Sparkling Escapades Abroad with the Fairy Bra Mother

So, on November 12th I had a posterior fusion done from the back of my neck—levels C3–7—up in Crookston, MN. The plan was for a quick stay, maybe one or two days. But the morning of the 14th came with a fever of 100.6… and it just kept climbing. By the end of the day I was at 103.3, and no one could find a reason for it.

Just like in 2023, the nurses were incredible. My favorite nurse, Laura, was back and I had her several days. On the others, I had Danielle or her identical twin sister, Dana—both of whom had also cared for me last year. Laura is fire and tenacity wrapped into one—she gets things DONE and is not afraid to go toe-to-toe with a doctor. My night nurse, Liz, was her own brand of wonderful.

Because I couldn’t turn my head, I’d told the nurses I wished they would announce themselves when they came in and when they left so I didn’t get startled. Well… Liz would swing open the door and leap in with “LIZ IS HERE!” Meanwhile, quiet little Laura would sneak in, walk to my bedside, and then stomp her feet just to make me jump. Those two kept me on my toes—even when the fever had me freezing and they kept yanking my blankets off.

One night Liz told me if my temp hit 103 again she was putting ice packs in my armpits. I was terrified… but thankfully she stuck to ice-cold washcloths for my head. I was on Zosyn IV antibiotics every three hours around the clock, which was honestly a pain. But I can’t say enough good about that hospital. Every single person—from reception to housekeeping to the anesthesiologist to the surgical team—made me feel like a human being, not a number. The anesthesiologist even came by one day just to chat!

And I have to give Liz credit. Of course every “accident” happened on her shift, and the worst night I had THREE major ones in two hours—thanks to stool softeners + antibiotics + a very angry digestive system. She was kind, patient, and didn’t make me feel embarrassed for even a second. She even joked later that we needed to get the room smelling better before my husband arrived so he wouldn’t know what we’d been through!

I was finally discharged on the 18th, though I didn’t get to say goodbye to Liz or Laura. Last year, Laura wasn’t around when they took me downstairs after surgery, but she actually tracked me down to give Sean and me both a hug. So yes—I was sad to leave, but also so ready to head home and start healing.

For the next six weeks: no bending, lifting, or twisting, and the neck brace stays on 24/7 except for when I’m lying down or in the recliner. And then I’ll have to wear it in any car or airplane for six months. The drive home was eight hours, and we stopped every hour so I could walk with my walker or sit in the car and loosen the brace to get the pain under control. By 5 pm my pain was skyrocketing, so we stopped north of the Cities for the night. I needed to lie flat so badly. The next day we finished the drive, and by the time we got home I was nearly beside myself with pain.

The next day was my birthday, and it actually went okay… but by evening the pain was creeping out of control again. The incision was oozing a ton, and I barely slept that night. The next morning, after the friends who do my every-other-week cleaning left, Sean checked my back again and when I stood up, the drainage ran straight down. He didn’t like how it looked—and honestly, neither did I—so he said we needed to go in. I told him to choose the hospital because I’ve had so many rough experiences, and I just didn’t know. He chose Cresco, IA.

By the time they wheeled me in, I wasn’t feeling well at all. The doctor was about to head upstairs but decided to check my incision first. He took off the brace and the fluid just poured out—and it smelled terrible. That’s when everything shifted into high gear. Two IVs, CT scan, X-ray, IV antibiotics, morphine, ketamine (never again), and Dilaudid. They wouldn’t even let me move myself; it took a whole team to transfer me each time, along with someone holding my neck steady.

After the scans, the doctor quietly told Sean there were pockets of fluid and gas bubbles near my spine. They tried ketamine and told me I wouldn’t remember anything. I remember EVERYTHING. I kept saying “I don’t like it, I don’t like it,” and I felt like I was burning up. Sean said he could feel the heat radiating off me without touching me. I could feel my hands, my feet, and the spot he was rubbing on my arm—but nothing else.

Then came the question: where to transfer me? The nearest qualifying hospitals were La Crosse or Rochester. La Crosse refused to take me. Insurance would only cover the nearest hospital with the right facilities, so anything farther became a problem. A fixed-wing plane was an option, but again—insurance. Same with helicopter and ambulance. The only other choice was signing out AMA and taking a chance with Mayo Clinic.

So we signed out and went straight to Mayo. Sean called our deacon and asked for prayers, and the church put it on the group chat. I asked for prayers on Facebook too. We got to Mayo around 5:30 pm and sat in the waiting room until about 8.

I was nervous because I haven’t always had the best experiences with Mayo’s ER. But they ran tests and by 2 am they decided to admit me. (The spine docs were rough, but everyone else was excellent.) I didn’t actually get to my room until 3:45 am, but the night nurse was amazing.

Saturday and Sunday I mostly rested. Monday they took me for another CT and aspirated one of the fluid pockets, which turned out to be dark red blood. By Tuesday afternoon I could sit in the recliner, though I had a terrible headache that felt like a spinal headache. Wednesday the medical team came in last, and the doctor who had followed me since admission told me she wasn’t sure I was going to make it when I first arrived—my color was gray and I was in so much pain I barely moved. By Wednesday, my color was back, and I was talking more.

I did start having panic attacks in the hospital—something new for me. One hit me during supper one evening. Before I even understood what was happening, I was on my feet, walking in circles, hitting the call button and cranking the cold air up. It took about 30 minutes to calm down.

But honestly… this was one of the BEST stays I’ve ever had at Mayo. Nurses and PCAs would come into my room just to visit. They were kind, compassionate, and warm. They had me on two IV antibiotics—one every 8 hours and another every 12.

Since coming home, I’ve mostly been sleeping like crazy. It feels like every two hours I’m dozing off again. Last night I slept from 8:30 pm to 1:30 am, stayed awake until 4:30, then slept until 11:30. No nap today, but definitely more pain—which tells me healing is happening slowly but surely.

I appreciate every prayer that has been prayed over me, and every person who has checked in. It means the world to me.