May I just say that I wasn't middle-aged when I first experienced the pain of spondylolisthesis. i was barely thirty-four. My GP told me that spondy isn't at all related to ageing. It can attack anyone at any age - and most often does so between the ages of thirty and forty.
I'm at the point now when even getting out of bed of a morning is agonising. Everything I believed I'd be doing in my Autumn years has been abandoned.
Fusion surgery is notr for me: I have too many other health problems to make it a viable option. It would more than likely result in my being less mobile than prior to surgery - and would certainly result in a furtherance of my respiritory problems. Anaesthetic does strange things to me, you see. One of the effects is congestion of my lungs.
I'll never get any better than I am now. I have to accept that pain is part of my life. It limits my mobility. I cannot realise the dreams I had for this part of my life. So many walks I was going to undertake. All beyond my reach now.
The most painful part of it all is that I can't make the walk top the local cemetery - which is where the ashes of my elder son are interred. He died on 22nd November, 2012. It's uphill, a mile away from my home, to where his ashes lie you see. And I can't make the walk.
I have a wheelchair stashed away in the garden shed. I balk at using it. But, as I edge ever-closer to utter disablement, I wonder how my remaining son will cope with my incapacity. I had to cope with my mother's descent into dementia. It all-but killed my spirit. I don't want my son to face that when it comes to me beuing dependant in a different way. I dread the idea of being mentally alert, yet physically confined.
My daughter-in-law is a carer in a home for the elderly demented. She sees so many people who have been diminished. She tries to give the personal touch to each.
When my son - her husband -died -at her feet - she tried to revive him by means of her CPR training. It failed.
All of which is to say that some of us have been denied the opportunity to carry on. I live with never-ending pain. I'll never have fusion surgery; it wouldn't make my condition better.
And, yes, I DO feel like I'm on eggshells here. When most report positive results from surgery, I feel that I'm the spectre at the feast. The one lone, negative voice.