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Mia Jones

Roxanna Dewey

ENG 101, 11990

20 September 2020

My Spinal Fusion Surgery

​“You never know how strong you are until being strong is your only choice.” ― Bob Marley

On the ​thirteenth ​of June, 2019, I was ​fifteen ​years ​old. My birthday was in two weeks,

and my birthday gift happened to be Spinal Fusion surgery.​ Although, the reality of it was, I was

going to be carrying a lot more than just surgery on my shoulders. This event made me fight; the

surgery made me fight for myself, for my reason to exist in this life. If I had known then what I

know now, I still believe I would have done exactly the same. While this happened to be the

most excruciating experience of my life, it is also in part, the reason I am who I am today. Even

though having my Spinal Fusion Surgery was traumatic, it taught me that I was stronger than I

gave myself credit for. It taught me that when it comes down to hardships, ​I will​ fight more than

I ​could ever expect ​myself ​to or possibly thought ​myself ​capable of.

The first day I woke up with back pain, it felt as if my muscles were twisted in a place, I

could not​ crack it. I just thought I had done something the night before or during my sleep. ​I

always think, "What did I do?", but what if it ​was not​ something ​I ​did, something ​I could not

control? After almost a month of complaining of back pains and asking my dad to crack my

back, I started to realize, this ​is not​ normal. My dad had ​began ​to get worried and asked me to

turn around with my arms straight down at my sides. When he noticed that my one arm was

laying against my side, and the other was ​two, three​, inches away from my side, we knew to
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make a doctor's appointment. This moment never felt surreal until sitting in the waiting room the

day of surgery.

During the time of my appointment, after a CT scan, it was discovered that in less than

nine ​months my scoliosis had progressed from a sixteen-degree curve to a ​fifty-two-​degree

curve. It had been previously thought that it was unlikely to progress at all since both my parents

have similar, minor cases. After my appointment, I knew this not to be my situation. We were

informed of my options, surgery, or curve continuation. Surgery was scheduled for late August

or the beginning of September, pending the surgeon’s calendar. My doctor explained to us that

because my growth plates have been closed for over ​three ​years, bracing was no longer an option

for me. The pain had become unbearable. ​I was exhausted, and nothing I did helped.​ I ​did not

remember how not being in paint felt. Due to my pain level and difficulty keeping sustenance

down​,​ another appointment was made and more X-rays were ordered. In my Xrays, it showed

multiple ribs pushing into my stomach due to the curvature. In less than ​three ​months, my

curvature had progressed from a ​fifty-two-​degree thoracic to a ​sixty-two-​degree thoracic and

thirty-five​-degree lumbar. As the curvature progressed, it got to a point where I could not keep

food or water down. After multiple days of profuse vomiting, the decision was made to move my

surgery date from the end of August to two weeks prior to my birthday in June. ​At that point,

there was nothing that would make me feel better​, I was depleted, angry, overall so sick and tired

of being in misery ceaselessly. Surgery was exciting for me at that point because it was a light at

the end of a painful tunnel.

The night before my surgery, my closet friends slept over. One came to the hospital with

my family and I in the early morning. We left at ​five-fifteen​ in the morning to get to Phoenix

Children's Hospital; my surgery was scheduled for ​eight ​in the morning. About ​two ​hours prior
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to surgery, my boyfriend Tanner, my parents, my best friend Adriana, and I sat waiting in

anticipation to hear my name called by a nurse. My heart was racing, I ​did not​ know how to feel

or think, I sat there for ​fifteen ​minutes counting the tiles of the floor, how many windows and

lights there were (​two​ big windows thats looks like ​four​, followed by ​six ​or ​eight ​lights), and

how many people were waiting in the waiting room (​fourteen​ people, approximately three

families?); before my boyfriend reached out and touched my hand, giving me the reassurance I

needed. I put my head on Adriana’s shoulder and held Tanner's hand until we heard, “Mia

Jones”. My parents and I followed the nurse back to be put in one of the first rooms when turning

the corner in that hallway. I watched my feet and how I stepped down onto the tiles of the floor,

my mind was blank.

