Walking Away from Trauma, Finally

We knew he wasn’t paralyzed, but he couldn’t stand, couldn’t even control his hands or arms…

This one was hard. It was back in 2016, and it started with a few dizzy spells. My husband Charles had been feeling like his equilibrium or something was off. He didn’t think much of it at first, then one day I got a call. “I can’t drive home. I need you to pick me up.”?

Charles had been at work when he realized that he was too dizzy and disoriented to make the long commute home on his own. Fortunately, his co-workers, who were very supportive, watched over him until his mother could pick him up. She lived nearby, and I was an hour away, so we arranged to meet about halfway, right off the Parkway.

I was worried but hopeful. I knew we’d have get to the bottom of whatever this was now. We headed south, straight to our local emergency room. While there, he was poked, pricked and had all kinds of tests run, from CAT scans to MRIs to blood work. I knew one thing: This wasn’t just vertigo; it was definitely more.

Finding the cause

After some back and forth and a few extra tests and visits, we got word that the main cause seemed to be spinal stenosis, also known as a narrowing of the spine. That was a bit of a relief for us actually, because it was treatable and we had a plan of care. Surgery was recommended, and we decided that he should have it as soon as possible.

The plan was that he would have a same-day procedure as an outpatient, and then he would come home with a neck brace, which he would wear for two weeks post op.?

But things didn’t go as planned.?

Facing the unexpected

Shortly after surgery, we knew something was wrong. Charles couldn’t control his body. His hands and arms were moving, flailing a bit, but he couldn’t control them.

“Am I paralyzed?” He was looking around the room and at us, his mother and I, his face filled with pure panic.

“No, you can move,” I answered. “That’s a good sign. We’ll figure out what’s going on.” There were no answers yet, but we were cautioned to give it a day and see what happened when the anesthesia wore off.

Well, the next day, he wasn’t any better. He couldn’t even push the call button for himself to call the nurse to the room. So his mother and I took turns spending the night with him in the hospital. Eventually, we learned that he would have to go to an acute rehab facility to recover.

When Charles first arrived at the facility, he didn’t quite realize the challenges that were still ahead. The toughest day for him was his first day of physical therapy when he realized that he couldn’t stand up, that he couldn’t even support his weight. Somehow, in his mind, he thought that he was still able to walk. He was devastated, again.

Finding the positive through it all

It took almost six weeks of constant care and almost daily physical and occupational therapy, but Charles did show major improvement. And by the time he returned home, he was able to walk with the help of a walker (he also had a wheelchair), and he could write with some limitations. But he was better than where he’d started, and we had faith that he was going to be okay.?

Through all of this, I’ve learned to celebrate the small things and to be grateful for what we do have...

One thing is for sure, though. Through all of this, I’ve learned to celebrate the small things and to be grateful for what we do have: Charles survived the surgery, he wasn’t paralyzed, and he had learned to walk again, albeit with pain.?

And through it all, I’ve learned to find and recognize “grateful moments” within this trial. Moments like Charles being able to hold a pencil, being able to hold a utensil and feed himself again. I also remember one big milestone that gave me hope: when he was able to “walk” us—me and our four kids—to the elevator from his room. He would unlock his wheelchair and use his feet to steer him forward. His legs were getting stronger. That was a big deal.

Once he came home, he returned to a somewhat normal life, and he was even able to go back to work eventually.

Not normalizing trauma

I’ll admit, though; our lives have never been the same. We have learned to navigate our way into a new normal. Little by little, we’ve learned to push through it. There were definitely some drawbacks, such as his limited ability in the end. My husband moves at his own pace and can’t run; he lives with constant pain, and he takes a variety of meds just to keep it to a minimum; but we have found that new normal, together.?(He’s also recently found a local rehabilitation center with new methods that may finally free him from that pain. There's always hope.)

It was a pretty stressful time for me at home with the kids, trying to be strong for everyone, and it sometimes took its toll. I don’t think I’ve ever felt quite as tired as I did back then. The rehab facility was a half hour south from home, so I was juggling Charles’ schedule—I visited every day—along with my work schedule (including a one-hour north commute) and getting home for the kids. But we also learned to lean on each other.?

Still, I can’t ignore the trauma that we endured, and I don’t think that anybody should. So, as I think about all that we’ve been through, I realize that trauma is real. And, unfortunately, sometimes we get to the point where we begin to normalize it, to accept it. That’s not good for anyone.?

Getting help—and understanding?

What we can do, though, is to acknowledge the trauma and learn to deal with it as best we can. Maybe that’s through yoga or meditation or finding a support group, or through a combination of all of them. For Charles and I, that meant going to counseling within a year of the surgery, just to work through things, both separately and together. That made a world of difference. Therapy is not talked about enough, but it can do wonders, if you give it a chance.

And for me on my own, it also meant paying special attention to self-care. I learned to find pieces of joy in “little things,” like getting a manicure or pedicure, getting together with friends, even taking a soothing bath. I had to learn how to function within this new normal space. And I’m still learning, to this day.

So, whatever unique challenges you may be facing, know that there is a way through it, if you take time to also care for yourself. Seek out the resources that will support you, whether it’s through counseling, exercise or finding a group of people who understand. It is all worth it in the end.