As I finished my regular ski-machine workout one Monday morning, I noticed a slight ache in my lower back. I considered it a minor distraction and pushed on with my week. Driving home Friday night, I felt a twinge radiating from my hip down my left leg. This, too, I dismissed, but by Sunday morning the pain was so intense my husband, Jim, rushed me to the emergency room.
The X-rays showed only slight degenerative changes, and I was prescribed muscle relaxers and painkillers and told to see my regular physician. The next day, our family physician ordered magnetic resonance images (MRIs) and set up an appointment with a neurologist. It was in the neurologist's examining room that I first heard the words "transverse myelitis" [a neurologic disorder caused by inflammation of the spinal cord]. I learned that damage to the myelin coating that covers the nerves in the spinal cord was causing my symptoms.
Armed with more painkillers, advice to get plenty of rest, and a follow-up appointment for the next week, we drove home. Over the next few days, my legs became weaker and more rigid; then one night, I felt excruciating electric shocks radiating down the length of my legs. The next morning, I was screaming in pain as I attempted to stand. Jim carried me to the car with the help of a strong neighbor, and we met my neurologist at the hospital.
After some preliminary tests, I was transferred to a medical center that specializes in transverse myelitis. While there, I had numerous MRIs, an angiogram, and a lumbar puncture. I was on morphine and needed an aide to help with the most basic personal care; my legs and hips had no feeling or muscle strength. The steroids I took to reduce inflammation caused severe headaches, and I couldn't sleep.
The television provided a welcome distraction, and I found myself tuning into a dance competition. As I watched one couple dance, I glimpsed the woman's strong legs beneath her swirling gown and fought back tears. Jim and I had taken dancing lessons several years ago, and although we never had an award-winning style, we'd always enjoyed dancing together. I mourned my leg muscles, weak from lack of use.
Two weeks later, I was transferred to a rehabilitation center, where I did exercises to retrain my legs how to walk. As my strength returned, my world slowly began to expand again. I took a trip to downtown Seattle to learn how to navigate busy streets in my wheelchair. Later, Jim helped me learn how to use the handicapped-access lift chair at the local pool.
Finally, after a month, I was sent home where I resumed daily floor and pool exercises. Eventually, I transitioned from the chair to a walker—and set a new goal. I wanted to walk with a cane for my son's college graduation. Six months later, I traveled to Ohio with only a cane to watch our son receive his diploma.
In the following months, my progress hit a plateau as I was told it would, but I was strong enough to take a weekend trip to Victoria, BC. Jim and I took a walk in Beacon Hill Park. As we admired the manicured gardens, we heard music. We followed the sound and came upon a free outdoor concert. Accompanied by a full orchestra, a singer channeled the voice of Louis Armstrong. The lyrics "I see trees of green, red roses too. I see them bloom for me and you..." reminded me of romantic times early in our marriage.
Jim took my cane and propped it carefully against a tree. As he pulled me close and I leaned on his shoulder, our feet slowly traced the familiar dance steps. "And I think to myself, what a wonderful world." Indeed, I thought.
Colette Hughes, a retired executive at Automated Data Processing, lives in Augusta, GA, with her husband, Jim. She volunteers, travels, and practices tai chi and yoga to help with ongoing symptoms such as poor balance and fatigue.