After they pre-medicated and sedated me, all I remember is waking up post-surgery in

my hospital room. My surgery was almost ​three ​hours and the only hurdle was the unexpected

Arthritis they found throughout my back and spine. I have been informed, by my family, that I

immediately asked for Adriana, my best friend, and that my family cycled in and out one at a

time to see me as I came around. I had a Dilaudid button to push when needed, but each time I

depressed it I became immediately nauseous, ​and would be flooded with minimal relief for

twenty minutes before​ violently throwing up. I was in agony, my body felt like a stranger, my

legs were numb, my head was as heavy as a bowling ball, and my back felt stiff and

sensationless, almost as if my spine was paralyzed. I felt like a newborn, having to start all over

again. I had foreign objects in my back now, and that was never going to change.

twenty-two​-inches of titanium and around ​fifty ​screws placed in my spine was hard to adjust to.

My sense of gravity was off; I had to relearn to walk, my neck was too weak to pick up my head,

I ​could not​ shower myself, or stand up to shower. I felt powerless, all the hard work I had put in
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for my education, my body, my mind; all of it suddenly gone. I had picked myself up from what

I thought was my rock bottom, ending in utter disbelief of how bottomless a mind can truly be.

In the night, I had vivid and horrific night terrors. I saw myself taking my own life, the

dreams felt so real, yet so distant in my mind, as if it was my subconscious trying to torment me.

My mind was battling with my body. The details of this specific dream are graphic and

disturbing, so much so that I contemplated doing what I thought my mind wanted me to do. My

dad sat at my bedside all night long, he explained to me that I would drift off mid-conversation,

in the second of a bink I was awake, not knowing who I was, where I was, or what had

happened. My dream felt as if I was stuck in time, in the future, or maybe a past life? While I

thought those dreams lasted months or years at a time; in reality, they only lasted ​one to five

seconds. For about ​six ​months, I felt my life pass by, hopelessly waiting for a miracle. There ​was

not​ one, and I ​should not​ have expected one. I always thought, “​This​ could never happen to me”,

until it did, and I ​could not ​do anything to stop it. This was my ​war. It​ was challenging, lengthy,

and depleting, but I won; I ​did not​ lose to myself, and I ​did not​ lose my life. After months of

being numb to the emotions surfacing within me, I exploded, and I asked for help. I had dropped

twenty-five​ pounds and I started to wilt away. I turned to therapy, which did shift to

antidepressants. Within a month with the help of a new puppy, some medication, and the support

of my family I felt myself gradually reappear. It was slow, and ​I am​ still working on it to this

day. I gained back my​ twenty-five ​pounds, started working out to regain my physical strength,

and graduated early from high school!

By my sixteenth birthday in 2019, I was still in major recovery. ​Once I battled through

the depression, rage, unworthy feeling of myself, and overall numbness to life itself, I did

something for me. My parents took me to get a tattoo, one dedicated to my accomplishments, my
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journey, and my fight. I got a Bob Marley quote stating, “You never know how strong you are

until being strong is your only choice”, followed by my favorite flower (sunflower) and a

scoliosis spine as the flowers’ stem. I am not ashamed of my surgery, or anything that happened

during that time. I am not apologetic to those who do not agree with my decisions and coping

mechanisms. I went through a significant and invasive surgery, I pushed through mental health

issues, and I worked extremely hard for my life, for my education, and for myself. I ​did not​ think

I was going to be able to do it for the longest time, but I did. Before this happened I​ did not​ know

who I truly was, and I thought I never would. My mind was always going to forsake my

emotions; I ruined things for myself because I ​did not​ know what I was capable of. My war

consisted of uncertainty, devastation, discomfort, repercussions, and losing to win. I still struggle

and everyday I seem to face a new challenge, but ​that is​ what keeps me on my toes. My initial

battle may be over, but everyday is a fight. Every day I wake up and choose life. I choose to get

stronger, I choose to continue to heal, I choose to continue to fight. Every day I choose to win.

ORIGINAL DOCUMENT:

Essay 1 MAJOR ESSAY: Final Draft MEMOIR, Mia Jones