It was the middle of Holy Week and I was settling into the week's duties in my new parish of Dalkey, Co Dublin. I fell asleep on Wednesday evening with a little pain in my neck. The next morning I still had the pain but, thinking that it was muscular, I went to have my shower as usual, after which I began rotating my neck and arms to relieve the tightness. Suddenly, something went radically wrong and I was hit by the most excruciating pain, which started in my shoulder and travelled down into my hand.
My wife, Kay, drove me straight to St Michael's Hospital in Dun Laoghaire where, after X-rays, I was given painkillers without any clear diagnosis of the problem. The pain was so bad that within a few hours, I went to my GP in Dalkey, who arranged an appointment for me the next day in St Vincent's Hospital.
So on Good Friday, I went there for Xrays, was given more painkillers and an outpatient's appointment for 10 days later. Back home, I couldn't do a thing. I couldn't even go to bed and spent the next 10 nights lying awkwardly on a couch in the sitting room. During this time, I couldn't lift my right arm and the only way I could walk around was with my head crouched down. After these 10 very distressing days, I returned to St Vincents to be admitted straight away.
Within a few days, I was given an MRI scan, which showed the problem was in my cervical spine. My neck was put into a brace. I was put on stronger medication. Physiotherapy and lots of rest were prescribed. I was also placed in the care of consultant orthopaedic surgeon Kieran O'Rourke.
He said that if things didn't improve he would have to operate, entering the problem area from the front of the neck. The sudden realisation that my neck would be opened to find a route through to the spine was both shocking and horrifying. Needless to say, I became worried about the dangers and risks involved, in spite of feeling an enormous confidence in the professional expertise of Mr O'Rourke.
Despite spending a good deal of time in hospitals through my work, I had never met anyone with this problem before. And, in fact, I agreed to talk to The Irish Times about my experience simply because I felt it might be helpful to others facing surgery.
After a few weeks in hospital, with surgery still pending, I was sent home. Within a few days, the pain was extremely bad again. It was the sort of all-consuming pain that would bring tears to your eyes. Acute pain like this also has an emotional side. It makes you feel isolated and lonely and obsessed with yourself. I have seen so much pain in other people but this was the first time I had experienced this level of pain in my own being. It made me realise how vulnerable and distressed you feel when you are in acute pain and how aware of your own mortality you become.
I became determined to go ahead with the surgery because otherwise I felt my quality of life would be seriously reduced. I contacted Mr O'Rourke's secretary, arranged to see him and he slotted me in for a cervical discectomy (fusion of the cervical spine) the following week.
There are a lot of feelings of fear and nervousness before serious surgery but I also felt a sense of relief that the issue would be dealt with. After a day of tests, surgery was scheduled for the next day. That night, when I said goodnight to Kay, I again was quite fearful but I also felt a sense of calm and resignation about what was about to happen.
The next day, I was given a general anaesthetic at about 9 a.m. and I don't remember anything else until 1 p.m. I woke up feeling very alert, and the first thing I did was to move my feet and hands and check that I could speak as there had been cases of paralysis and vocal chord damage in the medical literature following this particular type of surgery. I could now lift my right arm for the first time in weeks, which was an amazing experience. Back in the ward, I was sore and cranky for a few days and had difficulty swallowing. Although I was feeling very sorry for myself, I knew that I was hugely better and that the operation had been a success. I left the hospital wearing a surgical collar which I had to keep on for six weeks. Needless to say, there were some jokes about wearing it instead of my clerical collar.
Within a few days I felt stronger but I also had a desperate feeling of vulnerability and everything I saw, I thought I would trip over. I had a strong feeling that the structure of my body had been interfered with. It was almost as if my spine had been dismantled and stuck together again with plasticine. I had to rest my head a lot. One only realises how heavy the head is when the neck is sore. In fact, sometimes even now, one year later, I still feel heaviness in my head and tightness in the back of my neck.
Throughout my illness, there was a huge amount of support and understanding from my parishioners and former parishioners in Waterford. However, when you are in severe pain, it is the love and support of your family which is most valuable.
Overall, it was a sobering experience yet an interesting and valuable one to have gone through. It has given me insight into pain and weakness, vulnerability and a forward glance at my own mortality. As a priest who is often around others who are suffering, I found I was hugely affected by the thought of other people praying and thinking about me when I was ill. I also saw how much more difficult it is for people to pray when they are ill and in hospital. Now, I have a renewed sense of being happy to be alive. So often when we are well, we really do take our good health so much for granted.
In conversation with Sylvia Thompson