After three months of slow but solid recovery (after my first surgery in January 2004), the low back pain episodes started up again. I tried to ignore it, pretending I felt better, well enough to snowboard — just a little — that winter, while the last bits of rideable terrain stayed through March. I loved snowboarding. Northern California is beautiful; Tahoe winter and snow can stick around for months. But anything I did, like vacuuming the living room, sent me straight back to the Green Monster (see post: First six weeks on my back) for three days at a time.

Eventually the episodes got worse, brought on by any activity of any kind, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I was more than unhappy. I didn’t take anything for the pain. All it did was make me sick.

But I was a stoic Yankee. I could tough it out.

I was back at work in mid-April (now four months post-op) and I remember having a conversation with a work friend in a small meeting room when a series of shooting pains ripped into my left leg. The impact — that feeling — was indescribable. My face was screwed up in pain. My friend looked at me and said, “We’ve got to get you out of here.”

Generally, when I get hurt, I handle the pain by absorbing it. Just taking it in. Having been through so much, I am used to it. My pain doesn’t instantaneously make me burst into tears. But back in Dr. Bridges’s office, I had a mini-breakdown. I started to cry. “I can’t do this anymore,” my voice choked as my tears flowed. I felt hopeless and overwhelmed.

Dr. Bridges ordered an MRI. The films showed decreased disc space at both L4-5 and L5-S1 but no new issues. She referred me to a specialist and I made the appointment right away. I was to meet Dr. Lawrence Montgomery*, a well-known neurosurgeon specializing in brain and spinal surgery.

I thought the surgery had helped, but it just got worse.

*Doctor names changed for privacy.