Chapter 6: Post-Accident
- Mark Christiansen (as told to Katy)
- Mar 28, 2017
- 5 min read
After the accident, my father stayed with me day and night for the first two weeks I was in the hospital. He would take a few hours of rest in a little room they had nearby when I occasionally managed to sleep. It wasn’t easy to do in the Stryker Frame. The canvas was stretched between the steel tubing with straps that constantly loosened. The nurses had to re-tie the knots often to keep the canvas taut and prevent it from bunching under my skin, which can cause pressure sores.
A bare leather strap was also stretched between the tubes and acted as my pillow. The strap held my head firmly in position against the traction and caused a pressure sore on my forehead after only two days. There were weights that hung from screws in my head that provided constant pressure and pulled away from my shoulders. The frame spun me from my back to my stomach so the canvas and leather straps were often repositioned for those rotations. No doubt the Stryker frame would have been highly coveted by anyone looking to furnish a medieval torture chamber.
On Tuesday morning, 72 hours after my injury, Dr. Swindler came into my room. He was in his 50s, had dark graying hair, and a ruddy face. He smoked cigars. He looked at me with what felt like disdain and said, “Well hell Mark, I guess you’re not going to die so I’m going to have to operate on you.”
He had been waiting for me to die and seemed annoyed that I hadn’t. I’m not sure why my father wasn’t there in that moment, as he usually was. My mother later told me that the doctor had once commented that I was “disgustingly healthy.” Dr. Swindler remains the only person I’ve ever wished my injury upon.
A few hours later I was in the OR having my spine fused. I later learned that I was left face down in the Stryker frame during the operation. I didn’t have much pain for the first few days in the hospital. In fact, I really couldn’t feel anything at all. I do remember feeling like my arms were folded across my chest all the time, regardless of what position they were actually in (usually straight down).
After the surgery, I awoke early one morning with severe pain in my arms. I had been getting pain medication and I asked for more. I guess I had reached the limit and they told me they couldn't give me any. It was the first time since the accident that I cried. Most spinal cord injury victims suffer from “phantom pain.” (There’s no physical rationale for the pain, but it’s there and it can be extreme. Burning, cutting, stabbing and needle prick sensations are common.)
My dad asked me if I wanted a Priesthood blessing (administered by male Mormon Melchezidek Priesthood holders.) After anointing me with a few drops of sacred oil, he laid his hands on my head and prayed. As soon as the blessing was pronounced, I remember falling asleep almost immediately. When I woke up the next morning, the pain was gone. Never again did I suffer from phantom pain.
I stayed in Dee Memorial Hospital in Ogden for about four weeks and then transferred to LDS hospital in Salt Lake. One fortunate aspect of my injury was that it was “incomplete." That meant my spinal cord was not completely severed, just partially. It also meant that I had some ability to recover. I don’t remember the specifics, but I slowly regained some function in my arms and legs. I never recovered any fine motor skills in my hands and feet, but I was eventually able to move my arms some and lean forward and back with my core. With assistance I was also able to stand, bear weight and even take some steps.
I also regained some sensation. My face and head had normal sensation and the rest of my body gained some feeling too (generally decreasing from head to toes). I also regained my sexual function. I was able to get erections and ejaculate, which is unusual. My physical therapist told me recently that if the doctor had operated immediately instead of waiting three days she thinks I would have regained much more function than I did–possibly even the ability to walk. I had a blood clot on the inside of the sheath with bone fragments that was putting pressure on the injury. Had that pressure been alleviated quickly, she thinks it would have made a big difference. The more I’ve learned over the years, the more convinced I’ve become that Dr. Swindler knew he should have operated immediately and chose not to with hope and expectation that I would die quickly.
When I got to LDS Hospital, they put me in a circle bed, which was a huge improvement over the Stryker frame. It had a mattress so it was much more comfortable and it was also easier to rotate me from front to back. It could also be rotated vertically placing me in a standing position. They didn’t stand me up vertically very often and when they did, I often passed out from the blood rushing out of my head.
After about six months at LDS Hospital, I still believed my body would eventually recover. I remember one day showing an Orthopedic resident that I could move my toes a little bit.
He said, “Mark, I can’t believe it! We don’t know what’s going to happen or what kind of return you’ll get, but it’s certainly significant that you can move your toes!”
Not long after that, I met a little girl that was in the hospital to have a brain tumor removed. She was about 8 years old and she would come in my room all the time to have me read to her. She loved Dr. Seuss, and “The Cat in the Hat” was one of her favorites. I was face down in the circle bed one day and when I finished reading to her she said, “The doctor told my mommy that you’re never going to walk again.”
That night laying in bed I remember feeling so alone. That was the first time I believed that I wasn’t going to get better. It was the second time since my injury that I cried.
The Stryker Frame:
The first picture at the top of this page shows the Circle Bed Mark moved to when he was transferred to LDS Hospital. We don't have any photos of Mark in the Stryker Frame, but the two photos above give you an idea.
This blog post has some really interesting history about the bed: "These beds were a big patient dissatisfier and were really hated. As students, we were required to be a "patient" in one of these beds for the turning experience. It was really frightening with the feeling of falling out combined with the dizzying effect of being flipped like a pancake. A total feeling of loss of control."
* Photo credit Above Left: from OldFoolRN.blogspot.com, Above Right: MedicalDictionary.com
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