I’ve had over 8 serious medical operations since 2023

During my three-year hiatus from my column, I endured the following:

A cervical spine disk replacement, a sacroiliac (SI) joint fusion, a hip fracture, a second SI joint fusion (repair of the faulty first), a lower leg nerve decompression surgery, a surgery to replace a disk in my lumbar spine and apply some screws and bolts, and another surgery two days later to put a cage around part of my lumbar spine and attempt the final SI fusion (on both sides this time) after all the other failed attempts. Oh, and a few months ago, I had two disks in my cervical spine replaced.

Bailey Anne Vincent, right, her husband, John LaBarbera, and Bailey’s youngest, Follin LaBarbera, “ham for the cam” before another operation. (Courtesy of Bailey Anne Vincent)

That’s not all, unfortunately. I also went to the hospital for a couple of bad biliary attacks (when gallstones block the bile ducts and cause spasms; normally, the issue is my liver). I also had one surgery to replace my gastric pacemaker with a new battery and another one to take out a few problematic cysts on my ovaries.

Since 2023 alone, I’ve had about eight serious medical operations.

All of the above is not counting CT myelograms, or feeding tube replacements, or a crappy discogram — not to mention more deep joint injections than I’ve tracked, a ruptured ovarian cyst, low-key lung infections (common in those of us with cystic fibrosis), sinus and throat infections, ear infections requiring treatment, some borderline skin cancer concerns, and another brutal round of COVID-19 that left me wheezing for months.

I’m annoyed at myself for even writing this. I don’t technically keep count of such technicalities, but I did for the sake of this opener. (Was it worth it?)

One of the worst parts is that I’m writing this column having recently gotten more bad news about my ovaries and liver, and though I’m not ready to share that yet, I promise I will once I know more.

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For now, all I know is that I never know enough about all the things I think I know enough about. I went into 2024 saying, “This will be the year of no surgeries!” — only for recent appointments to completely slap me across the face.

A silver lining is, of course, that it’s always better to know about complications than to walk around not knowing. And just as I was about to shift my focus to work and chase some of the creative freedoms I think I can control, I now recognize the need to race after whatever risks or problems could overtake me if I were none the wiser and attack them head-on.

Now all I really want are a couple of months of stasis (once I’ve done the racing and attacking, that is).

Navigating change and loss

The last year has been so deeply stressful and heartbreaking that I can’t help but wonder how much localized life stress has wreaked havoc on my person. Could a few months of drama-free peace and calm actually lead to healing? First I have to get there.

If I’m being honest — which is honestly hard to do when you’re used to concealing your feelings with alliterations that don’t illuminate much of anything — I’ve lost a lot since 2021.

Kids take photos like this one these days. (Photo by Follin LaBarbera)

My professional dance company, which gave me boundless purpose and reasons to literally bound around a room, went on what has turned out to be a yearlong hiatus because of operational and medical expenses (the former meaning the cost of a large company, but I guess it could be a double entendre, as well). I’ve also had two massive back-to-back back operations that required me not to move so that my bones could fuse properly. (That was after the two failed revisions, so the third time had to be the charm.)

My life has changed enormously as a mom, which I won’t go into for privacy reasons. However, I can say that going from homeschooling my children full time from the time they were young to having just one 15-year-old in the nest, who loves going to a giant public school, gives me the biggest whiplash.

I haven’t been alone since I was 18, and now I’m always alone.

Although I always have multiple artistic dishes cooking at the same time, I never know which stir-fry will properly catch fire and which will completely fizzle out.

Finally, I’ve lost almost unquantifiable amounts of autonomy over my own body.

I’m not writing this by blinking, à la the book and movie “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly,” so I shouldn’t utter such dramatic words. But in truth, I’ve been adjusting to suffering that I still feel uncomfortable describing concretely, because it feels so dang depressing.

It’s always better to know about complications than to walk around not knowing. But sometimes “was it worth it?” is a worthwhile question for all of us to ask.

Note: Cystic Fibrosis News Today is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Cystic Fibrosis News Today or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to cystic fibrosis.