So, my dad had his surgery. The procedure is called an anterior cervical discectomy and fusion and apparently it went beautifully. I am finally breathing again and not quite the anxious walking disaster I was a few days ago. The surgeon told Judy that everything looked good, and that they were able to clear out some bone spurs and basically, there IS hope for recovery. There’s always the risk of further injury during an ACDF, but luckily there’s no sign of that now. He already has some feeling back and is in pain, which in this case, is a happy thing. His throat hurts like a bitch (they had to move his esophagus to the side in order to perform the procedure) and he’s not a fan of anesthesia, but he already sounds more hopeful and positive than he has in weeks. Time will tell as far as what he actually regains and it will be a long, slow process but any improvement is welcome.
They called me up to let me know he is being moved to a rehab facility in Vallejo. The same one where he was 28 years ago when he first broke his neck. Again, this is a good thing: he is ready to be up and about instead of just lying in bed.
Dad: “So, you remember how to get there, right? The place in Vallejo?”
Dad: “You know, you’ve been there a bunch of times.”
Me: “Yeah, Dad, 28 years ago. I am a little fuzzy on exactly where it is, seeing as how I was four and Mom would have me sleep on the way there since it was a long drive. So, I might consult Mapquest instead of relying on my memory.”
You might think this lack of logical reasoning means my dad is losing it or is doped up and unaware of what he’s actually saying, but I can assure you, this is him. Back to normal.