Imagine: October–December 2023

So. We’re back home. The sun, gin tonics, and sea water therapy are over.

What stayed with me instead was pain — and the very strong feeling that something was not right.

On Monday morning, I went to see my GP. That visit marked the beginning of my first long-term sick leave. He suspected a herniated disc and told me to look for a neurologist. This was already beyond what a GP should be dealing with. He also prescribed painkillers — mostly so I could survive daily life while trying to find a specialist.

Because finding a good neurologist here is… complicated. At times, it really feels like searching for water in a desert.

The first painkillers helped very little. So I went back and asked for something stronger.

When “Worse” Suddenly Gets Much Worse

About four days later, things escalated. Out of nowhere, my left leg became partially numb. Walking stopped being something I could do naturally. The pain was strong enough that I needed a walking stick — even for short distances.

The grocery store is about 200 metres from my home. Normally, the whole trip takes around 15 minutes. That day, it took almost an hour. It took me close to 20 minutes just to get there. Inside the shop, I moved extremely slowly, stopping often because I had to breathe through the pain. Then came the way back home — which felt endless.

The Neurologist Search Continues

The situation wasn’t improving. The only neurologist available through my clinic had the first free appointment in January — almost three months away. This was early October, and I was already on strong medication, barely sleeping, and clearly getting worse.

So I went private. At that point, paying for the visit felt less painful than waiting.

Finally: A Neurologist

When I finally got to the appointment, she told me straight away that I would need an MRI. Yes, there was already an MRI from the hospital in Turkey — but she wasn’t satisfied with it. She also didn’t like how I was walking, the fact that I needed a stick, or how restricted my movement had become.

After a full examination, she prescribed even stronger medication and some additional treatments, and sent me to wait for an MRI appointment.

Waiting for an MRI

Getting an MRI is its own challenge. The machines are expensive, which means long waiting lists. It took almost a month until I finally had the scan.

That month followed a very predictable pattern. Every day, I was under the influence of very strong medication — medication that should have helped within a week. It didn’t. I was in constant pain. Some of it was supposed to help me sleep. It didn’t.

If anything, the pain felt like it was growing day by day. Nights were especially hard. Calling them nightmares doesn’t quite work — nightmares usually end when you wake up. This didn’t. It continued even when I was awake.

My parents watched me struggle, knowing they couldn’t really help. That was difficult for them — and for me. Around that time, I started relying heavily on humour as a defence mechanism. Laughing at the situation felt like the only way to keep myself together.

MRI Results Day

When the day of the MRI finally arrived, I felt relief — at least something was moving forward.

The following day, I went back to the neurologist. She uploaded the MRI results, and I immediately noticed a change in her facial expression. Then she turned the screen towards me. Even without any medical background, I could see that something was very wrong.

At first, she thought there might be a tumour on my spine. Then she realised what was actually happening: the disc wasn’t just herniated — it had essentially broken. The fluid that normally keeps the disc flexible had leaked out and formed a kind of sac.

Her conclusion was very clear. This was a case for spine surgery.

Neurosurgeon, Hospital, Waiting Again

She referred me to a neurosurgeon, and I was lucky enough to get an appointment the next day. He reviewed the MRI and confirmed everything. He then gave me a number to call — the hospital where he worked as a chief surgeon — and told me to make an appointment there.

It took me almost three days just to get through on the phone. The next available appointment was another month away.

I went there at the beginning of December. By then, I was already in my third month of constant pain. Everything was prepared quickly, and I was told that my surgery would take place on 23 January 2024. That meant another month and a half of waiting.

By that point, I was on very strong painkillers, including opiates. Sleep was rare. Fear, exhaustion, and anxiety slowly became part of everyday life.

To Be Continued

But something did change during that time. Because of one very special person ❤️

And that’s what I’ll talk about in Part 3.