It’s 6am. Of course I can’t sleep. They have just wheeled Nick down for surgery. But I’m not there. I hope I don’t later regret choosing sleep over spending 10 minutes holding his hand before this massive endeavor.
One of the surgeons called me late last night. Things just got a lot more “real.”
They are doing a massive rammenectomy from his t12 to his sacrum and adding a metal rod.
Permanently.
Basically this will run from his lower ribs to the bottom of his vertebrae. I guess I had a rosy picture of repairing the L4 and L5, maybe fusing them together, slapping some glue in there or whatever, and calling it good. No. This is some serious shit.
Of course, my concern with Nicks future mobility is number 1. If you’ve spent any time with him you know that the dude NEVER stops. And to not be able to play extremely hard means it’s a life not worth living for him.
When I addressed his spinal mobility with the doc, his response scared me even more. “The rod will definitely limit his mobility, but not as severely as the trauma to his lower extremities. Nick has some of the worst damage I’ve seen.”
He will be in surgery for about 12 hours today. Maybe longer if they cannot access part of his broken L5 from his back. In that case they will go in from the front. Hopefully his innards look good and they can close his abdomen back up too, but they said it’s only a small chance. They are also flushing his leg wounds again in an attempt to remove more of the grass and dirt that grounded in there from the impact. He said it’s a “dirty dirty wound.”
Although I’m trying desperately to grasp onto any and everything positive, I’m very very scared. Especially after this conversation last night. Nick has his brain function in tact, and oh my GOD we are so lucky to have him alive, but I’m worried that he won’t feel the same way.
6am Day 3- back surgery
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