A Spine Apart - Chris' Recovery

I met my husband, Chris, when he was 16.  I was immediately charmed by his awkward haircut and sweet, gravelly laugh. When we met he'd been in pain for 3 years, undergoing every test except the one he needed to find the source. 

At a routine checkup in school it was discovered that he had developed severe scoliosis in less than a year. Scoliosis is an unnatural curvature and twisting of the spine, often without a known cause. Except in this case there was. Chris's spine had essentially warped itself to accomodate an osteoid osteoma, a benign tumor. Left unchecked it would have created more problems over time. He had to have surgery to remove it and have vertebrae fused using bone from his hip. Unfortunately, because it wasn't caught 3 years earlier, it left behind a legacy of pain.

After surgery, Chris wore a back brace for the next year from his neck to his hips.

I remember that year very clearly. We couldn't properly hug because of the metal and plastic in the way. When I would lean up to kiss him my chin would bump on the hard, silvery, brace against neck. When I wrapped my arms around him to say goodbye, they wrapped around the unforgiving plastic that kept his spine in place.

Even when the brace came off and the scars healed, Chris's back pain has been in the background of our entire lives together, a persistent background noise that sometimes gets too loud to ignore.

We've been together for 22 years now and we have a beautiful, energetic, 17 month old daughter. Chris adores her and she adores him. She thinks he's the funniest person in the world, her little face lighting up every time he comes into the room or walks through the door at night. She loves to sit on his lap and tell him all about her day in the darling babble of toddlers, punctuated with "wow!" and "yeah!" and "dada!" The joy on his face when he's with her is pure and sweet and unconditional. But he's been unable to play with her or help out the way he wants to because of his back. He can't stand for very long or hold her without support. Simple household tasks like vacuuming or cleaning bottles are painful and exhausting.





Then 2 months ago it somehow got worse. I'm not sure we thought it could but it did. He began being unable to drive or work some days, pushing through others and somehow managing to get up when most of us would be bedridden. We thought it might even out. It didn't. It continued to go from bad to worse. He had a series of MRI's done and the following was discovered:

He has 17 herniated disks from the scoliosis, all along his back, with the most compression in the lower spine. It causes excruciating pain along his left side.

His spine has osteoarthritis, which is a degenerative wearing of the joints and cartilage. It's not uncommon, but it's painful and compounds the herniated disks.

Chris needs extensive, long term, physical therapy to help address the current deterioriation as well as strengthen his spine so he can better manage what is going to be a lifetime of pain and ongoing disability. He's going to need to use a cane for support. He's going to need specialists and weekly treatments.

Insurance isn't going to cover the ongoing issues with his spine, the MRI's, or all of the costs associated with Chris's care. So we're asking for help. He wants to be able to play with his daughter again without becoming incapacitated for days after. He wants to be able to manage his disability and pain the way he used to, to be stronger and there for his family.

We're starting physical therapy immediately so we need help as soon as people are able to give it. The sooner we can address the herniated disks and degeneration the sooner Chris can get back to a place where he's stronger and healthier. 

Asking for help is hard. We've been independently managing this as best we could for so long, it's difficult to admit that we can't do it on our own anymore. It would mean so much to us to have the ability to get him the help he really needs so he can be the partner and dad he wants to be. 

And it would mean the world to me, his wife  to be able to help him. I wish I could take the pain away, I see it on his face every day. He's my best friend and the most amazing father and partner. Not being able to do more than offer comforting words hurts my heart. 

Thank you.