirl Sophie for a while. But just in case he doesn’t see things that way we offered extras stickers for Sophie’s sticker chart and rewards for helping Daddy get better by telling us if he tries to lift her.

I suppose not lifting Sophie was the worst of Joe’s post-back surgery reality although his reaction to some of the minor stuff wasn’t really much different. For example, he was informed that he would start out with a liquid diet and then try to tolerate a meal. Just moments after a tray with Popsicles, Jello, Cranberry Juice and chicken broth was brought in he started ranting and raving about not having chocolate pudding and “how in the world do they get Jello chocolate pudding out of this?” I tried to tell him they said he had Jello. As in gelatin. Not Bill Cosby Jello chocolate pudding. But apparently the mention of Jello combined with the small non-transparent container of Cranberry Juice revealing a dark, luscious substance spelled Jello chocolate pudding to him. He ripped into that cranberry juice like a preschooler at snack time and spilled it all over him. I marched over with my McDonald’s crispy chicken sandwich in hand that Amy brought me on her lunch break and tried to calm him down.

“This ain’t me,” he repeated with a disgusted look on his face. “Well, Joe, they don’t exactly give you a form to fill out with “what’s you” for your post-op meals,” I told him and quickly pointed out that the coffee container had chicken broth just as they had mentioned when they brought the tray and that’s him. He calmed down a little because he knew he wanted that chicken broth, took one look at it and said, “they probably didn’t add a bouillon cube like I do.” And then he stared at my left hand which I had totally forgotten about and said, “you come over here waving a chicken sandwich in my face.” Well, yea, I did.  I put the sandwich down before he attacked me and then called the nurses station to see if he could have a Diet Coke because I just couldn’t take him glaring at me like that every time I sipped mine from McD’s. I had no idea that  having Amy bring lunch would be so traumatic for him. But I did totally prepare her for an entertaining lunch. Was I right, Amy?

You would think the fact that Joe did feel immediate relief in his leg and could bend it and move it with ease would overshadow everything. Well, I suppose you would think that if you were not the one who had back surgery. His colorful use of language when I asked him how he felt revealed otherwise. We’ll blame it on the anesthesia. I had been prepared about this but I had no idea that anesthesia was like truth serum. I can’t remember everything he rattled off after recovery but then again, much of it was just too colorful to share anyway. But after repeating several times what the doctor told me because he kept asking me over and over I told the nurse, “he isn’t gonna’ remember anything I say.” And he said, “men remember what they want to remember.” In front of a witness he confirmed what all women already knew. But guess what—he doesn’t remember saying it. Or does he?

Joe shared more than the truth with the nurse on staff. He had no problem flashing his rear and said so. It wasn’t long after that the nurse told us she couldn’t believe we had a twenty-year-old and a grandbaby because we look twenty-two. I’m sure it had nothing to do with Joe’s backside, though.

The staff seemed unscathed by his harassment but I left them a note of apology on their dry erase board anyway. Every time the door opened, Joe interrogated the nurse or tech or other staff member about why he couldn’t leave right then. If I knew then what I know now more than 48 hours past surgery I would’ve begged them to let us stay. But I knew Joe would be more comfortable at home in his own bed. See:

At the hospital:

At home:

He’s hurting much more than I thought he would. But of all things I should’ve been prepared for this. He’s had three other surgeries since marriage and let’s just say recovery wasn’t pretty with any of them.

I have to be honest. Surgery happened so fast with little time to prepare and I totally assumed all of the details like help with Sophie or back-up for Gavin would be a piece of cake. We didn’t anticipate my parents working out of town rendering them unable to help. And I’m never prepared for lack of sleep several nights in a row. Take my food and water but don’t take my sleep. I’m just no good. At. All. Sometime after a sleep deprived minor meltdown, I realized that God was providing just as He always has. Maybe things didn’t turn out like we had anticipated. Sophie’s bed rails for her new big girl bed have been on back order for nearly twelve weeks. After two weeks of having her in and out of our bed because of sickness, we very naively told her she could sleep with us until her big girl bed was in. Never did we think it would be this long or that Joe would have surgery.

We took for granted that help with kids would be available exactly when we needed it. So we didn’t plan. Another lesson learned. We had no clue that Joe’s HSA insurance plan would mean a huge deductible needed to be met. But in the midst of interruptions, disappointments and the unexpected, if we will just take a moment to seek Him He will quiet our souls. And right in the midst of the chaos we will find calm. He provides. He made a way for that deductible to be met. He provided via prayers from friends and family, a visit and lunch from Amy, a card and chocolate from Diana, phone calls and texts and more prayers. The words of a friend during times of stress can be a soothing, healing balm. And in Joe’s case, pain pills help.

Joe fully expected that he would be back at work on Monday. And maybe he will. Right now, I’m not so sure but if we will just take it one day at a time and trust Him to provide for that day, we’ll trade our stress for peace.

It’s quiet here right now. So, I’m off to enjoy the quiet with him. Thanks to everyone for your prayers and love!! We can’t always be there every time there is a need, but if we will let Him work through us as He wills, He will meet the need.