It’s been a long eight months.
I checked my ride log today. October 27, 2025, that was the last time I got on my mountain bike.
That was the day the pain officially won.
It wasn’t just discomfort anymore. It was the kind of pain that stops your life in its tracks. The kind that takes your routine, your identity, your outlet, and shelves it.
That was also the day I started calling doctors. Go ahead, do the math.
October. November. December. January. February. March. April.
Six months. Six months of no callbacks. No treatment plans. No real answers. No help.
Just waiting… while things got worse.
Finally, near the end of February, I found a doctor willing to see me for a surgical consult. We met on March 17.
That day, I was told something I hadn’t heard in a long time:
“We can fix this.”
For the first time in months, I had hope.
The plan? A discectomy with artificial disc replacement at C5-6 and C6-7, plus a foraminotomy to relieve the nerve compression that’s been wreaking havoc on my body.
It sounded like a path back. Then came the silence again.
Days turned into weeks. My symptoms worsened. Life got smaller.
After multiple calls and messages, I finally heard back on April 3. I was told I’d be scheduled soon. “Sooner rather than later.”
No urgency. No concern. Just… words. A week and a half later, surgery was scheduled:
May 4th. “May the 4th be with you.”
Then I checked the portal. And everything changed.
The surgical notes didn’t match what I was told in person.
Not even close.
So I called… again.
That’s when I got the real plan.
No disc replacement. Now it’s a microdiscectomy with fusion.
After consulting with a neurosurgeon, they decided that due to my age and the arthritis in my spine, artificial discs weren’t an option.
Instead, they’ll fuse C5-6 and C6-7 with a metal plate.
Translation? Permanent loss of mobility in my neck.
When I pushed back, because yeah, I’m not exactly thrilled about voluntarily giving up range of motion… I got answers that didn’t exactly inspire confidence.
Looking up? Limited.
Pain relief? Not guaranteed.
That shoulder pain? Might be permanent nerve damage.
The numbness in my arm and hand? It should go away… eventually.
“Should” is doing a lot of heavy lifting there. So now I’m sitting here trying to process it all.
Permanent damage… after months of being ignored.
And the question that keeps creeping in:
Who’s responsible for that? The system that didn’t call back? The doctors who didn’t prioritize it? Or is this just one of those things we’re supposed to shrug off as “life”?
And then there’s the bigger hit, the one that really sticks. What does life look like after this?
Mountain biking… maybe less, maybe never the same.
Jiu-jitsu? Done. No debate. Anything that risks pressure on my neck? Off the table.
So what exactly am I agreeing to here?
A fix? Or a compromise?
Because that’s what nobody really prepares you for.
Sometimes it’s not about getting your old life back.
Sometimes it’s about negotiating with a new one you didn’t ask for.
Surgery is set for May 4th.
I’ve got one more opinion lined up on April 27. Maybe there’s another option. Maybe there’s not. Regardless, running out of time!
But after eight months of being overlooked, delayed, and redirected, it’s hard not to wonder… Am I making the best decision?
Or just the only one left?
Hard Lessons & Honest Thoughts 