Back Surgery vs. Giving Birth: A New Perspective on Pain

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She didn’t need to ask for details; every parent knows the drill.

“Who’s your surgeon?” she inquired. “Dr. Collins did my knees last year, but Sarah really liked Dr. Thompson for her shoulder repair.”

“Dr. Love,” I replied, tearing into my fried chicken. “I’ve heard he’s quite generous with the painkillers.” She raised an eyebrow, taking mental notes.

And just like that, I was welcomed into a new club: The Old and Worn Out. Conversations that used to revolve around cribs and diapers had now transitioned into discussions about kidney stones and unwanted facial hair. One by one, we’ve transformed from vibrant women of childbearing age into those whose medicine cabinets are stocked with remedies for this and treatments for that.

Of course, the reality hit me hard when I checked into the hospital for my surgery. As I donned the gown, the unmistakable scents of industrial detergent mixed with hints of stale vomit and fear flooded my senses, taking me back to the memories of delivering my three children. The delivery itself was not something I wished to relive, but the hospital stay had its perks—warm cookies served daily, a steady stream of visitors bearing flowers and gifts, and a sisterhood of women sharing a similar experience.

Back surgery patients, however, are not treated to warm cookies. Instead, we find ourselves in the hospital’s “Tower of Misery,” sharing space with grumpy old men who don’t bother to close their doors while sitting shirtless in their tighty-whities. This was a whole new level of indifference, and my eyes were ready to bleed.

Amid the endless sounds of hacking coughs and beeping machinery, my fellow patients and I shuffled down the hall, grimacing as we maneuvered our IV poles as if parting a sea. The harsh fluorescent lights turned us into a zombie-like parade of the elderly and infirm, with no regard for the cool drafts brushing our bare skin. Our mantra became: “They’ve seen worse.”

In contrast, maternity patients are treated like royalty. Anything I desired was presented with a pink or blue bow. This time, I found myself in a heated argument with food services because they insisted on bringing me just one meal at a time. “But I’m an emotional eater!” I pleaded with the brusque woman on the other end of the line before she hung up on me.

No photographers came by to capture my “special moments”—this was an experience I wanted to erase from my memory as quickly as possible. No gifts, only nurses entering with medications and asking why I was crying.

Finally, I reached my breaking point.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

My night nurse appeared out of nowhere, blocking my path.

“Please! I have friends down there! They’ll remember me!”

“Ma’am, we’ve had many first-timers. The maternity wing is exclusively for women who’ve just given birth.”

“No, you don’t understand! I don’t belong here! I’m not ready for this!”

“Oh, you’ll be just fine, sweetie!” she chirped, patting my shoulder and guiding me back to my bed. “Now lie down, roll over, and let’s see if you can feel anything yet.”

As I was wheeled out after being discharged, clutching my prescriptions and a suitcase, an odd sense of relief washed over me.

“How are you doing, dear?” my mother-in-law asked as I transitioned from the wheelchair to the car.

“Well, my vagina isn’t in tatters, and I’ll be sleeping a full eight hours tonight.”

She nodded understandingly as we drove away because sometimes, there’s a beautiful view from the other side of the mountain.

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Summary

In this humorous and relatable piece, Emily Grant compares the experience of back surgery to giving birth, highlighting the contrasting treatments and emotional responses. While maternity patients receive royal treatment, those undergoing back surgery find themselves in a more austere environment. Ultimately, the piece reflects on the shared experiences of women as they navigate the challenges of health and motherhood.

Keyphrase: Back Surgery vs. Giving Birth

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